#this show is from 2020 but it feels older?

[harocat]

When does Sifeng Love and Redemption stop wearing this cursed mask. It looks like badly cured meat.

[mysunshinetemptress]

I Hate Her part two

Part one

Leah Williamson x enemy reader

Warning: Feeling like and outsider, self doubt, Leah being an asshole

A/n: I’m taking a break for the weekend, I’m just to busy to post anything so I’ll see you all Monday

You don’t make the roaster for Tokyo 2020, You wait patiently anxiously by the phone, you haven’t left your house scared that the phone will ring and you’ll either miss it or make a show of yourself in public and when the phone call comes your so happy you decide to stay at home, your told that maybe next you’ll get the chance but for now it’s a no, they just don’t think you're fully ready. You, you who have been on the senior squad since you were twenty, how are you not ready to be a part of team GB? 

How is she, how is Leah good enough to be a part of the Olympic squad and you're not, you got the call-up first to the Lionesses, you have the most clean tackles of the last two seasons of the WSL, you have the most goal scored by a defender of last season, how is she the better choice. 

You’re gutted, gutted as it’s officially announced and you watch the congratulations roll in for your teammates and you can’t help but feel like you're supposed to be there too, to be getting a congratulations instead of “Oh darling I’m so sorry, you’ll get it next time.” 

So when the phone call comes in a month before the team is set to leave for camp and start getting ready for the Olympics you can’t help but feel like a fraud in a sense, this is what you wanted, but not like this, not as a second choice, not when one of your teammates, friends has to pull out due to injury. 

You let out a half-hearted smile under the mask as you greet the social media team “Excited?” You nod “Excited.” You head in getting a COVID test done before moving to get your room allocation. 

You feel lost in camp these girls have known they were going to be a part of this squad for months now but you, you’re the last one in, the final pick, the second choice, and Leah has no problem showing it. 

Leah was the first to make you feel like an intruder. Her eyes once filled with camaraderie, now held a cold indifference. Her snide remarks, subtle digs and subtle exclusion, were like tiny daggers, aimed with precision to erode your confidence. You were a constant reminder of her misfortune, a living, breathing symbol of her failure.

The weight of expectation was suffocating. Every mistake, every missed pass, was magnified under the unforgiving spotlight of the Olympic stage. You were haunted by the fear of letting everyone down, of proving your doubters right. The girl who once thrived under pressure was now paralysed by it.

Nights were the worst. As your teammates shared laughter and inside jokes, you retreated into the solitude of your room. But your room only offered up that solitude during the day, when your eyes closed the same recurring nightmares plagued your mind and fed into the doubt, The medal ceremony played on repeat in your mind, their faces beaming with pride, stood on the podium as you tried to reach it, tried to climb on but a boot always connected with your hand stamping on it again and again forcing you to let go, before laughter erupted from the team, all looking down on you laughing at your inability to make it up, to be good enough to stand on the podium alongside them, the scene changes their names etched in history. And you? You a footnote, “Y/n Y/L/N the one who nearly ruined it for us all.” 

No one understands it, they haven’t tried to push you out, to exclude you (Leah has, her friends have been unexpectedly roped into it). The older girls are worried, your Captains Kim Little, Sophie Ingle and Ellen White can see it, you’re young, far too young to put so much pressure on yourself that you slip away from the group, and so they decide tonight is a team night, a mandatory team night. 

 You’re late, late for the team night and you feel nauseous as you open the door to the common room and everyone turns to look at you, you freeze until a hand grabs yours and you look up to see Ella, Ella, funny, loud Ella, she pulls you along to sit with her and Niamh and you do so quickly. Millie looks at you concerned raising a thumb up to make sure you’re ok, all you can do is nod. 

“Right ladies, shall we play a game.” Everyone lets out a cheer as they discuss what game to play Niamh tries to make conversation “So what’s the plans for summer break.” You shrug “I want to go to  Spain but I don’t know if that’s going to happen.” Ella shakes her head “We are all heading to Ibiza, you should come.” You nod slightly “Who is going.” Ella rattles off the names as the group seems to quieten down. 

Paranoia, is the game you used to play in secondary school, when you were an immature teenager, why this game, who chose this game. You felt your anxiety rise as flashes from your time sitting around the canteen table playing the game passed through your mind. 

You're safe for the start, no one mentions you, although there are slight digs here and there each girl seems to take it with a laugh, there’s nice ones too but still the bad ones always slip through. You don’t get a mention from anyone else but Leah’s best friends.

“Weakest pass” 

“Y/n”

“*****”

“Y/n” 

“*********”

“Y/n”

It was constant,  you laughed it off (forced laugh) when you found out, it was fine you could deal with it until you couldn’t. 

Leah thinks for a minute, it’s her turn again and everything she has said about you so far is only scratching the surface of how much she seems to hate you, she knows what to say she just hopes Keira takes the bait. She leans overhand covering her mouth and Keira's ear, she should know it’s a bad one from Keira's reaction, Kiera knows what Leah wants her to say but this ones mean, really mean, she can’t, not about you, you don’t fit this description, your miles ahead of the younger girls, but she doesn’t know what else to do. “Y/n.”

You sigh, you’re tired, bored even, bored of them choosing you, there are 21 other girls here, why do they keep picking on you? 

You flip the coin and watch as it lands on heads, Keira looks mortified while Leah wears a half smile, she looks proud of the fact you get to find out the question so she doesn’t even give Kiera the chance to “Who’s the worst player on the squad.” 

Your heart plummets, and you look between Leah and Keira, Keira’s eyes flick around the room trying to look anywhere but you, Leah, Leah looks guilty, no her expression changes so quick but she settles with a half smile again. 

You force out another laugh only this one is ten times more broken than the last, Ella grabs your hand trying to comfort you, comfort you about what, Leah’s right, you’re the worst player on the squad. You look around at the rest of your team’s concerned faces and panic you have to say something, otherwise, you’ll come off weak.

“Well obviously, I-I mean I was a second choice.” 

The words don’t have the effect you want and the girls look at you worriedly eyes soft “I think we better call it a night.” 

You play every game Team GB is part of in the Olympics, you help get them to the quarter-finals, you, the second choice, the worst player on the squad, play every game. 

[politicalprof]

On the election:

Thoughts? Sure. Lots of them:

--I have said from the beginning that this is a turnout election. Get me 2016 levels of turnout and Trump could well win. Get me 2020 levels of turnout and Harris would probably win. 2024's turnout is much closer to 2016 than 2020, so the electorate was whiter, more male, and older in 2024 than 2020. The people Harris needed to vote, didn't. Thus Trump won all or most of the swing states, and won the popular vote -- the first Republican to do so since 2004. (This is why I was a not a poll watcher: percentages in a poll do not translate directly into actual voting; in a turnout election actual voting is what matters.)

--I used to ask my classes, "will we have a Black president or a female president first? (Yes, I acknowledged the obvious "Black female" hole in that question.) The Black question was answered in 2008; we now have a further answer in that a candidate of the nature of Donald Trump has beaten two immensely qualified female candidates, one white and one woman of color -- both in low turnout elections. Apparently, America really, really, doesn't want a female president.

--Dobbs didn't matter, at least not as predicted. Women didn't "vote Harris" despite all claims they would do so, at least not at the predicted rates.

--Demography is not destiny. The Latino vote has moved toward Trump in three successive elections. I'd guess this is *because* of his anti-immigrant stances, not despite them: pulling up the ladder after you "make it" is an old part of American political life.

--[edit/added]: it's a global "throw the bums out" cycle. People are pissed for lots of reasons, and fairly or not, the "in power" people are feeling the pain. Such is the nature of political timing.

--The urban/rural split is a hell of a thing in American politics, and it's only going to get more intense over time as rural areas continue to empty but still get two Senators forever and ever and ever.

--There are a LOT of people who don't think of politics in either ideological or governance terms. They're not interested in whether a candidate means what he says or is capable of achieving the ends being promised. Rather, politics for these people is *entertainment.* What matters is the show. The "right" people need to be publicly valorized; the "wrong" people need to be attacked, humiliated, and hounded out of the public square. It's bread and circuses. As long as the entertainment continues they'll put up with the regime whatever it is doing to them in the background.

--Donald Trump remains the greatest politician in American history at dominating the news cycle, and thus feeding the entertainment machine. Every crazy, cruel, cantankerous thing he says gets re-amplified over and over again, driving everything else out of the political ecosystem. It's evil. But it's genius.

--I have long said that Donald Trump will never pay a meaningful price for his crimes, his corruption, and his cruelty. He will die in a golden bed surrounded by a harem of women and teams of acolytes singing his praises. It's not fair. But it's almost certainly true.

--A brief note on tariffs: when America relied on tariffs, the government was much smaller than it is now (meaning it needed less money to operate), and US economy activity was mostly concentrated in the US (meaning that it was hard for other countries to put retaliatory tariffs on US products). Neither of these things are true today. So, good luck with that.

I'm sure there's more. But that's a start.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Mr. Butlers Babysitter

Label mature 18+

🔗 Part 2 🔗 Part 3 🔗 Part 4 Completed Series

Summary

When you began working as a babysitter for Mr. Butler you were immediately taken by his wonderful children and his beautiful Malibu estate, he also paid handsomely. Having worked for celebrities on a referral based system you prided yourself on being professional and discreet for his family.

With Mr. Butler recently divorced having you help him with the children during their weekend visits from their mother was a godsend. After two months his daughter and son adored you to pieces never wanting you to leave. It seemed like a perfect fit.

One fateful evening Mr. Butler puts you in a highly compromising position. One that could ruin your reputation and your livelihood if word got out. You have two choices: Be exploited never to work in the inner circle as a high status celebrity babysitter again. or go along with his perverted plans.

🚨 Depraved Smut 🚨

corruption kink•dubcon•manipulation• humiliation• degradation •naivety •drug use•alchohol use•edging• fingering•coercive sex•condom use•orgasms•yandere

🫦co-writer/smut consultant @burnthheparaphilia

💝Not for my softies: Very corrupt perverted manipulative Austin

My first corruption smut 😭 no idea what I’m doing but was told I would be good at it. This one was pushed to the front of the request due to incessant demand.

There was a HUGE glitch for the delay I could not post it with the ask ☹️ it crashed so many times so I included them here

Mr. Butlers Babysitter

You were an excellent employee working for Mr. Butler as a babysitter of his two wonderful children. Though he preferred you call him Austin after working two months you still called him Mr. Butler to maintain the professionalism. He was a very famous actor in the early 2020’s. Now in his late thirties he was a full time producer.

He has a beautiful seven bedroom Malibu estate with every luxury perk you could think of. You enjoyed the cliffside drive seeing the ocean on your way to work there.

You would roll down the window and stick your hand out, feeling the ocean breeze hearing the seagulls as the waves crashed against the cliff walls.

You adored his two children Alisa and Daniel. Alisa was 8 years old and full of confidence. She was book smart and excelled in school never once asking for help with of her homework.

His son Daniel was 5 years old, always in imagination land. He was a very picky eater and sometimes you would have to pretend his favorite toy dinosaur would eat his food if he didn’t.

On this evening you and Austin were preparing pizza for the kids in his massive kitchen. He had his own personal brick oven designed to fit the space.

You grated mozzarella as he ladled the tomato sauce. As you sprinkled the cheese on the pizza dough your hands touched.

He smiled at you and replaced the ladle into the tomato sauce before standing behind you and placing his hands on yours showing you exactly how to spread it.

He instructs you gently speaking over your right shoulder “You know how Daniel is with his texture sensitivities if this cheese melts clumped together he won’t eat it” you giggle you totally understand. He slowly releases your hands and watches you work. He gives you a touch of approval on your shoulder before he gets back to ladling the sauce.

There was always a tension in the back of your mind with him. He was very attractive on an unnatural level.

His sandy blonde hair was always maintained in soft waves. His blue eyes had a depth and sincerity that if you stared too long you felt what it meant to get lost.

His jawline and face shape were squared and masculine and his plump lips accentuated his perfectly shaped nose. He was extremely handsome and though he was older he looked and acted so much younger.

Though you found him attractive you had set goals in mind: make money and advance your life. That kept you adamant to remain professional and you also felt so safe and highly valued working for him.

He paid you handsomely, had wonderful children and a beautiful home. You would never ruin this opportunity.

The four of you sat in the back yard that night to watch one of Mr. Butler favorite child hood movies. ‘The Good the Bad and the Ugly.’ It had become routine on Sunday to have movie night before the kids returned to their mothers for the week.

On the enormous hillside yard of his Malibu estate he had a large movie screen and a projector constructed. You all sat under a gazebo enjoying the warm breeze on a plush couch bed with a fire pit infront of it.

Beyond the movie screen you could see the twinkling lights of the city. You rested your head back enjoying the space, he had a very lovely home.

The kids grew restless after only 20 minutes of the slow paced movie but you were able to retrain their attention by asking them questions. “Is that cowboy a good one or a bad one?” you ask as Lee Van Cleefs scowling face took over the screen.

“A bad one!” Alisa yells quickly before her brother answers to prove how smart she is. Daniel’s little face saddens into a pout feeling like he lost.

“I think you’re right Alisa…” you say valuing her effort actually unsure which is the bad one.

You put your hand on Daniel’s little back and comfort him “Daniel look your turn is next! Is that cowboy a good cowboy or an ugly cowboy?”

He studies Clint Eastwoods stern face. “He looks like a mad cowboy ” he says with his cute voice growling and tiny teeth bared. You and Austin laugh at his adorableness.

“He does looks like a mad cowboy” Austin says assuring him. “Come here little guy sit on daddy’s lap” he motions for Daniel to come and easily picks him up “ah there we go” He says holding Daniel forward facing to watch the movie. He runs his hands through his son’s sandy blonde locks they look almost identical.

“Do you want to do nails? “ Alisa asks you excitedly out of the blue practically bouncing next to you on the couch bed.

“Sure if it’s okay with your dad I know it’s getting late“ you admit checking your phone.

She looks to her dad “Plea-a-a-se can I go get my nail kit daddy!“ she pouts with her hands in a prayer. He can’t resist her.

“You can get it but you have to be done in less than thirty minutes it’s almost your bed time” he say firmly.

Alisa squeals and you watch as she runs into the house.

Austin’s thumb caresses your shoulder to get your attention. “Look he’s out” he says pointing at little Daniel comfortably resting back in his arms.

“Aw look at his little cute face, do you want me to take him up?” You ask gently to be helpful.

He motions his head “No you girls do nails and I’ll sit with him to watch the movie” you agree to the idea just as Alisa comes bounding out of the house with a hot pink nail box kit. She slams it on the flat stone edge of the fire pit.

Austin puts his finger to his lips with a stern face shushing her because Daniel is sleeping. “Sorry daddy” she says to him softly “I got it “ she says out of breath holding up the kit to you.

She puts the plastic box of nail supplies on the couch bed next to you and pops it open. Pulling out a bottle of hot pink polish “Do my nails this color” she says demandingly but she’s a kid.

“If you say please” you sweetly correct her

“Please do my nails this color!” She asks with an impatience rising in her voice. You smile and extend your palm to her.

She places her small hand in yours as you brush the color on each of her nails. “and the stickers!” She says pulling out a roll.

You place a sticker of her choice on each nail. She looks them over excitedly “Do you like them?” You ask to make sure she’s a happy client. She jumps up and hugs you tightly around your neck.

The squeeze shocks you and you pat her shoulder tenderly to calm her “Okay honey I’m glad you like them.” you say pretending to sounds like you are being choked and it makes her giggle.

Austin realizes he was so invested in your encounter he wasn’t watching his movie and it’s already been more than thirty minutes. “Okay it’s definitely time to head up” he says carrying a sleeping Daniel as he clicks off all the electronics.

Alisa gathers her nail kit and holds your hand. You all head up stairs to put them in their rooms. Austin heads down the hall to Daniel’s and you head to Alisas.

She does everything on her own in her fully custom princess room. She brushes her teeth, washes, her face and puts on her pajamas before climbing into her canopy bed.

You click on her unicorn night light and click off the main room light ready to head out . “Can you talk to me until I fall asleep” she asks in her soft voice.

It’s a big request because you have classes in the morning and you are tired but you want to bond with her so you pull up a child size hot pink princess throne and sit next to her bed.

“What do you want to talk about hun?” You ask holding her smaller hand in yours and tracing your thumb over her freshly painted hot pink nails.

“Youre not going to leave are you?” She asks with her timid voice.

You reassure her “I am going to go to my apartment and then I’ll come back and see you next weekend when your back from your moms.” you smile warmly as you tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

Her face suddenly saddens “mommy wants to make you go away” her eyes brim with tears and her lip pouts as it quivers.

“Aw honey“ you say as you pick her out of bed and place her on your lap. You pet her sandy brown hair and shush her. She begins sobbing against your chest. You pull her face back to look in her eyes. Her face is bright red with tears streaming by this point.

“Alisa honey …aw honey… sometimes people say things they don’t mean.” You wipe her tears. ”You know maybe your mommy is angry because I’m new in your life and she wants to make sure that I’m taking the very best care of you” you pinch her small chin. She still has a sad look in her eyes but she has stopped crying and is now sniffling.

“Mommy is mad because in daddy’s phone she found pictures of you.” she says through her sniffles as she finally starts calming down.

“What kind of pictures“ you ask patting her shoulders comfortingly“

“Like pictures when you bend over?” she admits not sure what it means.

Your face goes bright red not expecting her to say that “Well yes that’s ..um that’s not appropriate how did you find this out sweety ?”You ask out of pure curiosity.

“I heard mommy talking to her boyfriend that daddy is a per-vert he takes lots of pictures when you bend over. What is a per-vert?” She asks with an innocent curiosity not knowing the word.

You sigh gaining more information than you ever wanted to know. “How about I tell you a bed time story?” You say to distract her and she nods smiling and snuggles in your arms. You begin to make up one about Princess Alisa and her hot pink unicorn that can fly to her castle in the clouds.

You are never one to pry into the affairs of your clients. You were a baby sitter for another celebrity couple, the Milanos, before his wife packed up and moved back to Italy with their triplets.

You received high recommendations from Mr. Milano to land the job with Mr. Butler due to your discretion and ability to always remain professional.

In the Milano mansion you witnessed several fights. Once Mr. Milano even backing out of his driveway drunk screaming at Mrs. Milano before he crashed into their courtyard fountain.

You took their sobbing triplets inside to avoid them having to watch their parents have another explosive outburst. You brought them to the their enormous playroom and turned on some kids follow along music until they were wiggling and dancing instead of crying.

A word about their issues never left your lips even when the paparazzi berated you with emails and bribes to be a source of information for the infamous impending Milano divorce splashed across every gossip site.

Even as you saw the exorbitant amounts being offered you knew your reputation would be diminished in the elite celebrity circle as a nanny and you’d be scrambling back to a form of lesser employment.

But as you cradled Alisa in your arms you realized this was a completely different scenario on top of the average celebrity family dramatics.

Your first divorced client may actually have a sexual interest in you.

As you finish your story you hold her close comforting her in silence. After a while her body begains to go slack. “I’m going to put you in bed now okay hun?” You say gently and she nods.

You place her in bed and pull her unicorn covers up to her chest. “Promise me you’ll come back”she asks in her sweet sleepy voice trying to keep her eyes open.

You reassure her “Yes Alisa I’m coming back” you pet her hand.

“Even if my daddy is a per-vert like mommy says?” she asks as your brows furrow at the complication.

“Alisa” Austin’s voice snaps from the doorway. You wonder how long he’s been there as you slightly panic. “You should’ve been asleep a long time ago now it’s very late and you have school in the morning next time I’m not going to let you stay up like this” he says sternly.

“I’m sorry daddy” Alisa says sleepily.

You interject “Mr. Butler… Austin, sorry it’s my fault the nails, the girl talk bed time story I guess we just got carried away.” You say smiling weakly looking at him with newfound eyes realizing he might have a little naughty photo collection of you in his phone.

He smiles to you “No you're fine I think she just gets really excited having you around I’m going to make sure she goes down. Just wait for me a minute downstairs.” He says as you cross paths. He sits on Alisa’s bedside as you leave the room.

You walk down the hall but slowly enough to listen in and pry. Their voices are muffled but you distinctly hear him in his softest sweetest voice ask her ”Now what were you silly girls talking about in here”

She loves her daddy you know she’s going to rat. You quickly make your way down the stairs through the living room and exit the front of the house.

You enter your car and hold the steering wheel wondering if he’s going to fire you now because his daughters spilled his little secret. “UGHhh!” You exclaim because he pays you four grand just to work weekends every month with the sweetest kids on the planet.

You’ve signed an NDA but that’s still an awkward topic to ignore especially being in close proximity with him, likely complications will arise. You’ll work for him one more weekend and ask him for a recommendation to another high status family.

You look up through the windshield to see Mr. Butler jogging out of his modern glass front estate down to your car. You roll down your window confused. “I thought you left” he says out of breath. “I told you to wait for me downstairs” he says as he reaches into his pocket. “For the overtime” he says handing you a small stack money. Your eyes light up as you accept it.

Counting through a thousand dollars you raise your brow as you look up at him. “Mr. Butler… there’s no way all of this is just for overtime.”

He slicks his hand back through his hair looking around to other houses in the distance before he looks back to you with a grin “How about you come in tomorrow on your day off and you make it up to me” he says slyly.

You fold the stack in your hand and bring it to your purse. “Okay if that will make us even” you say matter of factly.

He flashes you a charming smile “It’s a date then” he says stepping back from your car “And tomorrow call me Austin” he says as you pull out of the driveway of his estate.

You can’t quite put your finger on it but the whole interaction felt a little off. But maybe he was just nervous about what Alisa may have said to him.

If he needs your help with his sweet kids tomorrow you’re all for it. You turn up the music to play on your way home.

Make It Up to Me

The next day during your morning college course you receive a text from Austin. “Come by at 6:30pm house unlocked” you knit your brow in confusion. Usually you arrive at 10am to help with the kids then it dawns on you it’s a weekday his kids are in school and probably have extracurriculars after so you type in “okay”

After classes you go to the gym and work out for an hour of cardio. You like to stay fit as a baby sitter if a kid can out run you, your toast.

You take your usual Monday cycling class and leave covered in sweat. You shower and open your locker to realize because of the work schedule change you didn’t pack street clothing. You left your apartment wearing your work out gear. Now instead of heading home you’re driving to Malibu.

“Shit” you say finding only a clean pair of black yoga shorts and a sports bra in your locker. “great job “ you murmur to yourself “Wear the skimpiest out fit to your employers house after you find out he probably takes photos of your ass” you roll your eyes at your luck.

Your strait laced thoughts suddenly start to slip as you try to think of when he would take the inappropriate pictures.

There was a time he had you climb a ladder in his storage room to carry down hoolah hoops for the kids. Then proceeded to have you all compete in the living room to see who was the fastest.

You were of course and he readily filmed it as you laughed trying to keep the rhythm of your hips going. His kids had already dropped theirs to the floor and were fumbling and giggling so you stopped to help them.

There was another instance when he installed a boot camp playground for his son before his birthday. He wanted you to test it out with the kids. You guys balanced on beams climbed ropes and had to shimmy on your belly’s under ropes through a sand pit. The low angle he filmed as you crawled didn’t make sense then.

Once somehow Daniel’s nerf football was thrown up into his tree house and the ladder had not been repaired. The kids would be dropped off in an hour and Mr. Butler was adamant you retrieve Daniels nerf football.

He followed you to the yard down the hill to the garden infront of the large tree with the custom house built into its branches. He hoisted you up by cupping and pushing your ass to get you higher. You laughed at the embarrassing way you needed to be helped. You finally wiggled into the tree house, throwing the nerf foot ball down.

You sat on the ledge and Austin gestured you to jump down to him ”please catch me, I don’t have independent health coverage” you joked. “If I break your bones I’ll mend them come to me” he gestured.

You jumped off landing into his arms both falling back onto the grass. His pupils were huge as you stared down at him panting and smiling. You quickly stood up and offered him your hand.

You realize you will definitely have to keep your distance he’s already been trying you.

But you really need this job. It’s saving your life right now he is your highest paying client by far. Your bills are paid your gym membership is renewed and you actually have a savings account.

You begin to wonder if your next employer will treat you as well and pay as much. It’s highly doubtful

You know the kids will be there today and you can leave early with a made up excuse before they fall asleep. Even on weekends you can just plan to leave early every time and should be completely safe.

You search through your locker again trying to find anything to cover you from wearing just sports bra and shorts to his house. You find a zip up black long sleeve jacket to match.

But it’s all form fitting accentuating your ass by covering your top and leaving your legs exposed. You shake your head in annoyance, it will have to do. You don’t have time to head back to because you thrive on being punctual. You tie up your hair in a pony tail and leave the gym.

You drive the route to Mr. Butlers estate with the windows rolled down listing to music. You pull up to his place at around 6:30. You walk in to the grandios living room to find the estate empty. No Austin, no kids, no maid, not anyone.

You reach in your purse and take out your phone texting Mr. Butler. “Where is everyone?” It takes a moment but you see the little dots moving showing he’s typing back.

He texts “movie room”. You’ve never been down there before.

To make sure it’s not a danger zone you text him back “kids with you?” You await his response there isn’t one.

After a moment he finds you in the living room and smiles as he sees you.

“It felt kind of weird texting you and were in the same house…” his voice trails off seeing what your wearing

You tug down your sleeve and clutch you purse closer to your body.

“Sorry it’s unprofessional of me I know but I’ve never been here during a weekday and I forgot to pack the extra clothing.”

He makes a hmm sound looking you over in amusement.

“You must work out a lot to have legs like that” he compliments and your face flushes.

“Don’t be shy about it” he says grinning as he walks by you to the kitchen.

He’s wearing sweats and a black tee but youve always eyed he’s in very good shape himself. He pulls a bottle of wine tucking it under his arm and pulls two Reidel glasses out.

“Come watch a movie with me” he says innocently.

“Mr. Butler..I mean Austin, with all do respect I can’t.” He eyes you mischievously.

“You believe everything an eight year old tells you?” Your face flushes Alisa totally ratted to her daddy.

He has a knowing smile that you return because how did Mr. Butlers ex-wife even have access to his phone?

Maybe Alisa’s mom had it wrong, sometimes moms exaggerate to their kids to villainize daddy. Austin seems very kind.

He motions you to join him and this time you follow him down the stairs to the movie room. He pushes open the doors with his back and it opens to a theater space with five rows of black custom movie couches, it’s a small amphitheater.

“Holy fuck” you say before covering you mouth cursing infront of a client. Your previous clients the Milanos movie theater fails in comparison to this.

Along the back wall he has framed posters of every movie he’s starred in. You begin walking along and inspecting each one.

He approaches you from behind and hands you a glass of wine.

“Oh thank you … but I’m not allowed to drink, well I’m legally not allowed to drink until next year .” you smile shyly as your face flushes.

The way he stares at you in disbelief makes you feel awkward.

“You’ve never even had a drink?” He asks lowering his tone.

You tuck your hair behind your ear feeling the heat rising to your face as you try to explain.

“Well I was always honor roll and very goal oriented, not much time for friends. Then I got accepted to a great college on a scholarship. My room and board is paid by it so I really only have time to do my course work, workout ,and come to your house Mr. Butler. From what I can see, drinking kind of makes people wild and crazy and dumb, anyway it never really interested me.”

He warmly smiles at you. “Well maybe they are drinking hard liquor this is wine, it’s not instant like a shot, it takes a while to build in your system“

“if hard liquor makes you crazy, what does wine feel like?” You ask intrigued.

“Mmm like a really mellow mood, no more stress no more anxiety you can just be yourself.” He smiles.

You mull it over staring into the red liquid, thinking about how anxious you are waiting for his kids to get here already. Maybe just a glass. You lift it to sip and he gestures you not to.

“This is a nice bottle when you drink you have to cheers to something.” He proclaims.

“Oh..” you say not familiar with drinking customs. Your mind draws a blank.

His eyes squint for a minute until he catches a thought

“To a great working relationship” he says and it makes you smile and cheers him clinking glasses then taking a drink. He rests his glass down “You really are phenomenal the kids adore you by the way”. He admits.

You both look over at his Elvis movie poster you have been standing in front of.

“You ever seen this?” He asks because of your age.

“No I haven’t, are you good in it?” you ask curiously and he nearly snorts his wine as he takes a sip.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I almost won an Oscar” He exclaims profoundly. “That’s what we’re gonna watch then” he says leaving you to set everything up in the theater.

He sits center mid row and you sit next to him on the black custom theater couch putting your purse on the table rest of your seat.

You wait as he finds the film in his catalogue with his universal remote then dims the lights. The theater is completely dark and silent.

He refills your wine glass as the credits start. It’s a very haunting Elvis melody. Followed by a montage of him dressed as Elvis. Finally you see him “Wow you look so different with black hair, you say but the theater has surround sound speakers.

He can’t quite hear you so he turns the volume down. You begin divulging too much feeling a bit dizzy.

“Oh Mr. Butler no I don’t want to ruin the movie, you don’t have to turn it down, I was just saying you look so different with black hair it really brings out your eyes. You have very pretty blue eyes” you say staring at him a little too long in the dim lighting.

You wonder why you are suddenly turned on and shake the thought from your head. He listens to your tipsy rambling and smirks refilling your glass.

“I’ve seen this movie over a dozen times I’d rather hear you talk honestly” he admits glancing over at you affectionately.

The movie continues to play at a lower volume the bright flashing colors and lights are a dizzying spectacle to your eyes.

Him wearing green, him wearing pink, him jiggling his dick on the screen. “Wait what?” You exclaim. As you sit up he laughs. “I swear I just saw! Oh!! You did it again” you rest back in your chair wondering why you are becoming wet.

The movie continues and you are fully invested in every word he says. His southern drawl is resonating in your ears.

He pours you a glass one more time as the Trouble scene comes on smiling to himself. When the scene shows him on stage you are already labored breathing because he looks so good in eyeliner. As he begins to sing and then dance on the sceeen you audibly gasp.

Why is it so sexual isn’t this the 50s? You watch as he kneels and rises from the floor as women in the audience on screen reach for his cock. “holy fuck” you say out loud as you breath heavily.

You wonder if he can really do that… inside of you. You squirm in your seat too heavily aroused

“Fuck Mr. Butler.. I mean Austin” you say a little slurred and he pauses the movie on the scene when he’s in the cop car.

“Mr.B- -Austin I didn’t eat, and I worked out, and I had the wine, and now I feel really weird…oh god!” you exclaim standing up from the couch “The kids what time is it!”

He stands with you and watches as you try to steady your balance. “The kids aren’t coming” he admits.

“What?!” You exclaim louder than you intended trying to focus your eyes feeling like they are vibrating.

“The kids aren’t coming because it’s a week day” he says looking at you as if you got the plans wrong.

You go over in your mind how he handed you the money and you try to remember his exact words ‘Come on your day off and make it up to me’ you realize he wants you to make it up sexually. You take a step back “Oh god Mr. Butler”

“Austin” he interjects

You take another step back “Mr. Austin I can’t - - ”

He cuts you off again “Just -Austin” he says.

Your back hits the wall behind you in a pathetic attempt to avoid his alluring aura. He places his hands to the wall on either side of your head cornering you and standing so closely you can smell his cologne.

“I tried luring you in so many ways but you were just so professional you never relaxed your guard around me. But I finally figured out how to loosen you up.” He says with a smile.

He stares into your eyes with a burning intensity wanting to watch your reaction as he admits it

“A pinch of ecstasy in a full glass of wine.” He smirks

“What!” You exclaim in shock that he’s already drugged you.

He smiles “A good girl like you wouldn’t even know what was happening to her.” He confesses with an alluring smile.

He lowers his head next to your ear “Why do you think you’re having so much fun?” he whispers to you as a strange sensation falls over your body.

He smiles against your ear and hovers his mouth over your neck fanning your sensitive skin as he speaks "You didn't leave me another way to have you.....it’s a shame I had to make it this way." He says as he licks his tongue in a trail along your neck.

You go weak and cover with chills as he starts to kiss and suck your neck making your body begin to tingle all over especially between your legs. It suddenly makes sense why the movie colors were so vivid and you felt shocks to your core that made you wet every second he was on screen.

You have fallen in to his trap.

Your breathing increases and you weakly put your hands on his firm chest trying to stop him but it's in vain. You can't fight the effect he has over you. The wine and the ecstasy make you completely surrender to his touch, you want more of him as he wants more of you.

He reaches his hand between your legs and presses his fingers against your pussy. It radiates pulses of pleasure throughout your entire body. A small moan escapes your lips. “Your fucking soaked “ he says looking at his wet fingertips.

You grab his hand placing it back to your aching pussy wanting him to touch you more you are craving it but he smirks.

He brings his hand up to your throat placing it gently there instead gazing directly into your eyes knowing he has complete control to pervert you to his wishes.

“I never took a good girl Ike you to be such a slut” he teases and you whimper. “Go on beg your boss to touch you like a slut“ he commands.

You slowly muster up the words “please… touch me”

You feel his hard cock press across your thighs instead making your core clench

“Is that what you want?" He asks leaning in to suck onto your neck again.

“Yes! Please Mr.Butler touch me” your desperate tone makes his cock harder.

"What did I tell you about my name?" He asks rubbing his hand against your pussy.His touch sends shocks of pleasure radiating through your body distracting you from saying his name

"A-Austin!!" you finally cry out.

"You’re so cock drunk you can't even form words" he says smiling in amusement as he kisses his way up your neck to your lips.

He takes you into an erotic kiss gaining instant access to your wanting mouth. He glides his tongue in and twirls it against yours while devouring your lips. He pulls you from the wall back into the aisle and pushes you down on the couch breaking his kiss and making you lay flat.

He holds your legs up pulling the band of your shorts to peel them off of you with your panties, leaving you half naked.

He climbs on top of you settling between your legs. His eyes are full of lust as you see them roam your body. He slowly unzips your jacket exposing your body in your sports bra.

"Fuck you look incredible" he says trailing his hand down your stomach.

His left hand hooks his thumb into your sports bra pulling it up enough to let your tits out of their confinement. He gets his phone out of his pocket and takes a photo with flash.

You turn away as it hurts your sensitive eyes. Any dignity you had left was shattered as soon as he took the compromising photo.

“Please delete it Austin!” you beg him with your entire career on the line if he shows anyone.

"Delete it?” He smirks “No, I’m gonna use it blackmail you into doing whatever I desire, and if you deny me it’ll be posted anonymously so everyone will know what a slut you really are” he confesses.

“Austin please I’ll do what ever you say please don’t post the photo” you beg him almost in tears the photo would ruin you.

He smiles and squeezes one of your full tits then the other. He tugs at your nipples making you gasp “Our little secret then” He says enamored, he finally has you at his mercy.

Suddenly you feel him slowly sink two of his fingers in your tight cunt. He starts to pump them in pulling against a hard ridge inside that makes your hips buck up.

"Austin!" you moan out as he sends shock of pleasure all over your body.

Your core gets tighter as he continues to finger you massaging your tight walls. You are heavily panting feeling the release of so many endorphins firing at once from the ecstasy.

Austin notices the way your legs tremble as your walls flutter against his fingers, you’re going to cum. He increases his pace enjoying his wet knuckles smacking against your folds as you moan.

"Austin please don't stop!" you plead as you start to climax. He places his other hand across your pelvis pressing down and using his thumb to circle your clit.

You are high pitched moaning with your core so tight it feels like it will snap.

“Cum for me” he commands and you clutch his wrist feeling how he shoves his finger inside of you as your orgasm.

You deeply moan as sparks explode in your core and radiate through your body. He continues to finger you into aftershock until your back arch’s from the couch as you cry out for him . Then he slows to a stop.

“I know, I know” he says cooing at you as he caresses your jaw. It was an intense orgasm you are panting and shivering trying to regain your breath. You rest your head back on the couch in a daze.

The ecstasy in your system has increased your arousal to its peak you have lost all control over your body.

You watch Austin pull a condom from his pocket and tear it open. He reaches in the band of his sweats and releases his thick cock.

“Oh god..." you say in a shock because he is so well endowed

"Such a slut for letting your new boss fuck you like this" He says as he smiles at you. He presses the condom to the head of his cock and carefully rolls it down his shaft. He sees you eyeing his every movement.

"Just a condom on the first time. In the application you sent in it said you are not on birth control, but we’re gonna fix that" he confesses.

Your eyes widen in shock as you whimper. You gave up so much information on your hiring form most that didn’t even pertain to the job. He knows: What college you go to, where your parents live, all of your social media handles, even your time of the month, among so many other things. He has it all thought out and trapped you officially.

“When Mr. Milano referred you to me, I was shocked he’d ever give you up , but with his divorce… no more kids no more babysitter.” He smiles “You were the hottest thing I’d ever seen. The picture he sent of you innocently smiling in your tennis outfit at his house.I pleasured myself to your photo right there at my bathroom sink.” He gazes lustfully between your legs “and now I finally get to try your sweet pussy”

You let out a moan as he settles between your legs and parts your thighs wider. He rests his chest to yours and aims his cock for your entrance. As he penetrates you grip his shoulders and cry out from the piercing of his size.

"MMm my good girl taking my cock so well..-fuck-..your so tight" he says as you gasp for air feeling the stretch. He slowly makes you take every inch of him until it’s too painful.

"It’s too much A-austin! Too m-much!!" you plead as your eyes well with tears and your nails dig into his shoulders.

You don't think you can handle it as you start to feel how big his cock is.

"Be a good girl and take it all for me" he says as he trusts himself deep sinking in all the way to your core. Your back arcs but no sound escapes your throat from the pain as the ecstasy amplifies it.

He works into you your stunned body at a gentle pace “Don’t worry pretty girl…the pain will subside … and you will like it.” he reassures you and plants kisses on your neck to distract you as he thrusts into you stretching your tight walls. After a moment his words are true the pain transforms into pleasure and he hears your sweet moans in his ears.

He puts his left hand on your hip increasing his thrusts pushing his deepest to hit your cervix. He turns your head exposing the other side of your neck to kiss and suck your most vulnerable spot creating a bruise.

He pins your hands above your head and tilts his hips thrusting at a deeper angle and increasing your moans. His hips begin smacking into yours as you cry out on each one of his thrusts.

“Austin I’m so close” you admit in passion.

“Gonna make you cum with me” he breaths increases his speed until he’s wracking your body with his plows.

“I’m gonna cum!” You yell making his cock twitch. He groans as he pumps you full of his seed. He grips your shoulders for leverage and pushes even deeper. You both moan in unison as you orgasm.

He finishes panting heavily above you staring into your eyes. He is thoroughly satisfied and already wants to feel every ridge of your walls without a condom.

You look back up at him as you regain your breath, it was the best sex you ever had.

“I’m gonna pull out now” he says and you nod as he slides his shaft back until his cock head slips out. You both moan from the loss of contact. He slowly stands from the couch and pulls the condom off of his cock until it snaps. He fixes his sweats and discards the condom in a lined bin.

You quickly find your panties and your shorts and pull them back on then you stand and zip up your sports jacket. Austin raises the lights to brighten the room as he turns all the other settings in the movie theater off with his universal remote.

“Earlier when you mentioned you didn’t eat I wanted to feed you. Can I feed you now” He asks over his shoulder.

You collect your purse. “No I think I’ll just go home.” You say nervously. He turns to look at you then.

“I want you to stay” he offers but you shy away “Austin I have classes in the morning I really wasn’t planning for …all of this”

He approaches you slowly tucking his finger under your chin. He sees in your eyes you are too drunk to even leave his estate.

He smirks knowing you’ll have to stay the night and he’s going to enjoy you again and again. He also has something he can give you that will always get his way with you.

“How much do I owe you for baby sitting me then” he asks slyly looking away to retrieve his phone. He opens the app to transfer money directly to your account. He leaves the number space blank as he hands it to you.

You look up at him knowing it was the best sex of your life but the way he corrupted the situation and controls you with it. You decide to go all in, typing in the number you want and handing it back to him. Double your monthly salary.

His eyes light up in amusement and he immediately hits send. You are well worth it. He wants you more and he quickly thinks of a way to get you to stay during the week.

Your phone alerts the transfer is complete and your stomach jumps in excitement looking at the amount in your banking app. He smiles seeing how happy you are.

As your eyes meet he gazes at you lustfully “For that amount you’ll have babysit me for the rest of the week then.” He admits.

End

To be continued due to high demand ♥️☺️🥀

Available now ♥️

[inuyashaluver]

Hi could you do smt abt being Lucy bronzes little sister who is the photographer for city women and is in a secret relationship with Leila Ouahabi and no one know because your “forbidden” to footballers per Lucy’s request as according to her your still a baby as your like 23/24 ish.

by the rule book - leila ouahabi

leila ouahabi x reader

description: in which you and your sister have a set of rules that you break because of a certain defender

warnings: let’s pretend leila attended the world cup, basically me yapping, swearing, angsty?

a/n: leila train has arrived back at my stop lmao, thank you so much for the request, much love, enjoy ❤️❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your sister had a set of rules that were heavily referenced while growing up, and the present.

this set of rules sworn on by each sister with the promise they would never be broken. and they weren’t, until leila came into the picture.

—

you were 8 years younger than your sister, lucy. you’re a bronze sister, meaning you were extremely fun, playful, but serious and stoic when you needed to be. you and your sister brought out the best in each other, expecting nothing but the finest.

lucy was the best older sister, she was funny and always included you in everything she did once you grew out of your snitch phase and actually became cool in her eyes. the two of you were always extremely close and that’s how you both liked it.

she encouraged you to put your heart to your passion, one of the main reasons you became a photographer.

lucy was extremely protective of you, hence why she created a simple set of rules between the two of you that shouldn’t be broken.

1 - don’t date any of lucy’s teammates

2 - don’t date any of (y/n)’s friends

3 - respect each other’s boundaries

4 - be honest with each other

5 - sisters come first

the rules were easily agreed upon by the both of you, they were made when you were 16 and lucy was 24.

—

you followed lucy around for photographer opportunities, landing yourself a permanent position on the media teams of both england and manchester city when lucy joined in 2020.

you always loved photography, adoring the feeling of capturing a canvas that would be around for years to come.

just before lucy joined in 2020, you were both at england camp. in free time, everyone would eagerly chatter about their new or current clubs they were going to.

you angled your camera at keira while leah marked her during a mini game, checking the photos with a pleased smile until your sister hopped on your back.

“munchkin!” (your nickname for as long as you can remember) “luce! get off!” you laugh, almost falling flat on your face until your sister got off you, giving you an exaggerated kiss on the cheek that you were quick to squeal and complain about.

“you’re so annoying” you grumble, unable to fight your smile at seeing your sister’s bright grin. “shut up, show me some pics, picasso” she teases.

you roll your eyes amusingly, giving her a sneak peek of all the photos you’d taken so far, letting out a bright laugh when she made you stop on a photo of her.

“that’s class” she pinches your cheek teasingly, “well done, baby sis” she coos teasingly, a couple of the girls coming over and teasing you too.

everyone viewed you as family and a teammate even though you were just their photographer, you’d been with them for so long, they’d grown a huge love for you.

“you excited for manchester, (y/n/n)?” leah throws an arm over your shoulder as you both walked inside st george, “yeah! should be good, nice and cold” you grin,

“maybe manchester city is where we can finally see you get a partner?” she teases, you both laugh, “lee, come on, you know the rules” you laugh, “i know the rules!” lucy calls out from behind you from where she was walking behind you.

you flip her off and she gasps offendedly, “i could get you fired for that!” she exclaims, you wave her off, laughing along with leah.

—

you, lucy and keira all lived together in manchester, splitting the rent and living comfortably.

but in 2022, the two of them got offered contracts for barcelona and they accepted, but you didn’t. manchester felt like home to you, and you really didn’t want to leave it.

it was the first time you’d been away from lucy, and don’t be mistaken, you are a highly independent person but something was so reassuring about having your sister with you.

before they moved, they helped you move into a flat for yourself, small and homey like you needed.

it was incredibly tearful dropping keira and lucy off to the airport, you don’t think you’ve ever felt your sister hug you so tight.

“i love you” she breathes out into your embrace, you hug her back equally as tight, “such a sap, bronzes don’t do that” you tease, receiving a slap on the back of your head.

it was daunting for the both of you to be apart, not really having to do that in your lives.

“i love you too” you smile, “i’ll call you when we land” lucy sniffs, hastily wiping away her tears and letting keira hug you as well. “my favourite bronze” keira smiles, both you and lucy letting out a wet laugh.

you wave them both off with a sad smile, waiting for them to go through the gate before you dragged yourself back to your car and drove off.

—

you went back to work at the beginning of the season, waiting for the girls to come outside to photograph their training session.

you smile and wave to familiar faces, taking a couple of test photos before you noticed a new face that you didn’t recognise at first, one of the new signings.

your eyes narrowed slightly in concentration when you looked at her, until you realised who it was. leila ouahabi.

you’ve never met her formally, only smiling at her in the hallways of national games if you had the chance. you always thought she was absolutely gorgeous, but you also appreciated the way she defended, even your sister agreeing she was incredible.

leila smiles at you, slightly surprised to recognise you slightly. the truth was, leila had been heavily looking at your social media platform ever since she laid eyes on you way back.

she thought you were gorgeous, she could tell you were a soft soul, with your charming smile and cute little face you made when you were concentrating on your camera.

she wanted to know you, she was just shy about it, not knowing to approach you, maybe this was the opportunity she needed.

—

training progressed, you smile pleasingly when you look back at your photos, your ultra focus showing on your facial features as you attempt to capture the best photos possible.

you were sat on the side of the pitch watching the girls train, your eyes subconsciously drifting to the spaniard.

it was until a mini game that a certain defender was chasing the ball, kicking it out and sliding directly next to you that your breathing quickened.

you look down to see her slightly wincing, heavily breathing and looking a little too attractive but that was an afterthought.

“are you okay?” you breathe out, the girl on the floor looks up at you surprised, a sly smile taking over her features.

“i’m fine, hermosa (beautiful), thank you” she winks, pushing herself up from the floor and dusting herself off, walking back to the pitch and making sure to look back at you with a flirty smile.

you blink in shock, what was that interaction?

—

these interactions went on, situations where you felt extremely nervous around her even when she was barely doing anything.

you were photographing the new kit, only a set amount of players selected for the campaign, and luckily for you, leila was the very last model for the day.

leila came in with her charming smile and a dray of drinks in her hands, she perks up when you make eye contact.

“good morning, hermosa (beautiful)” she grins, extending the warm drink out to you, you look at her in surprise, a grateful smile gracing your features.

“morning, leila, thank you” you take a sip and let out a pleased sigh, “how did you know this is my favourite?” you tease.

“i read your cup” she says with a flirty smile, though her cheeks tinged slightly with pink. you smile before clearing your throat.

you go through the plans for the shoot, explaining what type of photos you’ll be taking, the approach of the shoot and what you needed from her.

she maintained eye contact the entire time you spoke, nodding along with each and every word and clarifying on things when she didn’t understand.

it was almost hard to press the shutter button when leila would pose, it was a simple, basic, arms crossed - stoic football pose photo that you’ve taken numerous times in your career but something was just so different about how leila did it.

her confidence poured out of her and her smirk made your stomach flip. she was serious but loved to joke around with you when the time called for it.

the two of you basically chatting, taking a photo, chatting, taking a photo. a simple yet effective formula that you both enjoyed. so much so, leila asked you to go out on a date with her and you accepted without a second thought.

—

the two of you went on a couple of dates before the two of you started dating. back then it was really fresh but extremely obvious with the heart eyes you’d send each other.

the manchester girls caught on before the two of you could even process it. and the only condition for everyone was to vow their silence around your sister with the promise of the best pictures being published.

as time progressed, you both moved in together, both of you in one of the most genuine, loving relationship the two of you had ever had.

—

“baby, i’m working” you giggle, pressed up against a random wall, one hand on leila’s hip, camera in the other.

“amor (love), you’re not working right now” she grins cheekily, lips quickly locking with yours. one of her hands on your cheek and one on your hip holding you close to her.

you let out a little exhale from your nose in a laugh, to focused on kissing your now girlfriend of a year.

it was hard hiding it from lucy, especially when the two of you lived together. you were able to get away with it most of the time, telling your sister your roommate was just really chatty.

“baby” you mumble against her lips, attempting to push her away by the chest but the girl was attached to you, “shh, let it happen” she mockingly scolds, giving you a stern look before she kissed you breathlessly.

that’s when you hear it, the chuckles and teasing coming from familiar blondes, alex and chloe. “get it, baby bronze” alex whistles, you and leila pulled away with a roll of both of your eyes.

“don’t forget about that photo i have of you, alex” you threaten, one taken of her with an expression on her face during a header that had her screeching in fear when she saw you laughing at it.

“you’re just as annoying as your sister” alex flips you off when you blow her a kiss, laughing as they walked away.

leila squishes your cheeks together with one of her hands, forming your lips into a little pout, “mi amor (my love), those are my kisses” she grins lazily, clearly teasing you when she placed a little kiss on your forced pout.

you usher her off to training, giving her a playful slap on her backside that she shook her head at.

—

it was during the 2023 world cup that you both got found out, and boy was it an experience. your sister was extremely confused as to why you were so excited spain was in the final, wondering what your certain new interest about the spanish team was about.

“don’t tell me you’re a traitor, munchkin?” lucy scoffs while you set up your camera on the pitch during a pre-match walk.

“luce, i’ve got my england merch on, thank you” you laugh, shaking your head as you take a quick photo of her with an evident frown on her face, her eyes narrowed at you.

“why do you keep looking at their bench?” she questions, following your eyes to see some of the spain girls walking out to do their own checks.

“why are you so paranoid, lucia?” you tease, punching her lightly on the arm and wincing when a slap made its way to the back of your head.

“some of the girl’s play for city, i’m just being nice” you rub your head in slight pain, glaring at your older sister that she returned.

“i’ll find out, i always do” she concludes, letting you go back to taking some photos and other little media bits.

—

and unfortunately for you. she did find out.

the girls were lining up in the tunnel, about 5 minutes until everyone would walk out. ironically you see you sister standing next to leila in the tunnel, you try to fight your smile when you make eye contact with your girlfriend.

she smiles at you, your bodies moving on their own as you completed her pre match ritual, three quick pecks on the lips.

you both smiled brightly when you pulled back, before you heard a sharp voice coming from behind you.

“what the fuck was that?” your sister exclaimed, her hand on your shoulder and spinning you around, both yours and leila’s eyes widened, realising what had just happened. “fucking ouahabi” she breathes out in disbelief.

“i really hope you’re fucking joking, (y/n) bronze because i’m not fucking laughing” she says lowly, not wanting to attract much attention but she was.

you just look up at your sister in shock, mouth slightly agape, “nah, we’re talking about this. later” she glares, both at you and leila.

the girls walk out and you watch them dumbly as you go. you were grateful that moment wasn’t recorded.

during half time your sister wouldn’t even look at you, brushing you off like you were nothing. “don’t” she pleads, walking past you as you tried to approach her.

you walk to the tunnel and felt the tears pricking in your eyes, and like a magnet, leila’s hand found yours, dragging you into a quiet corner where the two of you could have some privacy.

as soon as your girlfriend brought you into a tight embrace, you broke down. “shh, it’s okay” she hums, kissing your cheek softly as you cried in her arms.

she pulls back slightly, looking at you with a sad expression when she saw your tear streaked face, her hand moving up to wipe away the evidence.

“i didn’t want her to find out like that, i was ready to tell her tonight” you sniffle, leila nods along with your words, listening to your little ramble intently as she comforted you.

“i know, bebé (baby), i know” she says sympathetically, pulling you into another hug and just holding you.

she stayed with you the entire time, talking you down and making you look presentable before you went back on the pitch.

she knew she would get subbed off anyway, only wanting to focus on you for the minute. you were still in a hug when lucy came out of the change room, her face softening when she saw your red eyes.

she was about to say something but she stopped herself, not wanting to do this right away. she weirdly smiles at both of you, tight lipped but still somewhat of a smile.

“it’s okay” leila whispers, and it really felt like it was.

leila kisses you softly before she makes her way back on the pitch, and of course when the match ended and england lost, the mood changed.

your sister let you hug her tightly after the loss, holding onto you for dear life as she hugged you. “luce, i’m so sorry, you played so well” you whispered, your hand rubbing up and down her back.

“i’m sorry, munchkin, we still need to talk” she sniffles, wiping away her tears and giving you a gentle smile. you nod, pulling her into another tight hug before you went off to congratulate your girlfriend, weirdly through the encouragement of your sister.

“hey, baby” you smile at your girlfriend, giving her a quick hug when she presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she greets with a bright smile, “congratulations” you whisper, she thanks you quickly, looking over your shoulder to see your sister hovering around with tears in her eyes, walking around by herself.

“give me one second” leila whispers, gripping your hand gently and walking over to lucy, you and your sister having matching surprised expressions.

“i want to honest, i love your sister, we have been together for a year and we were going to tell you sooner but she was really scared and i respect her” she blurts out,

“i would love to talk about this with you, if you’ll let me” leila says nervously, lucy pauses for a moment before nodding, pulling leila into an extremely quick hug but extremely meaningful.

“sure thing, leila” your sister smiles, a little laugh escaping her lips, “you know, you broke rule number one” lucy teases, telling you everything was going to be okay.

“it doesn’t count! you left when she came over” you groan, letting leila tuck you into her side as she giggled, watching you and your sister bicker like kids.

she could tell how much you cared about each other. but lucy could tell the same for the both of you.

—

all three of you did have that talk, you and your girlfriend explained the details of your relationship to your sister that she was actually quite happy about.

she’d never seen you so happy, so light with any of your previous partners.

she could tell you both loved each other because it was so painfully obvious but she was truly happy after she let out a rant about how you literally broke every rule in the contact.

she got over it though, a hefty shopping spree having your bank account screaming for salvation.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily oniiii

liked by alexiaputellas and 44,232 others

leilaouahabi: biggest fan and personal photographer

view all comments

yourname: baby, my job is a photographer

↳ leilaouahabi: you’re no fun

lucybronze: hands off my sister

↳ yourname: you’re annoying

↳ lucybronze: you’re annoying

↳ leilaouahabi: i won’t touch her i swear

↳ yourname: sureeeeeeee

alexgreenwood5: so happy i don’t have to but my tongue anymore

↳ lucybronze: you knew?

↳ alexgreenwood5: no comment

leahwilliamsonn: told you!!

↳ yourname: you really did!

[abbyshands]

for you

🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | m. list | join my tag list!

♡ synopsis; making a home out of catalina island for years on end had been wonderful, but for most of it, you had been derived of the last piece of the puzzle: abigail anderson. you were a skilled medic, so when abby had showed up, you had cared for her, and nursed her back to the girl she was, helping her to heal, and to find home the same way you had. now, it’s abby’s chance to return the favor.

♡ pairing; abby anderson x fem!reader

♡ warnings; lot of game references, some of which include infected, the WLF, plot of the first and second game, loss, violence, etc, general angst (ish) in the beginning, but fluffy at the end, i promise, reader loses her dad in the backstory, and there’s a heavily established backstory for the reader, abby uses nicknames (my love, babe, gorgeous), reader calls abby baby, just general angst n’ fluff tbh!

♡ a/n; sooo this idea has been sitting in my notes app for the longest time, and to be honest, i’m not sure how i feel about the finished product! i don’t think it’s my best work? i don’t know. i like the idea but i’m unsure about the way i executed it. maybe i’ll revisit it at some point, but this is what i’ve got for now ♡

♡ wc; 4.5k

divider creds !

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS. APOCALYPSE.

If someone had told you four years prior that this is where you would be today, you would’ve checked them for a bite mark.

Because they would have been losing their mind.

2034, and all the years beforehand, were years unforgettable. The person you were couldn’t imagine a life that wasn’t the one you had. Infected roamed, and danger lurked. But love prevailed.

And you were lucky to be a part of it.

You were born in Boston, Massachusetts in the 2010’s at an unlucky hour. To an unlucky life. You had lost your mom before you could say your own name, and the only biological family you had ever gotten to know in your life was your dad, who was the reason you were where you were today in the first place.

When you were young, your dad joined a group once asked to by the leader of it, a woman named Marlene. Since then, and for as long as you could remember, this group has been your place to call home.

They called themselves the Fireflies for the very bug they took the name from: Their goal was to spread luminescence in a world full of darkness. Your dad, who was an incredibly skilled medic, was roped into it when you were younger, for that very reason. And because of the group’s dire need for medics at the time, their leader, Marlene, who was an old friend of your dad’s, asked him to join, all but begged him to, really.

Your dad wasn’t one to deny anyone in need. It was in his nature, and it was why he was such a great medic. So, of course, he agreed.

But only if there would be a place for you, too.

Your dad raised you up as a member of the Fireflies, and then later as a medic, and it was because of him that you were who you were: A resilient individual, a survivor, and yet, a person who embodied compassion, just as he did.

The years went by hazily, the older you got, anyway. You became just as immersed into your work as your dad did, bettering your medical knowledge on a daily basis, be it by old books, rusted cassettes, or your dad himself. But all the while, you managed to balance work, love, and family, and, in a world like this one, that was a lot more than most people could say.

For obvious reasons, you couldn’t remember the 2010’s. Then came the 2020’s, which sped by your eyes. But the 2030’s as a general consensus were years ingrained into your brain. Full of friendship, family, and love? At times. But they also encompassed chaos, despair, and pressure, and changed your life forever.

And forever was a long time.

In the year 2033, all that you believed was true about the world as you knew it, crumbled to the ground. In a land following an apocalypse, it wasn’t uncommon to feel as if there was no way out, as if the life you lived had hit a place of no return.

Now, if only there was a way to fix it. A cure, right?

It was late one evening while you were working on somebody in the Fireflies’ medical center, that Marlene came into the room, expression serious, and voice showing for it. Once you had the person you had been caring for under control, you followed Marlene out of the center, and into a room of a pair of people, one familiar, and one not.

Your dad, and a man who would later become a crucial figure in this tale: Surgical expert, Doctor Jerry Anderson.

You didn’t understand what Marlene, your dad, and Mr. Anderson, as you used to call him, were getting at when you were first pulled into that room. All that they were explaining to you was blurring inside of your head.

Because it was unlike anything you had heard before.

Your ears were told a tale that you had heard on numerous occasions. A girl who was only a few years younger than you, was bitten. You weren’t sure how. But it didn’t really matter, did it? Everyone who was bitten turned into an animal in a matter of days. It didn’t matter how she had gotten the bite mark. It didn’t even matter where on her body the mark was. All you knew was that in a few days, this girl that was being described to you, would no longer be human. That she would no longer have control over her body, and she would no longer know right from wrong, up from down, man from woman. All she would know, was kill. Kill. Kill.

Unless she was one in a million.

Ellie Williams was hardly a human in your mind when you originally heard, but a God given chance, to fix the world as you knew it. You never believed you would live to see the day where a bite mark was a good thing, and yet, it was here, gazing you in the eyes.

Immunity. She was immune. The auburn haired girl had been bitten three weeks prior to the date you heard about this, and zilch. As Marlene had explained to you, it was like the mark was healing, not worsening. 

And in a desolate world, where danger lurked every corner, where sorrow was normalized, and where loss was ceaseless, you were desperate. The Fireflies were desperate. Hope like this didn’t come on a daily basis, now, did it?

You jumped on the prospect as soon as you became conscious of it. All of you did.

Graciously unaware that it would blow up in your face.

In the earlier days of 2034, Ellie was smuggled to a Firefly base in Salt Lake City, a medical center, where your dad, Mr. Anderson, and several Fireflies were residing. As head medic by this point, you decided to remain in Boston caring for the members of your group back home, especially in the absence of your dad and Mr. Anderson.

It’s your life’s biggest regret.

Marlene had asked that you come to the Salt Lake City medical center as soon as you could, and to employ someone else to take over for a bit. Mr. Anderson was a good doctor, but he had decided that to perform proper surgery on Ellie, he would need a few more hands. You were honored that it was you he had chosen. To you, it was on the same level as getting an award. And so, alongside Marlene, and a few more members of the group, you made your way to Salt Lake City, your hopes in your hands, and dreams in your heart.

There was a point during the journey, however, where you ran into some trouble. Infected. And naturally, you were not just a medic: You knew how to survive in a world like this, and you knew how to hold your ground.

Splitting up wasn’t usually recommended when it came to any scenario, and for good reasons. However, it was your only choice. You and everyone beside you aside from Marlene, split up to make sure that she was the first one to make it to the medical center. You remember the last thing you said to her like a movie on loop in your head. See you soon.

And it plagues your brain like the virus that grips your world.

See you soon. You wish you had never said it. You wish you had never split up.

You wish it hadn’t happened.

You did see Marlene. But she was no longer alive when it happened. Fear grasped your bones as your body paralyzed, eyes glued to Marlene’s bloody corpse on the second floor of the medical center’s parking garage.

Tears filled your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And then, you remembered.

Dad.

You took off running, brain not even processing that you could be putting yourself in danger by doing so. Whoever had done this to Marlene couldn’t be faraway from the building for all you knew. Hell, they could even be in it. But you didn’t care.

You booked it to the highest floor, where your dad and Mr. Anderson were supposed to be, heart racing, begging and bargaining to the universe, or whatever God there was, or somebody, to ensure that they were okay. That they were just fine.

There are some days where you wish you hadn’t opened that door.

The pair of them, alongside a third medic in the room, were found by you in a shape similar to Marlene. Naturally, you ran to dad first, small, shaky hands reaching out to flip over his face down body.

But you were too late.

Your mind goes blurry whenever it goes back to recall the memory. You don’t remember much: Tears, nausea, shaking, panic. You remember screaming, loudly, at that.

And you remember passing out, before being pulled out of the room.

The second that Jerry Anderson was announced dead, all hell broke loose, and you knew, you knew, it was over. The chance that had been driving you and your family of Fireflies for the last year, was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. Unless a brand new surgeon was going to generously drop from the sky, you were hopeless. 

And it wasn’t even just that.

Because the universe had taken from you the one person you held closest to your heart. To your soul.

Dad.

You had a chance. You all did. 

And, then, it was robbed away from you.

You and your dying group made your way back to Boston knowing just that: That you were collapsing. The days passed by in blurs, each one gloomier than the last. You just weren’t sure what to do anymore. All hope for a cure was gone. All hope for yourself was gone.

In 2036, the Fireflies were disbanded by what little members of it were around to do so, and that was it. It was over. 

Your home was paradise, and paradise was gone.

You didn’t know what to do. Most of the family you had found here in the Fireflies was leaving, searching for a life away from the one you all had known for years. You didn’t know if you wanted to do the same. Part of you wanted to follow suit and leave Boston. Renew who you were. Adapt, and move on. But Boston had always been home, and by leaving it, you were leaving a part of you behind.

But you didn’t have a choice.

It was an early morning in 2036 when you began to pack your bags, readying to go. Where? It didn’t matter. All you knew was that home or not, Boston carried way too many painful memories, way more than you could bear. Marlene was dead. Mr. Anderson was dead. Dad was gone.

You didn’t see what else Boston had to give, that it hadn’t already taken away.

But just, just, when you were about to say your goodbyes, the universe, who had screwed you over in the past, clearly had different plans.

A few members had heard word, from previous members who had left the Fireflies before you, that on the west coast of the country, there was a chance: A chance to find home again, in a place named Catalina Island, a gorgeous land in California.

Risks had failed you before, and so had second chances. But, for once, you wanted to give in. You had to.

So you did.

That’s not to say that the second you got to Catalina Island, finding home once again in your fellow Fireflies, who were just as shattered as you were, that your tale was over. God, it was really, really far from it.

Because there was one more piece to the puzzle.

Abigail Anderson.

Anderson. The last name rang a bell once it escaped her lips. A blonde woman, body bruised, bloodied, and covered from the arms down in oozing gashes. Her hair was short and poorly cut, and from the way her bones were pushing into her skin, you could tell that she was severely malnourished.

Alongside her was a boy, obviously younger than her. Tousled black hair, bruises wherever you looked, and fully unconscious. In your time at Catalina Island, and as a Firefly in Boston, for that matter, you had never seen any pair of people in worse shape.

Not unless they were dead.

You remained head medic once you arrived in Catalina Island, naturally, and you had been managing that way for the last four years. So, when this woman showed up, this young boy by her side, like this, it was you who took control. It was you who nursed them, and it was you who made their scars, in a physical and mental sense, not disappear, but easier to handle. To bear.

By looking at them, by looking at her, it was like a mirror. You saw you.

Which is why you saw her.

Now, if someone had told you four years prior that this is where you would be today, losing your dad, losing Marlene, and losing Mr. Anderson, but falling for his child, you would’ve looked for a bite mark. But now, come the year 2040, where you had made a new life, one that Abigail Anderson was a prevalent part of, happiness no longer seemed impossible.

Because it wasn’t far away anymore, slipping from your fingers, the way it had on numerous occasions. 

It was in your hands.

And you were in Abby’s.

Your eyes were being covered by Abby’s large hands as she led you to a place unknown. You had to assume it was one of the several beaches on the island, sand under your feet, sounds of waves in your ears. A smile had been plastered across your face for what seemed like hours, as Abby dragged you along.

“Come on, Abby. Are you going to tell me what this is about or what?” you asked her for the second time in the last minute. You could hear her low chuckle from behind you, and the way it always happens, comfort surges into your veins.

You had learned from Abby, once you bonded over the mutual loss of your dad and hers at the same man, that once Mr. Anderson had been killed, her and her friends, a few former members of the Fireflies, joined a group named the WLF. You had hence learned that during her time there, she was commonly known as a rugged, scary person, who a lot of people in the WLF didn’t dare insult, nor disobey.

And you couldn’t lie: It was hard to believe that for a second.

You had learned from Abby, also, that her resolve began to slip when she met the young boy who she had made it to Catalina Island alongside, who you had also taken care of: Lev. To put it simply, Lev was a member of a different group, that the WLF was never supposed to come across.

Not unless it was in war.

But he changed her. He did. Some days, you could see how guarded Abby was, how she couldn’t help going back to all she used to know, which was being all but barbaric when she was in Seattle. Closed off, wary. But most days, like today? You knew in your heart, that deep down in hers, Abby Anderson was good. Not innocent, but good.

And that was enough for you.

“Just come on!” Abby chuckled as she walked, not letting up her hold on your eyes for a second as she led you along.

You smiled, shaking your head in mock disapproval. “I have work to do back at the center, and we’re not supposed to be roaming around like this. You know that, right?”

“Babe,” Abby responded in an almost firm tone of voice as her feet quit moving, forcing you to root your body to the spot. It was silent, before she pressed a series of sweet, sloppy kisses to your neck and cheeks, managing to keep her hand over your eyes all the while. She had you crumbling just like that, making you a giggling mess as her lips met your skin.

Her kisses subsided once a million of them seeped into you, and it wasn’t the island heat that had your face warm when Abby was done. “Can you just trust me, please?” she laughed, and you didn’t need your vision to know she was giving you that puppy dog look that had you falling to your knees every time. The one that you couldn’t resist if you gave it your all.

You were too easy. “Yes.”

It wasn’t long before you and Abby reached where she wanted to bring you, and once you did, she paused. She was perched behind you now, large hands over your face, the solacing sound of her sighs coming into your ears. “Okay. Are you ready, my love?”

There wouldn't ever be a day where Abby calling you that wouldn’t make your heart pound in your chest.

“More than,” you easily respond.

As soon as you said it, Abby returned your vision to you, and your eyes can’t help but widen at what you see before you.

Because you never pegged “rugged” Abby Anderson as one for picnics.

“Oh, my God, Abby,” you said more to yourself than the blonde as you slowly approached the scene. Laid out on the sand of the beach was a picnic blanket, a folded blanket, a few pillows, a basket, a few books, and playing cards.

Accompanied by a perfect view of the beach.

“Do you not like it?” Abby asked, and there’s an air of sadness to the way she says it. You turn to look at her on cue, your face one of complete, utter disbelief.

Like it?

“Like it? Baby, I love this. More than know,” you respond, meaning every word. It’s been a long time since someone has wanted to care for you. A long, long time, since you had been the receiver, not the giver.

“Abs, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You can see Abby blushing as you approach her and take her face into your hands, her freckled skin burning in heat. She leans into your touch, pressing her forehead onto yours, and holding your hands in her own.

“I just,” Abby sighed, opening her eyes once more to meet yours, solemn expression across her cheeks. “I just don’t feel like I cherish you enough, babe, show it, that is. Because believe me, I do cherish you. S’just, it’s been hard for me to show you how much. All that you did for me and Lev when we got to the island. Taking care of us. Helping us find a home here. I’ll spend the rest of my life saying thank you for it.”

You can feel your soul healing the more Abby speaks.

“I know this isn’t nearly enough to make up for what you did for us, and I wish it was. But I just figured, maybe. . .it could suffice for now.”

“Abby, baby,” you let a small laugh escape your lips as you say it. “You don’t have to make it up to me. At all. I did what I did, because I saw someone in you. I remember asking for your name, and you responded by asking me where Lev was. You didn’t even care what shape you were in. All you wanted to know was if he was okay. You reminded me of me.”

“You reminded me of dad.”

You couldn’t help but sigh, letting silence seep into the air around you as your brain battled to process what you had just said. You didn’t speak on your dad as much as you likely should: Abby knew that, and so did you. Talking about him made your chest compress, and your throat would fail you, making it feel as if you were choking. As if you were helpless. As if you were there all over again. But Abby knew as well as you did, that when your dad came into discussion, it was for a certain reason. 

And for that reason, Abby didn’t speak: She hung fire. For you. For you.

“We live in a world where people combat their own morals just to survive. There’s no good guys. No principles, no rules, no laws. Anyone you come across is just as bad as you, and if not, they’re worse. But when I saw you? I knew. I knew that wasn’t you. Not anymore.”

You know you’re rambling by now, saying whatever comes to mind as soon as it does, but you can’t find it in you to care as you go on. “You want to believe I don’t know how much you care for me. But you don’t need to show it, Abby. I know you do. Right here.”

You take one of Abby’s large hands into yours, and as cliché as it is, not that you care at all, you place it over your heart.

“You feel that, don’t you? That’s all for you, baby. And it’s there that I feel how much you care about me. It’s there that I know.”

The same silence that was here before comes back. But this time, it’s not sad, or dark, or eerie. It’s solacing. It’s warm. It’s home.

And Abby doesn’t need words in order to respond.

It’s her turn to take your face into her hands as she pulls you in close. Her lips meet yours like they have so many times before, her familiar scent hitting your nose as you settle your hands onto her hips. The kiss is slow, and sweet, but passionate, and a burning desire surges inside you to never let her go, to always hold her close. To always call her yours.

You pull back from the kiss once you tire from it, gasping, Abby’s body mimicking yours as she does the same. You gaze into her eyes, the pretty blue ones that always make your heart swell, smiling up at her as you press one last kiss to her lips for good measure. “I adore you, Abby Anderson. You know that, right?” you grin.

It’s the first time you ever hear her giggle. “Me more than you, gorgeous.”

You spend hours there alongside Abby, and it’s the best time of your life. You spend time indulging in a few snacks the blonde packed for you, playing cards, and running around and playing in the sand, smiling all the way. You even get to hear Abby read to you, one of the most endearing things in the world, accompanied by the calming sound of the ocean before you. And when it came time for sunset, you sat down beside Abby, gazing on as amber, ochre, and rose faded into night.

It was perfect.

When it was nearly time for the evening to come to an end, you used the second blanket Abby had packed for your shared night to cuddle up beside her, heads rested on the pillows she had carried along as well. The side of your face was pressed into her chest as you gazed into the sky above you, Abby’s hand rubbing your back in slow circles to console you. Small suns coat the evening sky like sweet, powdered sugar, accompanied by a full moon that looks incredible over the horizon. All you could hear was the sound of the ocean, alongside Abby sighing gingerly every once in a while, or her pressing kisses to your forehead.

Not that you needed much more than that.

Suddenly, the sound of Abby chuckling in your ears snaps you out of your head, and you turn your face upwards curiously. Abby’s smile makes you smile, and it’s no surprise you began to wonder what the blonde woman found so funny all of a sudden.

“Remember how I told you Lev and I had to cross those bridges that were really high up?” Abby asked, and you had to raise an eyebrow, wondering where this was going. “Mhm,” you mumble, which is when Abby goes on.

“Well, before that, we had to get there by foot once we got out of the aquarium I told you about, the one I used to go to all of the time. That part of Seattle is overrun in rushing rapids, so a lot of the buildings around there were a lot more demolished than they usually would be anywhere else,” she explained.

“And, well. . .”

“We walked into this building, and there was a painting of these dogs playing cards. And I asked Lev if he knew our dogs could really play cards like that. Then he asked me if anyone found me funny,” Abby laughed. “It cracks me up whenever I remember it.”

She wasn’t the only one laughing. “Sounds like Lev. And like you,” you smile, and the tale makes you recall a humorous memory of your own. “Once, I was working late at the medical center back in Boston. I was doing research on this girl who had been feeling sick, but I wasn’t sure by what. Mind you, it’s late, and silent, if you don’t count me flipping the pages in my books.”

You giggle just remembering it. “It’s the weirdest thing ever, but my dad was really good at making Clicker noises. Like, really good. Sounded so real it made your heart drop. I was reading when I heard it, and I remember wondering how the hell infected had gotten inside. ‘Course I grab what was closest to me, a scalpel, and I swivel around.”

“And it’s dad.”

That one got Abby to burst out chuckling. “Oh, my God. Of all the things you could get, gorgeous. A scalpel?”

You rolled your eyes in response, playfully so. “What can I say? I’m just a medic. I didn’t carry a gun.”

Once Abby’s done laughing, which seems to take forever, she smiles down at you, pressing one more kiss to your forehead as if to make up for poking fun at you. You cuddle closer into her, letting your body relax in her embrace as a sigh escapes your lips.

You fall back into silence soon enough, eyes glued to the sky as Abby rubs her hand over your back, holding you like you would fade away if she let you go. You run your fingers through her short hair as you press kisses to her neck, jaw, and face, giving her all the love you know she deserves. Your eyes scan her features like she was molded by some higher power, and you can’t help but want to worship her, endlessly.

Not just for what she looks like. But for who she is.

“My baby. It’s like you were made for me, you know?” you whisper in Abby’s ear as your eyes pierce into her blue ones. But Abby’s head shook quickly.

You can predict what she’s going to say in response. “No, gorgeous.”

“It’s you who was made for me.”

—

reblogs are very much welcomed! <3

—

[papaya-twinks]

blue and orange 🧡💙 - l.n

Warnings: None!

Pairing: Lando Norris x colapinto!reader

“Y/N,” your brother, Franco, smiled to you, showing you his phone, which has an Instagram DM message on it, as you read through it, eyes scanning across it. 

Hey man, just wanted to say good luck for the race, you’ll smash it, shoot me a message if you ever need advice on anything :)

“That’s nice,” you said, eyes moving up from the message to the name of the contact - Lando. “He’s the McLaren one, right?” you asked, a smile on your face, a mixture of gratitude and pride. Gratitude that there was someone on the grid who was prepared to look after your older brother. 

And pride that Franco had come so far as a driver. “Yeah,” a Franco said, a grin on his face, “reminds me, did you manage to get time off to come to the race?”. Obviously you did. You’d never miss your brother’s first F1 race for the world. 

So you followed your brother into the paddock, a smile on your face as you walked in, breathing the scent of the paddock in as your brother walked beside you along with his trainer. “Hey mate,” a voice called to your brother from where you were, making you look round to see the same guy who’d messaged your brother. Lando.

“Hello,” Franco said, smiling to the taller man as you stood politely beside Franco, albeit a little uncomfortable, until Franco introduced you, snapping your attention back to the pair of them. “This is my sister, Y/N,” he said as Lando nodded and smiled to you. 

The first thing he noticed was just how pretty you were, with your gorgeous and pretty lips…wow. “It’s nice to meet you,” Lando said to you kindly, as you returned his words with a small smile. “See you soon,” you said, as the drivers were ushered towards the drivers parade. 

You watched from your little spot in the Williams garage, a proud smile on your face as you saw how Lando kept your brother by his side, listening to whatever he was saying, and including him in conversations with others. The race, however, it didn’t go so well.

For Franco, his qualifying hadn’t been so good, but for Lando? Yes, he’d started on P1, but he’d ended up in P3. Which would’ve been a good result maybe back in 2020, but now? It was abysmal. “Sorry about the race,” you said, seeing Lando walking down the pit lane, looking a little disgruntled. 

He grumbled something, opening his mouth to snap something back, til he looked up, seeing you. For a second, he was enchanted. Lando’s eyes didn’t leave your face, his lips parted slightly, pupils dilated, before he managed to snap himself out of it. 

“It’s okay, not your fault,” he said with a smile. Not your fault. Not your fault?! Why the hell had he said that? Of course ot wouldn’t be your fault, it wasn’t rocket science! God, was he already messing up his chances with a pretty girl like you? Fuck. 

“Franco did well,” Lando said, attempting to start conversation as you nodded slowly, an awkward silence falling onto the pair of you. “Thank you for looking after him,” you said after a few seconds, as Lando gave you a warm smile.

“Hey, uh, how would you feel about you and your brother flying back with me in my jet?” Lando asked, a wide-eyed expression across your face. You’d never flown first-class, let alone in a private jet, and the idea was a bit exciting. “I…yeah,” you said, a smile on your face. 

“I’ll get Franco to text you if we can,” you said, fully turning your body back to Lando as you nodded. “You can always tell me,” he said, holding his hand out for you to give him your phone. “I…smooth, Norris,” you said, a giggle on your lips as you handed over the device. 

[kjupchurch-xx]

Conflicting Feelings Part Six

As the morning sunset swept through my hotel room's balcony view, I felt Hugh begin stirring in his sleep, "G'day, gorgeous." He said sleepily as I felt him start stretching. 

I smiled, "Good morning, sexy." I purred, leaning up to peck his lips before moving out of the bed towards the bathroom to turn on the shower. 

Today was going to be bittersweet. I was going back home today, my stay in LA had come to an end. It was time for me to head back to the East Coast, to the beautiful, busy town of New York City. Hugh was in LA for the filming of the new Deadpool & Wolverine movie, so I'd be going back to NYC solo. Truth be told, I missed my condo in New York, but I knew I'd miss my favorite Aussie even more. 

Now that things are beginning to happen, the thought of leaving breaks my heart. I didn't realize I was reacting to my thoughts until his voice interrupted the thoughts racing through my brain. I felt two arms snake around me, "What's wrong, my love?" He asked softly. 

I sniffled, quickly wiping a fallen tear from my cheek, "I'm leaving today to go back home." I said as my voice trembled. 

He frowned, "Today?" He asked, making sure he heard me correctly. I nodded, staying silent, trying to control my flooding emotions. "Do you have to go back home today?" He asked. 

I sighed, "I paid for a round trip, so my flight's already booked. I can't get a refund and I can't afford to lose the money." 

He kissed my forehead, "I'll take care of it." He said simply. 

I looked at him, shaking my head. "I can't let you do that." 

He smiled, "I want to and I can." pecking my lips again. 

I rolled my eyes, "I don't want you doing that. I paid for first class and that's not cheap." 

He chuckled, "You do realize I make millions, right love? I'm making $20 million from Deadpool. I can assure you a first class plane ticket will not break me."

I shrugged, "And I'm staying where?" 

He looked at his phone, "With Noldsy and Blake, and of course me. You have to babysit their kids from time to time, but it's not that bad." He chuckled.  

I looked at him, "You seriously want me to cancel my flight?" I asked, grabbing my phone. 

He pouted, "I would be heartbroken if you didn't." 

I smiled, "And Ryan and Blake are okay with this?" I questioned. 

He rolled his eyes, "C'mon, you know Ryan and Blake love you." 

I sighed, "Okay, if you insist..." I logged onto my app and canceled my flight, luckily receiving a 50% refund for a last minute cancellation from the flight insurance I'd purchased when I first paid for the ticket. "It's cancelled." I said, throwing my phone down, pulling him into the shower with me. 

As we washed off he spoke, "We'll drop your rental car off when we head out. We can take mine back to Ryan and Blake's." 

I nodded, "Okay, but I need to make a stop and get some more clothes. I packed for five days and I'm not wearing the same outfits for another week." 

He kissed my forehead, while rinsing my hair out, "We can do that." 

After our shower and packing up the hotel room, we parted ways to drop off my rental car, Hugh following close behind me in his. 

Hugh's POV:  

As I followed close behind her, I was overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the course of knowing her. We'd met each other in 2020 when she starred as an extra on a show I was working on. I had very little interaction with her on the show, but backstage was a different story. She approached me and told me how she was starstruck to work with Wolverine, which made me laugh. 

She was only 22 years old when I met her, I was 51, turning 52. She was an attractive young woman. She was funny, she was intelligent and she was humble. I thought nothing about her until we'd cut up on set and spent hours talking. She had a boyfriend and I had a wife at home, not to mention I like older women. We'd remained friends until she came to my rescue when my father died. That's when things went wild for me. Several things took place that her pride will not allow her to talk about, but I couldn't stop thinking about them. 

When I arrived back to NYC and to Deb, I separated myself from her. COVID made it easier. I kept trying to block the feelings out because I knew they were wrong. I forced myself to focus on Deb, and Deb only, but that only made us grow further apart in our marriage. 

While in England, not only did I walk in on her changing and saw her breasts, there was one night she had too much to drink and confessed many things to me that she has no memory of. She talked about her difficult upbringing, she talked about her failed relationships, but she doesn't have any recollection of admitting to me that she loved me and dreamed that one day I'd be hers. Or how if my marriage ever ends, she was claiming me for herself. That night, I'd had a few drinks myself and we shared a kiss. 

I thought about how after I walked in on her, she'd became what I'd imagine when I'd wank off. I'd imagine how perfect her breasts were, how I wanted to run my hands down every curve on her body as I fucked her, and how her pussy would taste, or how tight it would be around my fingers. I thought about how much I'd want to pleasure her and make her orgasm so much that she couldn't function anymore. Just the thought of her made my dick throb.

But, it was more than just sex with her. She was genuinely my favorite human being, besides my children and of course, Ryan Reynolds. She was there for me during one of the hardest times of my life. She keeps me grounded and focused on the bigger picture, even if I struggle to see it. I'd spent 20 years thinking I was with the love of my life, until I realized I didn't know the meaning of it when she came to England that night. 

Main Reader's POV: 

As we arrived at the drop-off for the rental car, I quickly returned the keys, heading back outside only to be bombarded by photographers. They photographed Hugh, me, us in the car together, etc as they asked if we were an item. 

"They're fucking relentless, jesus christ." I mumbled. 

He chuckled, "You act like you haven't had the press bother you." 

I giggled, "Not to that extent. That was different."

He reached over grabbing my hand, interlocking it with his, bringing it to his lips, placing a small kiss on my knuckles, "Did you want to get clothes now?" 

I blushed, shaking my head, "Let's get to Ryan's first. Let them calm down and then we'll go." I said regarding the photographers. 

He chuckled, "Okay, we can do that." 

The drive to Ryan's wasn't long. It was full of Hugh singing along to songs on the radio. He had a beautiful voice and hearing it on screen was nothing compared to hearing it in person. About 5 minutes later, we arrived at Ryan's place. Ryan and Blake weren't home. Ryan was filming scenes and Blake was promoting her new movie. The kids were with a nanny since Nanny Hugh had been MIA all weekend. 

As we walked in and made it to the bedroom Hugh was staying in, he ran his fingers through his beard, "I've gotta shave this." He said to himself. 

I smirked, "Can I help?" 

He giggled, "Can you do the Wolverine shave? It has to be perfect for the film." 

I shrugged, "It can't be too hard to shave mutton chops."

"Shawn will kill me if you fuck this up." He laughed, handing me a set of clippers. 

I giggled, grabbing them. "I won't fuck this up. Do you know how in love with Logan I was as a child?" 

He playfully rolled his eyes, "Don't say it like that. It makes me feel old and it's making me feel weird. You know I was 32 or 33 when I filmed that."

I shrugged, "I was 4 when it was released." 

He cringed, "God, stop. Let's talk about something else." 

I chuckled as I began shaving the infamous mutton chops, "I love making you uncomfortable." I said playfully. 

He looked up at me, "I'm not giving you a reaction while you're shaving my face, but I've noticed." 

As I finished up showing him my kick ass skills as a barber, we heard a voice downstairs, "Oh, Hugh! Where you at big fella?! It's your favorite Canadian. A little birdie called the media just told me you're with a hot little number. Is she here?" 

We quickly jumped at the sound of his voice, looking at one another, making a run for the door to meet him downstairs.  Ryan looked at us, still wearing the Deadpool suit, "Ah, there she is. Hot little number, this is my humble abode" He chuckled as he swayed his arms around showing me his living room. 

"Why are you in your suit, mate? They actually let you bring Deadpool's suit home?" Hugh asked, smirking, knowing Ryan was instructed to not leave set with the suit. 

Ryan smirked, "Sir, I will have you know, I stole this suit." 

I joked, "Levy is going to beat you."

Ryan laughed, "He can try, but no one can beat me in this suit, darling." 

I rolled my eyes, "Mutton Chops! Look at you." He exclaimed at Hugh, noticing the freshly shaved face. 

Hugh laughed as Ryan's face got serious, "Seriously though, I have a question for you." He said, pointing towards me. 

"And that is?" I asked, furrowing my brows. 

Ryan looked at Hugh and I, "We're rounding up people to play the Deadpool variants. Blake is Lady Deadpool, but there's another female one. Do you want to do it?" He asked. 

I gasped, "Are you serious?" my eyes widened. 

He smirked, "As a heart attack, sister. Plus, I figured it would give Hughy here more time to spend with you."  

[carolmunson]

let's go, don't wait (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, some sexual themes. some discussions of bad parents. eddie had some sad parts of his childhood. all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (11k) eddie is 32, reader is 30. so older!reader i guess, idk. i already started writing the part two which is almost entirely smut.

Jingle. Click. Creak. “Mmmm.” Eddie knows that groan anywhere, the deep primal urging of a one Gareth Emerson and the giggles of his girlfriend, Tatianna Edwards. They stumble into the apartment, lips attached, hands grabbing and fisting each other’s layers from the cold. 

“Hi guys,” he calls out, his tone was as bored and annoyed as he hoped it would be. His eyes don’t leave the TV, transfixed on the screen while he watches another YouTube compilation of the best guitar solos of all time. He disagrees with most of them, but it’s enough to drone on in the background while he scrolls through his Twitter feed. He’s never even posted. Not once. Not even a picture on his profile. 

“Hi Ed,” Tati chirps, clicking the side table lights on. He can smell her Chloe perfume when she comes to give him a hug hello. Her arms wrap around him from behind the couch, cheeks touching, a few of her butterfly twists falling forward over his shoulder. 

“Did you stay in tonight?” she asks, pressing a glossy smooch to his cheek. “Sure did,” he huffs, arms crossing over hers in a semblance of an embrace. Her gold bracelets are cool against his skin, her gold rings match his silver ones. He thought when Tati entered the picture that he and Gareth would’ve started to drift apart. Instead, Tati became Eddie’s new best friend – Gare really took ‘date the girl version of Eddie’ to heart. They were two peas in a pod. “You should’ve come out, there were a lot of single girls there – you’re a good dancer, you coulda snagged one,” she sounds like a mother trying to set him up. Eddie tilts his head up and looks at her from below, her deep skin shimmering with the glitter fallout from her eye makeup. She always looks pretty with ease, even with her makeup smudged – like she meant to do that. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” he smiles tightly, but the look falls to something soft when Tati lets go and her almond shaped manicured nails rake gently over his scalp through his conditioned curls.  “You can’t just keep picking up girls from shows, dude,” Gareth chides playfully, coming around the couch to sit next to him, “They’re starting to get waaaay too young for you at the bars.”

“Yeah, perv,” Tatianna teases, ruffling his hair before curling up on the recliner closer to the TV.

“Can we please not talk about this again,” Eddie sighs, sinking further into the cushions. He presses on his eyes with the heels of his hands, “You do this every time you guys come back from a date.”

“We gotta get you on Hinge, or something,” Gareth says.

“Tinder at the very least,” Tatianna follows.

“Okay, I’m going to bed,” Eddie grunts when he gets up, a little dizzy at the speed before he finds his footing, “Don’t be too loud tonight.”

“Just trying to help!” Tati calls out, “You deserve to be too loud at night, too!”

Eddie sucks his teeth before he turns the corner to the hallway, disappearing for the night while his friends fell more in love. 

It feels like they’re disassembling a bomb. Eddie sulks in a seat at the kitchen table while Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Gareth chatter behind him. Jeff and his wife sit across from him with just as much excitement as the group opposite them. Eddie frowns, bangs too long over his eyes, hands sweating onto the back of his banged up stickered phone case.

“I think you should put the picture of the guitar last, it doesn’t have your face in it. I’d swipe past you,” Robin points at the screen in front of him while he tries to make sense of his Hinge profile. 

“Well you’re a whole lesbian Rob, so you’d swipe past me anyway,” Eddie’s clipped words make the group laugh instead of making them back off. His shoulders sink immediately. This was mortifying.

“She’s right though,” Steve pipes up, “They’ll think you’re some weirdo who's obsessed with his guitar if you — well, actually then maybe it’s fine…” 

“Why don’t you—” Jeff starts.

“You’re married and you’ve been with Alycia since 2014. Your opinions are void,” Eddie interrupts with a sigh. 

Jeff lets out a laugh from his broad smile, “Look, I’m just saying. Why don’t you focus on your answers to the questions rather than the pictures? Girls love stuff like that. You’re smart, you’re a good writer.” 

“Babe, they’re not gonna care about his answers if the first picture they see is of an out of focus guitar taken on an iPhone 4S,” Alycia cocks her head at Jeff, “Like, at least be honest with him.” 

“I know you’re squinting in that picture from Jeff’s wedding but maybe you can put that one first,” Nancy points to the screen and then scrolls down a little. It lands on a photo of Jeff and Eddie, both sweating from the night's activities. His dress shirt is unbuttoned half way down his chest, silver chains and tattoos on full display, tie tied around Jeff’s forehead like a makeshift Rambo. 

“Yeah, you look really good in it,” Robin agrees. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tati shuffles into the kitchen, “I got in touch with the photographer from the show two weeks ago at Wraith Bar and he’s sending me some pictures.” 

“You can use the six pictures you’re tagged in from the last three years,” Tatianna scolds, “You look like a bum in them.” 

The group frowns and tosses glances at each other, it’s true. The more recent pictures they had of Eddie were far and few between. He was either blinking or off to the side, blurry or ducking out of frame. Every picture where he looks like himself was either from a show or had Chrissy in it, and he deleted all of those three years ago.

“Stop, you look so fine in these,” Tatianna squeals, “The girls are gonna love you.” Everyone but Eddie huddles around Tatianna to scroll through the pictures. Some of him mid shred with sweat pouring down his chest. Some of him screaming into the mic, hair wild and wet around his face. There was one, that he begrudgingly really liked, where his head leaned back into the light with a winning Munson smile. It was when he heard the opening drums to cover ‘The Immigrant Song’ as a gag – but not really a gag ‘cause he loves that song. It gets everyone at the bar pretty excited – even if they only know the song from School of Rock. 

Eventually, Eddie isn’t even holding his phone, it’s being passed between Tati, Steve, and Robin while he dictates his answers to stupid questions. By the time his profile is finished, his head is hidden in his mass of curls, resting his forehead on his forearms at the table. 

“Are we done now?” he asks into the space between his face and the woodgrain. Despite the winter air flowing through the kitchen window, he’s overheated with embarrassment. There are suddenly too many people around, too much talking, too much giggling at his expense. He tilts his head back up and takes a full breath through his nose and out through his mouth – “Oh shit! You matched with someone!” “How? I didn’t even look at anyone yet,” Eddie’s brows furrow while his head slowly comes to center. “Don’t worry about it, dingus,” Robin chides, “Just talk to her.” Eddie takes the phone and looks at her profile. Rachel, 27, Vet tech. She’s pretty, soft eyes, great smile. He swallows thickly before he goes to his ‘Matches’ and types three letters that felt like they took ten years to write: Hey.

The chats start fast and die faster, some flirty banter here and there before he’s too nervous or quickly bored. His heart squeezes every time he gets a notification, a buzz in his pocket, a reminder of a message. Some girls don’t want a relationship and that’s fine, that’s just not what he’s looking for. Some girls ask the big questions first and he can’t answer right away. Some girls just aren’t his type and he isn’t theirs either. 

The first date he goes on ends with her excusing herself to the bathroom before they even get to order dinner. She doesn’t come back — he’s not even sure what he did. It started off fine, she was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. Fun and easy conversation, a voice that sounded like powder puffs and sugar scented perfume. If he blurred his vision a little, she could’ve been Chris. But she wasn’t Chris. 

Maybe that’s why she left. Maybe she got the vibe that he was preoccupied with her looking like his ex. 

Maybe it was because he said, ‘You remind me so much of my ex-wife,’ before they got to order dinner. 

His second date wasn’t much better. He was proud of himself for not going for another Chrissy look alike, but it was clear that this new girl was on a hunt for a husband. 

“So are you planning on getting the tattoos removed?” she had asked, pursing her red lips. He was surprised at how well her lipstick stayed on after eating a pasta dish. Whenever he wears makeup for a show, it smudges before the lights come up. 

“Uh, no why?” he asked.

“Just y’know, thinking ahead — family photos and whatever,” she shrugged. His mouth had never run so dry in his life. The chicken alfredo turned in his stomach. 

The third ended up being a quickie in the bar bathroom only for her to leave right after and unmatch him without as much as a ‘Thanks for a good night!’ He at least wanted to be a gentleman about it. 

The fourth fizzled out and neither of them felt the connection. 

The fifth felt weird because they had talked so much on the app that they didn’t have anything left to talk about when they went out for drinks. 

A month had gone by and all he had to show for it was five bad dates and dozens of unanswered chats. Eddie was found sitting in his bed in the dark, only the light on his phone keeping him illuminated while he thumbs through Instagram. Another app that he has for no reason, he never posts, he never shares anything. He just scrolls.

He wonders if Chrissy’s on Hinge. Eddie’s stomach lurches at the thought of coming across her profile. All blonde and blue eyes, all sweet and spunky, all the right answers to her curated questions. Photos of her in the Maldives, in her friend’s weddings, of her in Chicago after she moved. His heart hammers, sweat collects on his bare chest, heating up the chain lying flat against it until it sticks. He quickly swipes out of Instagram to his home screen, a photo of Robin and Steve flipping him off from the stage after a Corroded Show during load out. He holds his thumb on the app until all the apps shake, thumb hovering over the ‘x’ on the corner to delete the Hinge for good. 

What’s another three years of being single? 

“Ed?” he hears Tati on the other side of the door, her soft knock following her voice, “I got Indian and I’m not gonna eat it all. Gare doesn’t want it, you want it?” 

“Yeah, sure,” he hums. She opens the door and sighs at the darkness. He squints as the light pools in from the hallway and sees her lean her shoulder against the door frame.

“Are you in here sulking?” she asks, one brow raising.

“Yeah, Tat, I’m in here sulking,” he groans, laying flat on his mattress, “I like to sulk. Let me sulk.” 

“Don’t sulk,” she puts on a pout and flicks his light on, leaving the containers of rice and chicken saag. He groans when the light stings his eyes, tossing a forearm over his face. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice falling into kindergarten teacher territory. She never realized her profession would come so handy living with two grown men, “Why’re you being such a baby in here?” 

“I think I’m gonna delete the app,” he murmurs, still hiding under the protection of his tattooed arm. The pressure feels good on his face, releasing the tension starting to brew behind his eyes. He hadn’t eaten since his lunch period at work, the hunger was starting to catch up to him. 

“Don’t delete it,” she shakes her head, crawling onto the end of his bed. She takes her twists out of her jumbo claw clip and readjusts to pull them all back away from her face. Tati eases his phone out of his hand and slides her glasses on, flinging his dead arm off his face to use his Face ID. He whines, face scrunching is disapproval.

“I told you to stop doing that,” Eddie complains, sitting up against his pillows before crawling out of bed to get the food waiting on his dresser, “Do you have any naan or…?” 

“Do I look like a food bank, Munson? Damn,” she tilts her head and he raises his brows in a silent ‘Well, do you?’

She sighs deeply, “Yes, I have extra naan but you can only have it if you don’t delete the app and eat with us in the living room.” 

“Those are two totally different asks, Tati,” Eddie huffs. 

“I don’t make the rules,” she shrugs before starting to laugh, “Actually, I totally do.” 

The phone buzzes in her hand and Tatianna’s grin only widens when she sees the notification, “You have a new like.” 

“Whatever,” he shrugs, face laced with disappointment and frustration, “It’s gonna be another dud. Why bother if there’s no point? Like, this can’t actually be how people meet each other —“ 

Tatianna opens her mouth to protest but Eddie interrupts his own thought before she can speak, “You and Gareth are the anomaly.” 

“What if the sixth time’s a charm? She looks really cute,” She smiles, teeth bright against her smile, cheekbones glistening where her moisturized skin hits the light. 

He rolls his neck and sighs while Tatianna continues to encourage him, “Just try. You owe yourself that. Chrissy wouldn’t—.”

“Fuck Chrissy, Tat,” Eddie’s voice raises slightly, suddenly defensive. His chest burns at the sound of her name, heat rising up through his neck to his face,  “I don’t really give a fuck what Chrissy would and wouldn’t want. ‘Cause if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have to be on these stupid fucking apps.” 

“Whew, tell me how you really feel Ed,” she says while she stands up off the bed to walk towards him.

“Look, I get you’re still mad about how things went down with Chris. I know you’re still hurting, but you’re denying yourself a chance to start over — just shoot this girl a message. She seems cool,” Tati speaks so gently to him that he soothes instantly. She offers his phone, still open on the new profile — he’s hesitant at first but he takes it from her to look at the screen. 

There you are. You are cute. Your profile is simple: your name, age thirty, your opening tagline ‘idk i’m just out here i guess’. He lets a puff of air out of his nose at the sentiment — ‘Same,’ he thinks. 

“Fine,” he says finally, “I’ll look through her stuff and I’ll message her. Are you happy?” 

“Thrilled,” she smiles, “So thrilled that I’ll even let you have the extra samosa.” 

He follows her out of the room with his phone and food in hand, looking at her fondly when she passes him a tinfoil covered piece of naan in the kitchen, “You’re my best fucking friend, dude.” 

“I thought I was your best friend?” Gareth pouts from the kitchen table, D&D notes littered in front of him. 

Eddie scrunches his nose, tilting his head while he considers, “You’re alright I guess.” 

When the food is done and he’s gotten a proper look at your profile he decides to bite the bullet — fingers shaking while he matches back with you. He doesn’t start with ‘hey’ this time because Robin and Steve said that was boring, so he tries something new: 

wild that you’re just ‘out here’, me too. 

…

…

…

lol, twin behavior. how’s your night?

Eddie’s heart hammers at the response. He’s surprised at the reaction, he hadn’t had that with any of his other chats, normally expecting them to die off after the first ‘Hey, how are you?’ pleasantry. But maybe this could be different, maybe this could be fun. 

scored some indian food from one of my roommates so it’s one of my better nights. 

ooh, i’m so jealous. i have buyers remorse from some baked ziti i ordered. should’ve just made it.

what did you get?

chicken saag, still jealous?

i’m more of a saag paneer girl but consider me over here seething.

Eddie grins into the phone, cheeks hot while he thinks about what to say back. He skims over your profile again, eyes stilling at a photo of you laughing on what looks like a cruise deck. The sun hits you like a golden streak across your eyes. The caption reads ‘the last time i felt a single shred of genuine happiness’, he huffs an airy giggle before going back to the chat. 

you’re funny, did you know that?

um ya, i’m the funniest person i know, actually. 🥰

that's crazy cause i’m the funniest person i know. and since now i know you, it’s looking like we gotta battle for who the funniest is.

Jesus fucking Christ Munson, why can’t you just be normal? Why can you just say ‘lol’ and call it a night? He frets. His leg bounces while he waits for your reply, food rolling in his stomach. The cool metal of his rings is welcomed on his warm cheeks while he leans against his hand on the arm of the couch. The few minutes he waits for the buzz of his phone feel like eternities. But there you are to save him from his embarrassment:

lmao okay. where did you wanna battle?

there’s a bar in the city that i think could host. you around tomornight?

tommorow night* sorry, fuck, i was trying so hard to be smooth with it.

TOMORROW***** FUCK. LET ME LOG OFF FOR ETERNITY REAL QUICK.

yiiiiikes! embarrassing. but this proves you actually might be funnier than me. i’m not a sore loser so i’ll go on a date with you if that’s what you’re asking.

do you drink? it doesn’t have to be a bar.

i do! where did you have in mind?

there’s a spot called little spoon saloon in the city if you’re familiar. sorta cozy.

oh yeah sounds great for a battle 🙄

but yeah i know it, that’s not too far from my place. maybe we’ve seen each other before and never known it. two ships passing in the night~*

does seven work for you? i know it’s a monday, so we can do earlier if you gotta be up early or something.

sevens fine :)

okay :)

:)

:)

see ya tomorrow! Eddie bites his lower lip, breathing steadily through his nose while he sends over his number. Anything to get out of looking at the app for at least another day, anything to spare him from potentially running into Chrissy’s profile despite her being in a different state. It was getting close to the holidays, she could be around at any moment. 

Before he can spiral, his phone buzzes again – this time a text from an unknown number. His grin widens, too caught up in the excitement bubbling in his chest to feel Tatianna’s stare from the recliner. hi, it's me. jsyk if you don't reach out by like, two tomorrow -- i'm considering it a cancellation and i do have a 50% cancellation fee. sorry! 

50%? stop selling yourself so short, kid. but don’t worry, i won’t cancel. no? you’re not scared to battle? i’m never scared of a battle. :) (A lie.) see you tomorrow. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Tatianna smiles, cheeks tight from being unable to hide her excitement. “Are you talking to a girrrrrl?” Gareth teases. Eddie let’s out a ‘tssss’ while he stands up and stretches, quirking a brow at his best friend. “Is it a girl? You takin’ her out?” he asks again. “Yeah G, it’s your mom,” he shrugs, “Night y’all.” “Ed,” Tati whines, “Come on.” Pink floats across his cheeks, itching his nose to hide his goofy smile behind his hand. “Yeah, it’s a girl. And yeah, I’m taking her on a date tomorrow,” he groans. Tatianna squeals, shimmying with giddiness while the recliner rocks with her. Eddie’s too caught up in hiding his face, “Ugh, she’s cuuuute, Tati, what am I supposed to do?” 

“Show her what she’s been missing,” Tati shrugs, “Everyone needs an Eddie.” 

Last night, Eddie fell asleep caught in a memory that became a dream. He’s eight years old at the YMCA, Wayne sitting in the stands watching him – this is maybe two weeks after his dad dropped him off before he got sent to prison. Wayne wanted to make sure his schedule stayed the same as it could, so Saturday swim lessons it was – today was diving off the block. Eddie had been dreading this lesson for a month, knowing that level 2.5 meant you had to at least try. In level two, they had you stand on the block just to get used to it. He could barely breathe for the ten seconds it was up there, tears stinging his eyes while his teacher encouraged him to come closer to the edge. Three of his classmates had already asked if they were allowed to jump off. It looked fun but it was just so high up. What if it hurts? What if he landed the wrong way? He was up soon, standing behind the block with the rest of the kids, shivering from being out of the water. He could dive off the edge of the pool just fine – in fact, his teacher said he was a great diver, especially for an eight year old. So it should be no problem to dive off the block, he just had to do the same thing he always does. Just higher. 

Gareth, before Gareth was his best friend, climbs up the block and puts his feet at the edge of the white plastic and metal. His teacher, Miss Tiffany, tells him to put his arms up and bend his knees and to dive at the whistle. The whistle blows and Gareth leaps – but he doesn’t dive smoothly into the water. 

“BELLY FLOP!” Jason Carver yells from the edge of the pool where all the kids who already dove sat. They start teasing him relentlessly, Miss Tiffany helping him out of the water to inspect his red belly. Tears well up in Gareth’s eyes, his mom leaning over the bannister from the seating area. “Are you okay, baby?” she asks. Gareth burns red with embarrassment, only encouraging the cackling kids to get crueler. 

Miss Tiffany puffs her whistle three times, “If you tease again, you’re not allowed to go to free swim. Do you understand me?” 

The group quiets, slowly kicking their feet in the water. “Alright Eddie, you’re up next!” 

He gulps, climbing up on the block slowly before standing to full height with his eyes closed. He takes a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, like his Uncle Wayne taught him to do when he was feeling nervous. When Eddie’s eyes opened, a chill ran through his chest – for some reason the block seemed higher than ever. 

“Ready Freddie?” Miss Tiffany asked, treading water in her red bathing suit. She grinned up at him, knowing that the phrase always made him giggle – but not today. 

“Arms up, knees bent,” she continues. Ed looks down at the water and the room spins, he can hear Jason and the class giggling. Hear the splashes from the kicks of their feet. 

The whistle blows. He doesn’t move. The whistle blows, again. He puts his arms down. “You okay, Eddie? You can do it! You’re a great diver!” she cheers. 

Eddie chews on his lower lip, thinking about the smack of the water when it hit Gareth’s stomach. The laughter. The teasing. The potential of the pain. The whistle blows again. Eddie climbs down off the block, sniffling when he makes it back to the pool deck, “I don’t want to Miss Tiffany.”  

“C’mon Ed, I know you can do it! Do you want me to save you for last?” she asks, her smile still bright and encouraging. Eddie sniffles again, eyes burning with tears while Jason and his friends start to tease him, too. “Swimming sucks,” he bites, stomping towards the boys room, grabbing his ratty towel off one of the benches on the way in. He’s only in the locker room for a few minutes before he hears the door open and Wayne’s apologetic voice talking to Miss Tiffany from the deck floor.

“He’s just goin’ through a lot right now,” Wayne says, his gruff voice rattling off the metal of the room. 

“Eddie?” Tiffany’s voice calls. 

“Come out here, son,” Wayne calls, “Y’know, if your decent.”  

Eddie sniffles back his tears again, shuffling over to the door while Miss Tiffany waits with his Uncle.

“Do you maybe wanna stay a little late today and we can practice diving off the block when class is over?” she offers, “I know it can be scary to do it in front of your classmates, but I want you to pass to level three!” 

“No thanks Miss Tiffany,” he mumbles to the tiles on the floor. 

“That’s okay Eddie, maybe we can try again next week. How’s that sound? I know you can do it,” she says softly. 

“Okay,” he murmurs before turning on his heel and moping back into the locker room. Wayne was waiting by the check in desk when Eddie emerged after changing, his ratty towel slung off his shoulder. 

“You okay?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah, can we just go home?” 

“Sure kid, was gonna stop and get us some lunch if you wanted,” Wayne’s eyes crinkle with his smile, “Wanna go to McDonalds?” 

Eddie returns the smile half heartedly, “Yeah.”

They walk to Wayne’s pick-up hand in hand, despite some parents thinking he’s ‘too old’ to be doing that. He needed the support, and his uncle was never one to make him feel like he didn’t have it. 

“So d’you wanna try again next week? Your starting form was great, buddy,” Wayne asks while Eddie puts his seatbelt on. Eddie considers it. Getting to the edge of the block and making Jason Carver eat his own words. Making him look like a loser for a change. 

But the words ring in his ear ‘BELLY FLOP!’ The relentless teasing if he didn’t do it this week and then messed up next week. He’d be a baby and a joke. 

“I don’t wanna do swimming anymore, Uncle Wayne,” he huffs.

“You sure?” his uncle frowns, putting the car into gear, “You’re really good, Ed. Y’could be on the swim team.” 

“I don’t wanna come back. I quit,” he repeats. He crosses his arms while they pull out of the parking lot, watching the rest of the kids pool out of the doors with smiles on.

Eddie wakes up to his alarm blaring, back in his 32 year old body. He swears that the air of his bedroom smells like chlorine.

Eddie made sure to text you at 1:59 PM like an asshole. 

still on for tonight? :)

so close to having to pay my cancellation fee. 

but yes, still on for tonight :) 

sorry, work’s been wild today. would’ve texted you sooner!

you’re off the hook…

for now. 😡

He likes your little attitude, he decides. That little hint of sass in your messages keeps him on his toes and it’s not lost on him that this is probably how you flirt. He wonders, selfishly, how easy you are to fluster. You both exchange a few back and forths before he’s finishing up work for the day and heading to Wheeler’s for a campaign chat. 

The texts completely drop off while he gets ready to see you. He takes an extra long time in the shower, using the tiniest squeeze of Tati’s curl cream when he comes out because it makes his hair look good. He scrubs his face raw before shaving, following up with the skin care routine he kept up with, even though Chrissy curated it for him. 

Once dressed, he stepped quietly out to the living room to grab his jacket in the closet and pull out his boots. 

“You used my curl cream, I see,” Tatianna crosses her arms. He blushes. 

“Don’t be mad, I just wanna look good,” he puts on a faux pout, eyes rounding while he slides the leather over arms.

“You look really good,” she smiles, “It’s gonna be great.” 

Eddie shoves his socked feet in his Docs, worn in from years of wear, and looks up at her, “I’m kind of excited.” 

“You should be! I don’t know, I just have a really good feeling about this one,” she smirks, “Text me at some point, let me know how it goes.” 

“It’s a better indicator if he doesn’t text you, Tati,” Gareth says, coming up behind her, “You look sharp, dude.” 

“Sharp?” Eddie rolls his eyes, “What’re you? Eighty?” 

Tatianna clicks on her phone to look at the time, “Can you get the fuck outta here? You’re gonna be late!” 

“I’m going, I’m going!” he laughs, arms up while he grabs his keys from the hook by the door, “Wish me luck, bye!” 

Eddie felt sick. Suddenly feeling like he was standing at the edge of the pool in ‘98.

When he got his keys in the ignition of his Honda Civic, a text came through immediately. He swallowed tightly, in some way expecting it to be you. In some way, expecting you to be canceling on him. 

Instead, it was Tatianna in the big group chat: 

here, we made a playlist for you

Eddie clicks on the Spotify link and laughs. First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182

And so on. The music automatically connects, the opening guitar ripping through his speakers. Eddie quickly types up a response on his phone before pulling out into the street. 

very creative, edwards.

someone in this house has to be. ‘In the car, I just can't wait, to pick you up on our very first date. Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?’ He rolls his eyes as Mark and Tom serenade him in the car, laughing at the lyrics. It’d been a while since he’d listened to this album, let alone this song. While he won’t admit it to Gareth or his girlfriend, it was exactly what he needed before he got to the bar. 

‘Do you like my stupid hair? Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? I'm just scared of what you think, you make me nervous so I really can't eat.’ “Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over,” he sings along, fingers tapping on his steering wheel while he waits at a red light. He’s on the fourth replay of the song by the time he pulls up. The ignition cuts off the lyrics before the chorus, he takes a big breath before opening the door. Just a couple minutes past seven, but he told you he was running a little late, so you wouldn’t be mad. His phone buzzes to Robin, Steve, and Jeff reacting to the playlist Tati sent. Alicia, Jeff, and Nancy sent him sweet good luck messages. Robin and Steve sent them a picture from a bar they were at, flipping him off. ‘Break a leg, dingus,’ came in her follow up voice memo. Eddie considers making this new picture his phone background. 

He swallows hard when he gets to the door, his bottom lip getting pulled between his teeth in apprehension. He nods to himself, “You got this, Munson.”  Another deep breath, he’s still ten, he’s still afraid to dive off the diving block. What if it hurts? What if he belly flops? 

‘What if you don’t? What if you dive this time?’ He thinks to himself. He opens the door to the bar, his ten year old self puts one foot on the diving block. The chatter of a few conversations at once is disorienting, so is the low light of the bar in comparison to the neon outside. The man at the entrance asks for his ID and he awkwardly fumbles for his wallet as if it’s not obvious he’s been old enough to drink for eleven years. “Here, man,” he says, somehow nervous he’ll get caught with a fake like he’s nineteen again. The security’s light flashes over his birthdate and he passes it back with a short and gruff thank you. Eddie takes a few steps before checking his phone to remind him what you said you’d be wearing.

in a red cut off sweatshirt, jeans that look like dickies – hard to miss! white airforces! i’m here, looking for you if you can’t spot me just approach the most off putting girl at the bar, it’s probably me :) 

He smiles into the light of his phone. You’re are funny. His phone lights up again, another text bubble added to your previous one. Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest when he looks at it, knowing you’re really only moments away. got you a guinness cause that’s what you said you liked on your profile. it looks like battery acid tbh. there’s a couple seats by the end of the bar, i’ll grab them. He looks up from his phone finally to see a blur of red start maneuvering over to the end of the bar. That’s you. Oh shit, that’s you. Oh shit, you’re – fuck. You have a fat fucking ass in those jeans. He swallows again, shaking the horny thoughts out of his head through the tendrils of his hair. Another deep breath through the nose, out of the water to the diving block just to dive again. He walks the length of the bar and hears his name, your voice in real life – not through a voice note or on your profile. “Ed?” 

Eddie catches your eye and his heart sinks and leaps so quickly he thinks he’s going into cardiac arrest. You’re real pretty, even more so when you grin at him from a few feet away. You wave him over and he does his best to walk confidently towards you, taking his jacket off while he does. He doesn’t know it, but the other girls at the bar are looking. He’s all broad shoulders and dark tattoos, two silver chains and understated rings. Full lips and doe eyes. Tatianna never told a lie, he was unmistakably handsome – he just didn’t know what to do with it. You toss your hair when you speak to the bartender from the end of the bar with a bright smile. The man puts two drinks in front of you and you leave cash in their wake. Eddie winces when he sees you pay, but tries to ignore the sting. In a way, it feels like he’s already losing – like he’s playing Sims with Robin and he’s not on track to get a gold reward on date night. You’re hot and you know it, but he can tell it’s like you just found out. Your eyes are flirty no matter what you’re looking at, you’re full bodied and it’s like you know it’s making him salivate. Eddie can’t help but be nervous when he takes a seat next to you, fingers immediately drumming on the bar top in front of him. “Guinness for you,” you say, sliding the pint glass in front of him. “Thanks,” he smiles, “You didn’t have to do that. I asked you out, you’re not supposed to be paying for me.” 

“I know, but – why don’t you get the next one and we’ll call it even?” you offer. He nods while he takes a sip, eyeing the lighter orangey liquid in your glass. “Did you get a cider?” he teases. 

“It’s a grapefruit beer, thank you,” your brows furrow at him while you take a sip. You have a good face, part of him wants to say that but it seems like a weird compliment. ‘Nice face.’ Like, what does that even mean? His tongue feels heavy, he can feel the sweat building under his curly bangs. “Weaksauce,” he laughs, scrunching his nose, “Grapefruit beer? Not for me, toots.” 

“Yeah, because you drink battery acid!” you tease back, “You’re a stout snob, huh?”

“Nah, just never heard of grapefruit beer. I always drink Guinness – or like, Miller light. Never really stray,” he shrugs. 

“You wanna try mine?” you ask, sliding the glass to him. 

“You sure?” he watches you nod and brings the beer to his lips. It’s tart, a little bubbly, hitting his tongue on the off beat from the stout before. It settles and then it’s sweet, he wonders if you’re the same. Eddie smacks his lips, “I don’t hate it.” 

“That’s such a stout snob thing for you to say,” you pull a face, bringing your drink back to sit in front of you. “I’d offer you a sip of mine but I know you don’t like it,” he smiles, “Wouldn’t want to ruin the taste of your dessert beer.” “Fuck off,” you shake your head and smile, taking another sip of your drink. The Guinness in his hand makes him feel less nervous, but not all the way – toeing the line of the end of the diving block but not scared to look down into the water. He can tell you’re nervous too by the way you pick at a hangnail on your thumb absentmindedly, the way you cross and uncross your legs. Eddie’s eyes linger for a moment at the way they spill over each other, squishing flat on the seat of the stool when you keep them uncrossed. He tries to discreetly follow the line of your thighs to your hips, up to your waist before getting ahead of himself and pulling his eyes away. 

“How was your day?” you ask. Not the question he was expecting. “My day?” he asks, brows raised while he tries to recollect anything before getting ready to see you. “Uh, my day was good. Yours?” You fucking dumbass, you couldn’t just spare one detail? She’s gonna think you’re an asshole. “It was fine,” you answer quietly. Your smile fades a little and he feels a panicked chill rush in his chest. “S-sorry, I should’ve elaborated. I sound like such a dick, sorry,” Eddie feels the heat creeping up on his cheeks, a clamminess starting up at his hairline, “I um, I went to work. Came home, went to a friend’s house for a minute and we talked about a campaign we’re putting together next weekend. I had some dinner, and then I started getting ready to see you and um – uh, now I’m here.” “Campaign? Are you a politician or somethin’?” you quirk a brow while you look him over. He feels insecure under your gaze, he hopes you like his tattoos.  

“No, no, it’s for Dungeons and Dragons.” Saying it outloud makes him feel like a loser, even though you don’t react like you think so. 

“Cool,” you smile. 

“Do you like, even know what that is?” Defensive already, waiting for you to make fun of him. Waiting for this to end up another mistake. Waiting to belly flop. 

“Yeah, I know what it is,” you answer quietly again, this time your shoulders, “Have some friends that play.” 

“Oh, cool. Cool,” Eddie nods, chest tightening, toying with his rings while you reach for your drink, “Um, I’m — yeah, sorry if that came off like, dickish. I didn’t mean to—.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you shake your head when you say it, almost like it’s rehearsed. Like you’re always ‘okay’-ing something. 

“Sometimes people think it’s weird when I tell them, I dunno,” he shrugs, still looking down at his rings, “If I’m being honest I haven’t been so great at this whole dating thing.” 

You smile again and he looks up in time to see it, his breath hitches. You’re very pretty. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I learned how to play Magic the Gathering twice to impress a boy. Two different ones,” you grimace, scrunching your nose, “Gross right?” 

“Oof, that’s rough,” he jokes, “Magic the Gathering? That’s like, way worse than D&D.”

“Well the difference between you and me, is that I don’t still play,” you bite back, cocking your head while you take another drink. “Didn’t impress those boys after all, huh?” he raises a brow and your mouth falls open in faux offense. 

“You’re so mean,” you gasp.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Should’ve put that in my profile.” 

“Oh, so you are mean?” you grin. 

“The meanest,” he grins back, teeth straight and shiny. Full lips pulled tight against them, “How was your day?” “I worked,” you shrug, “Not as exciting.” 

“What do you do?” he asks, turning towards you on the stool, leaning one arm on the bar. He relaxes into the seat, legs spreading wide while his free hand runs nervously over his thigh.

“I’m a personal assistant to a jewelry maker,” you let out a half chuckle through your nose, “It sounds fake when I say it out loud. But basically, I just keep her schedule and run errands and keep her shit in order. She’s an older woman and she’s not the most tech savvy in the world — great at what she does though, really eccentric but I feel like you gotta be when you work in the arts like that.” 

“That’s cool,” he says softly, watching you talk, “What kind of jewelry does she make?” 

“Oh you’ll love this, since you like D&D and stuff,” you start, your excitement is infectious, his heart thrums, “She makes fine jewelry for the most part, but also makes anodized chain mail jewelry and wearable pieces for theater and ren fairs on the side. I told you, eccentric.” 

“Oh, so she’s a little alchemist, huh?” he smirks. 

“Kinda, yeah,” you shrug, heat hitting your cheeks while he keeps his gaze on you, “It’s cool to watch the first few times, and then you get bored.” 

“I’m sure it’s the same for people who watch my band,” he laughs. You shake your head, a curve pulling from the corners of your lips while you finish your beer. 

“Alchemist,” you repeat with a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re such a nerd.” 

“What do you do for work?” he notices you fully turn when you ask, your knees toward him. He remembers Steve telling him once that it was always a good sign when they do that. Like Steve knows anything about body language and dating these days, he’s been platonically attached to Robin for years. His little guard dog. 

“I’m a teacher,” he replies, knocking back the remainder of the Guinness in his glass.  

“Hm,” you hum, looking him over suspiciously, “That’s surprising.” 

“I work at a performing arts school,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s 2023, I’m allowed to have tattoos.” “What do you teach?” you squint when you look him over a second time, “Actually, let me guess – drama?” 

“Music theory,” he corrects. 

“Ooh, big brain,” you joke, “That’s cool.” 

“Big brain? I don’t know about that, I just like music,” he shrugs, “It makes sense to me.” “When I was in high school everyone always talked about how hard music theory was – like, all the band kids,” you explain, there’s a sparkle starting to glint in your eye when you talk to him. “You were hanging out with the band kids?” he tosses a sarcastic knowing look before taking his glass in his hands, “And I’m a nerd? I dunno girl, it’s not looking good for you here...” “Even worse, I was dating one,” you grimace back. “Fuuuuck, you were really fighting for your life in 2009 huh?” Eddie laughs low, lower lip tucking in between his teeth to run his tongue over it. 

“2007, 2008 all the way to like, 2016,” you hide your face in one hand and he wishes you wouldn’t. 

“Damn, that’s a long time,” he observes, “You didn’t marry that guy?” 

You lift your head back up, and shake your head, “It was on and off for a long time, he’s not a fan favorite. It’s uh – it’s why I normally don’t date musicians. I almost didn’t match with you ‘cause of your first picture.” 

Fucking Tatianna. 

“Eek, sorry,” Eddie puts his hands up, “Should I go?” “Do you play bass?” you wince.

“I play a lot of instruments,” he chuckles, “I can play the bass. But I’m not like…a bass player, if you know what I mean.” 

“Oh, I know what you mean,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, “Made that mistake more than once.” “What’s your favorite instrument that you play?” you ask, it’s almost girlish. He ponders it while you cross your legs, the toe of your shoe barely brushing the back of his calf but he knows it's there. You rest your chin on your fist while you watch him think about it. His brown eyes glint in the reflection of the light overhead, plush lips parted while he runs his hands over his stubble. “I think I’d have to say…electric guitar? I’ve been playing that the longest,” he hopes you think that’s cool. “Is it the same one that’s in your pictures?” 

“The Warlock?” he asks with a grin, “Yeah, that’s my girl. Best relationship of my life, prob’ly the only lady who talks more than me.” 

“It’s really nice. I like the color.” 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes darting to your knees where they sit between his, “Um, can I get you another drink? Do you want a beer or…?” 

“If I get a real drink will you stop making fun of my beer?” 

“I promise.” He slides off the stool, sad to see your close proximity to him fade away when he stands up. 

“They have food here, right? I’m sort of hungry, if that’s okay,” your voice gets sheepish when you ask. 

“Yeah, that’s okay. Did you eat dinner?” The words fall out of him too fondly. 

“I had like, a huge spinach salad,” you explain, “Might not have been enough.” 

Something tells him to press further before he buys you more liquor, lest this date go to the wayside too quickly, “Did you eat lunch?” 

“I worked through lunch.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” 

“I had a smoothie,” you confess. 

“Okay, so before I get you a drink, why don’t I get you some chicken fingers or something?” he insists. You’re shy in your smile back to him, nodding along at his advice. Yes, you should eat more before you keep drinking with him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s just trying to get you tipsy, he’s never been that kind of guy – even when he’d bring home girls from the bar. (They’d at least be the same level of totally obliterated as he was.)

He beams back at you when you nod, “Atta girl.” 

He doesn’t notice when your thighs clench. 

The last chicken finger is eaten, the last fry of the basket he got for you to split crunched through. The conversation had lulled, not because you weren’t interesting – the nerves were getting to him, creeping up like vines along his chest. The look over the diving block at the water, it’s slow waves teasing him to jump. 

“So um,” you began, swallowing your final fry and wiping your hands on a napkin, “Since you’re a teacher, how was school today?” 

Eddie’s so used to this question that his response doesn’t change, always the same quote from the same movie. Forgetting he doesn’t know you like that, his mouth moves quicker than his desire to play things off cool.

“The worst day of my life, what do you think? Gosh!” Eddie sounds more like John Heder in 2004 than John Heder does now – but when he hears himself say it, he’s immediately embarrassed. Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, nervous you won’t understand but instead – you laugh. And what a sound that is for him to hear. 

“Oh, shit. I haven’t watched Napoleon Dynamite in years. Like, not since grade school.” Eddie laughs with you, “Sorry, sorry, that’s like my go-to reaction at home when my roommates ask me that. I should’ve said something more normal like, ‘It was fine. The kids can’t stop trying to take TikTok fancams of me.”

“Roommates? Fancams? You’re so hip, tell me more,” you enthuse. He puts a finger up to stop you at first, locking eyes with the bartender so he can finally order another round of drinks. 

“What kind of real drink do you want?” he asks. 

“Just a marg on the rocks, salt,” you shrug. 

“Psh, I said a real drink,” Eddie teases with a roll of the eyes, but they soften when you go to argue back, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” 

His toes inch towards the middle of the diving block.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he flirts. Eddie can see the heat hit your cheeks, the creep of a smile slowly curving upwards, you’re embarrassed. Nervous like he is. Maybe this is going just fine. 

When the drinks arrive he slides the margarita towards you and sips his own Jack and Coke slowly through the tiny bar straw. 

“Okay, so. I have two roommates. Gareth, who’s been my best friend since I was nine; and Tatianna who has been my best friend since I was twenty-nine,” he explains. 

“So why aren’t you dating Tatianna?” you challenge. You miss the straw when you reach for it with your mouth, it slides over to the other side of the cup. You try again and miss, cheeks burning while Eddie looks at you continue to fuck up. His eyes glint mischievously while you hold in your frustrated laughter, “Stop looking at me.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll wait while you get your life figured out over there,” he jokes, checking ‘the time’ on his wrist, “Shouldn’t be too long until you finally get it.” 

“You’re so annoying,” you grit out playfully while you capture the straw between your teeth, “Should’ve put that on your profile, too.”

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m not dating Tatianna because Gare’s going to propose to her when they go on vacation in a few weeks.”

 “Oh! Yeah, that makes sense,” you nod, “Probably not a good idea to date your best friend’s almost wife.” 

“Yeah, definitely not well advised,” he shakes his head, pulling his hair up off of his neck for a minute before dropping it down, “Plus, her last name is Edwards and I dunno…don’t think I could live with myself if I was ‘Eddie Edwards’.”

You laugh again and he hoped you would. It’s a goofy laugh, you don’t try to sound cute when you do it. He knows you must be a loud laugher, if your small ones are any preview to what you could really do. You don’t sound like Chrissy. Her laugh was dainty, feathery. Like how they teach you to giggle in an etiquette class – all soft edges, all smooth lines. 

“You wanna take the girl’s last name?” you raise your brows, “Very forward thinking. Progressive.” 

“I don’t know, something about it’s kinda hot right?” he asks cock of his head, “Plus, my dad sucks so I don’t want to keep repping him by having his last name.” 

“Oh wow, my dad sucks, too,” you reply cheerily, “We have so much in common!” 

“What was it you said before? ‘Twin behavior’?” 

“Twin behavior, yes!” your hands meet both of his knees where he sits across from you, your tone is light and earnest, “You get me.”

Eddie takes in a hitch of breath, desperate to keep his cool when he feels your hands on him. It’s not even sexy but he could shoot straight to the moon if you asked him to. You use his knees as leverage to hop down from your stool, grabbing your drink before nudging him with your hip. 

“If we’re still battling though, there’s an air hockey table in the back room if you wanna play,” you offer. 

“Are you any good?” he wonders, hopping off the stool to follow you to the back. 

“I’m amazing,” you grin, “Actually won seventeen first place trophies in the intergalactic air hockey competition – of course I’m fucking bad at it, that’s why it’s fun to play.” 

Eddie laughs this time, it’s gruff and nicotine soaked. You’re already winning the battle for funniest person – you’re sharp with him and he’s starting to like it. He runs his hand over the side of the air hockey table in the empty back room, more and more pleased that he put this date together on a Monday. He slides a dollar into the machine so it whirs to life, the neon lights flicking on with a stutter. 

“This reminds me of birthday parties when I was a kid,” you muse to yourself, reaching for the hockey disc trapped in your goal, “Can you help me?” 

He nods, hand grazing your back to get you out of the way – you’re warm to the touch. If he was a braver man he would’ve pulled you into him but he’s not, instead squatting down to reach further into the goal where your game piece was. 

“Hm,” he murmurs, reaching further back and barely touching the top of it, “It’s in here, it’s just back there. I can get it, just –” he sucks his teeth like he did the night before, getting to his knees to try. Music plays over head, stuff the new crop of bar goers would consider oldies. You smile at the opening ‘Damn, shawty snappin’...’ of T-Pain’s ‘Buy U A Drank’, but even more surprised when you hear Eddie sing along softly to himself. 

“Snap ya fingers, do yuh step, you can do it all by yourself. Babygirl, what’s your name?” “Not you knowing the lyrics,” you laugh. 

“I was in highschool in 2007 of course, I know the lyrics,” he huffs, standing up, “I think it’s a bust for air hockey.” 

“That’s fine,” you shrug, “We tried.” 

“I know the club, close at three,” he lip syncs to himself before, turning his attention to you, “What’s the chances of you rollin’ with me?” 

You back and forth to each other in time with the lyrics before settling back down in your spot at bar. 

“You even know the Yung Joc part? Damn,” you laugh again, he loves it. 

“Why’re you so surprised? Is it the tattoos?” he asks. 

“Well yeah, you definitely give off a ‘loved Avenged Sevenfold’ in high school vibe,” you scooch your stool closer to his, your knees slotting between his open ones like a perfect puzzle. It’s not enough though, and he’s not sure if it’s himself or the Jack and Coke that encourages him, but he reaches for one of the legs of your stool to pull you closer. 

“Hey,” he says, your faces only a few inches apart. 

“Hey,” you respond. You catch his eyes flick briefly to your lips before they meet yours again. You can see the light smatter of freckles over his nose, long faded from the summer. 

“You’re right, I was really into Avenged Sevenfold when I was in highschool.” 

“I figured. I was into that whole scene thing, back then. All those singers that are mad at their dad’s and like, in retrospect, all hate women I guess,” you realize it as you speak. 

“I probably would’ve thought you were cute,” he guesses. 

“No, you would’ve called me a poser,” you correct, “Don’t lie.” 

He hesitates before nodding, “No, no, you’re right I definitely would’ve called you a poser. Did you like Fall Out Boy and all of that shit?” 

“Don’t shit on the music I liked,” you frown, “That’s not cool.” 

“I’m not, I’m not,” he assures, pulse speeding, “I promise, I’m not. I’m sorry.” You continue talking about music, high school, college, some ins and outs. Nothing too serious. Nothing too intense. But by now, Eddie’s feeling nice and if one thing’s for certain:

He wants to fucking kiss you. Toes at the edge of the diving block, Miss Tiffany’s whistle caught between her teeth. 

“So now that we’re three drinks in, can I ask you a personal question?” you ask, your eyes a little glassy. You’ve confessed that you’re tipsy, but aware, that if you have one more drink you won’t be – so Eddie already paid the tab. 

“What do you wanna know?” he asks.

“Why’re you,” you enunciate, implying he’s something, “On the apps? It’s hard to believe that someone like you would be single. Unless you have like, something deeply wrong with you, but you’ve been all green flags so far.” 

Your hand falls back to his knee and he eyes it before sliding his own hand down his thigh to lace your fingers with his. 

“You want the real story?” he asks, lifting your hand up of his knee to play with your fingers in both of his hands while he talks. His hands are warm and calloused on the fingertips, but the rest are soft. Lacing and unlacing, running his thumb up the lengths of your fingers, tracing your palm. 

“The real story.” 

“You gonna tell me why you’re on the apps after?” 

“Sure,” you nod. You look gentle, at ease. He eases in, too. 

“I got divorced in 2020,” he confesses. It feels like a weight off his chest to tell you, “Married my high school sweetheart, things were great for a long time, but y’know. People grow and – the pandemic was not kind to us.”

“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer softly. 

“It’s okay,” he smiles tightly. “I guess I was both surprised and not surprised at all when she broke up with me. Almost relieved, I guess – that I didn’t have to play the part of her husband anymore. Not that she was a bad wife or anything, she was great she just – I don’t know,” he rambles, “And I don’t know, I just threw myself into work and my friends after. Girls after shows. Was too scared to like – go on dates incase it ended up like my marriage and –” 

He laughs, “My friends were tired of seeing me be so sad, I guess.” 

“You have such a solid support system,” you comment, “You mention your friends, like, every other sentence.” 

A beat. “I like that,” you nod and smile. He can’t get over how you look when you do that. 

“Why’re you on the apps?” he asks, your hand now cradled between the two of his, his fingers grazing your wrist. 

“I’m six months out of a six year long relationship,” you let out a breath through your nose and drop your shoulders a little, “Figured it was time to get back out there – enter my slut era.” 

“Oh yeah, you’re super slutty,” he teases, “That’s actually the first thing I thought when I saw you. ‘She’s in her slut era.’” “God, fuck offfff,” you giggle again. 

“But yeah, I ended it. I figure I should make that clear,” you say, “Just in case that’s like, a red flag for you. But I don’t know, we just weren’t growing in the same directions. Things felt done way before I left and I – I don’t know. I think I was just scared. I took some time for myself and now, here I am.” 

“It’s okay that you ended your relationship, it’s not a red flag,” Eddie’s voice soothes you when he says it, “If you told me you like, cheated on him and then hit him with your car then maybe yeah, I’d be a little concerned. But you’re an adult, you just know what you want better this time around.”

“Yeah,” you agree. Your eyes meet in a silent confirmation. His eyes flick to your lips for a second time before tucking his lower lip between his teeth again. 

BELLY FLOP! 

“You wanna head out? It’s getting a little late,” he offers. 

Your brows raise in surprise, “Uh, sure, yeah.” 

“Not that I don’t like spending time with you,” he assures, letting his fingers linger over your hand while he stands up, not wanting to lose contact just yet, “Just don’t want to keep you out too late.” 

“Oh yes!” you start with an old southern twang, “My daddy’ll be out there with his pistol if I don’t get home ‘fore sundown.”

“You’re funny,” he laughs, letting go over your hand to reach up and squeeze your cheeks affectionately. You both put on your jackets and head outside, both of you wincing in the cold of the winter air. 

“I’d really like to do this again, if you want,” a shy blush reaches his cheeks, meeting the pink from the cold. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you’re just as shy in your response, “This was fun. You’re fun.” 

“Thank you,” he flushes deeper, trying to prolong the inevitable. What if he belly flops? What if it hurts? What if the kids make fun of him? 

“I’d offer to drive you home but I’ve had a few,” he says, hand reaching out to fall on your shoulder, “I feel good to drive but like, god forbid anything happens so – I’m happy to get you a car or pay for it for you.” 

“That’s really sweet, thanks. Let me just um,” you pull out your phone to get in Uber with a speed that impresses him, “It’s really not that pricey, I’m close-ish by.” 

“Still,” he says, “Just wanna be a gentleman y’know?” 

“You’re very gentlemanly,” you flirt. Eddie stiffens, nervous, palms clammy. 

“So um, I’ll see you soon?” he asks, opening his arms to give you a hug. 

“Yeah, for sure,” you nod while you let him engulf you. His scent is warm and spicy, mixed with tobacco. You guess either still smokes, or he used to, but he never got up to have a cigarette in the hours you were at the bar. Eddie let’s go and cups your cheek briefly before giving you a gentle but winning smile. His warm brown eyes linger for the last time on your lips, now they’re slightly parted, waiting for him. His toes curl over the edge of the diving block, his knees are bent, arms up over his head...I don’t want to Miss Tiffany. 

Swimming sucks.

“See ya.” 

You quirk your brow for a moment, having expected much more than a hug, “Oh, um…see ya.” 

He walks half way down the street to his car, heart thrumming in his chest in embarrassment. He should’ve just done it. FUCK. He should’ve just kissed you. 

But what if it hurts? What if she leaves? What if you can’t make it to level three? What if they laugh at you? 

He breathes heavily through his nose while tears threaten to well up in his eyes, staining his eyelashes. What if you don’t want to see him again after this? What if you change your mind? He sighs audibly when he turns the key, phone auto connecting to the speakers. He turns up the radio while the car revs to life, pulling on his seatbelt and putting the wheels into gear. He leans back in his seat to pull out of his spot only to see you still waiting for the car outside of the bar. 

Blink-182 blares through his speakers, hitting him straight in the chest.

‘Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over. Honest, let’s make,this night last forever. Forever. And ever. Let’s make this last forever.’ 

What if he did stay a little later after class? What if he got the chance to move on to level three? 

Fuck it, he thinks. He turns off the ignition, shaking out the sounds of Jason Carver and the kids laughing, the sounds of their feet kicking in the water. Just Miss Tiffany and her whistle. He gets out of the car, determined. You’re still there, head whipping around to see him coming towards you while you bounce on the balls of your feet in the cold. 

Arms up. Knees bent. “Ed? My car’s gonna be here in a sec–” Whistle. His hands reach out to your cold cheeks to pull you in before his full lips capture yours. His eyes flutter close at the contact, feeling your mouth react to his in time. Soft and needy, hydrated. You immediately know how to keep his pace while he separates and goes back in for more. Wet but not messy, passionate but not feverish. The smoothest dive he’d ever done in his life. Your hands escape your pockets, fingers sliding behind his neck to pull him closer, sliding through the nape of his hair. He breaks away for a moment to delicately push your hair out of your face and really look at you before pressing his lips to yours again. You only stop when your Uber beeps from across the street. 

“I wanted to do that all night,” he mumbles sheepishly. 

“I wanted you to do that all night, too,” you giggle, breathless and blushing, “Thank you.” 

“Thank you,” he says, running a hand over his face, “Let me know when you get home, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, hurrying across the street as the car honks again,  “Bye!” 

“I’ll put something together for next time!” he calls out. ‘Cause there will be a next time. 

Tatianna is leaning over the back of the couch with her chin in her hands when Eddie opens the door. Her cheshire cat grin matches his own. 

“So I didn’t hear from you all night,” she starts, her voice syrupy smooth, “So that means it must’ve went really well.” 

Eddie sighs dreamily, kicking off his boots at the entryway and hanging his jacket on one of the hooks by the door. 

“Ooh, you like herrrr! I can tell! Look at your stupid face!” she laughs, pointing at him, bouncing on the cushions. 

“Tati she’s…fuck,” he shakes his head in disbelief while he walks towards her, “There’s either two ways this could go.” 

“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at him, “And those are?” 

“I’m gonna marry her, or she’s gonna absolutely fuckin’ ruin my life.” 

“I like her already,” Tati grins, “Sit down, tell me everything.” 

“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec,” he grumbles, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He plops down onto the couch while Tati grabs two cups of tea from the kitchen that she made especially for the recap of his night. Gareth had been long asleep for an early morning at work tomorrow. 

Eddie takes out his phone, two unread text alerts lingering on his home page. He opens them, smiling stupidly into the screen.

i’m home :) you’re a really good kisser by the way. 

glad you made it home safe. you are too. :) but you started off pretty kissable so, that’s probably why. you’re making me blush over here, stop it. 

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle through his nose, clicking out of your text conversation to go back to his home screen. 

He deletes the apps.

[diamond-champagne]

Point of View

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

In which sometimes you need someone else's POV

Part II

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours

Paige is struggling

She’s tired from the lack of sleep, sore from practice, and stressed from school. Paige isn’t necessarily sure when she started to feel like everything was too much but everyday she feels herself giving way to the pressure and expectations that she and others place on her. 

The blonde isn’t sure when it all got to be so hard. It wasn’t always this difficult but somewhere between studying on planes and not getting enough sleep something in her had snapped. 

It was like those huge buckets at the waterpark that slowly filled with water and on a set interval turned to drench all the little ones with water. Except there was nothing playful or even exciting about how Paige was feeling. She was simply just waiting to tilt over; to let it all out. And when everything became too much and she spilled over, Paige would adjust herself and keep it moving because she doesn’t have time to dwell in it; whatever it is. Not when there’s workouts to be had, homework to do, and events to attend. 

So, Paige pushed through despite how much she didn’t want to. She pushed through practice, studying, and she’s pushing through the group outing at Ted’s. The blonde doesn’t want to go but she doesn’t want to miss out on what could possibly be her favorite moments with her favorite people. The basketball player also doesn’t want anyone to think less of her or know she’s anything less than 100 percent. 

It takes damn near all of her energy but she manages. Cue fake laughter here and a small joke there. Insert a smirk there and faux interest here. Every movement planned and placated specifically to not raise any eyebrows. 

But then Azzi arrives and suddenly Paige isn’t acting anymore because her laugh is real and the banter is effortless. Her smirk is natural and she hangs onto every word that Azzi says because she wants to memorize her voice for years to come. Slowly but surely the dark cloud that has been a permanent fixture over Paige has evaporated and the body that used to lag with exhaustion is now buzzing with energy.

The best friends have only been engaging in conversation for a few minutes but Paige swears that Azzi has been fighting off the looming darkness for a lifetime. 

You got more than 20-20, babe

Made of glass the way you see through me

You know me better than I do

Can't seem to keep nothing from you

Maybe Azzi has been fighting off the dark cloud that seems to follow Paige. It seems to be the case when she shows up at the older girl’s apartment one day to demand answers. 

Paige doesn’t immediately give in though, wanting to not bother her best friend with her own battles. Her not being able to swim does not mean Azzi is to drown.

“What are you talking about?” Paige asks. The blonde thinks she might have gotten too good at lying because the way her voice goes up a pitch and her head cocks to the side is so natural to her, she almost believes that she doesn’t know what Azzis is really asking her. Almost.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bueckers.” Azzi growls. The use of her last name makes Paige flinch and that makes Azzi soften. The curly-haired girl is simply tugging on the tether that keeps them connected and afloat. The last thing she wants to do is push them further away. So despite the frustration that flows through her veins, she takes a deep breath before reaching for her favorite blonde-haired girl. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Azzi whispers in Paige's ear as she engulfs her in a hug. Her tone is soft like she’s trying not to scare her blue-eyed girl away. It is accompanied by a soft hand that runs from the base of her neck to the end of her back. 

Paige doesn’t know what exactly causes her to break like a cheap rubber band but suddenly she wipes one tear. And another. And another until there’s too many and her body is shaking. 

She guesses that despite not wanting her team to know, she wishes that someone did; that someone cared enough to see when she wasn’t okay.

Azzi knew. Of course she did.

How you touch my soul from the outside?

Permeate my ego and my pride

“Babe, tell me what’s wrong.” Azzi gently demands of her best friend. The words acted as a key for a lock that Paige didn’t know existed because suddenly she can’t stop talking. 

She’s going on and on about her classes and then work and the team. How everything is too much. How it’s all pulling her in different directions. How she feels the need to be everything to everyone and nothing to herself. Is she allowed to not want everything she’s worked so hard for? Is she allowed to breathe?

When she’s done, the boulder that has situated itself on Paige’s chest is gone but it’s pain is still prevalent. Her vision is blurry and spotty. Her voice feels so far away as if she’s not in her own body. Her ears are hot and her heartbeat is loudly beating through them. 

Paige is spiraling but well maybe not. 

Because soon, Azzi’s voice is in her ear telling her to match her breathing and Paige feels a cold hand over her heart before those same hands are pulling her closer.

“Babe, why didn’t you tell me?” The question rings on the blonde’s ears but she can’t answer because Azzi has tears running down her face and the sight is devastating to Paige. 

“Don’t cry” the blonde whispers as she reaches to wipe the stray tears from her Azzi’s face. The action causes the younger girl to chuckle because how is it that the most caring person she knows is experiencing so much pain.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to be a burden. I also didn’t want the team to think I wasn’t 100 percent. It’s been tough since my injury and the last thing I need is for people to doubt me again because I can’t handle a little pressure.”

“Look at me.” Azzi commands. She waits until her favorite pair of blue eyes meet hers before continuing. “You could never be a burden, P. No one worth listening to would ever doubt you for your internal struggles. It’s shitty, yes but this does not define who you are.”

Paige nods a little before leaning in to hug her best friend once more before settling herself on Azzi’s chest.

“You don’t have to be 100 percent to be loved, Paige. I love you through it all.”

“I love you too”

[maeumi-jng]

hiii!! i love ur writing it’s absolutely adorable 🥹🫶 i was wondering if you could write something about riki & reader and maybe the reader is just a little older than him like a few months to a year? and they are very adamant on giving him his space especially since he has dealt with… so much from older fans. but riki rlly likes the reader and he’s frustrated because he doesn’t want her to think of him like a kid maybe 🤔 but reader likes him back she is just scared bc she feels like what if she makes him uncomfortable? but then it has a happy ending because they talk it out & jungwon helps them 😭🫶 totally understand if u don’t want to take this request! even if u don’t, it’s alright i love ur writing sm

kiss her you fool

pairing: idol!riki nishimura x idol!fem!reader, childhood bsf!yang jungwon x reader

synopsis: riki likes you. you like him. if the maths is right, you should be together. but riki left one variable unaccounted for. or in which riki must get to the bottom of why you are withholding your feelings for him if it's the last thing he does

warnings: reader is a year older, ANGST, mention of c-19, DISGUSTING OLD CREEPY FANS, mentions of sexual harassment, insecurity, problems of young debuting and discrimination, and crying, jealousy, swearing, appearance of riize's anton, riki being an absolute menace but a communication king 😤, romantic confessions, cringe but fluffy, proof-read before dinner soooo ☺️

word count: 2k+ library: enhypen bookshelf

author’s note: it's my first request 😭 i got youuuuuuu. i didn't mean for this to get so um well sappy and sad, got a bit carried away with the 'older fans' thing, but thank you so much for requesting! i hope this is up to par ♡︎ // song rec is titular but not really incorporated

You had made a mistake.

A very big mistake.

Liking Riki Nishimura.

How exactly that happened... well almost four years ago now, in 2020.

The practical shut down of all things physical in the industry. No concerts, no fan meetings, no live performances, restricted filming... the entire world had gone quiet.

Yet, as humans had done since the dawn of time, there was adaptation. Online concerts that were pre-recorded and emphasised stage performances, masked filming with very few staff, well.. masked everything...

And in the midst of all of this, was I-LAND. The survival show that would form a new boy group. The same show that your childhood best friend, Yang Jungwon, was participating in. As his friend, former label mate, and a representative of BigHit, you were very enthusiastic, promoting the show when you could on your lives and consistently voting for him, producing the theme song, even coming on the last episode with your seniors.

Jungwon did it. He got first place. With almost 1.5 million votes. To withhold all your tears that day was a heavy task. You didn't want anyone to think that the votes had been manipulated due to your influence so you had kept a bit quiet about your relation to Jungwon. But you were just so proud.

People eventually found out soon though. Months before ENHYPEN was to debut with the claims that it just made sense that you two were childhood friends.

Along with him came six other people that you would soon make lifelong friends with, Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki. You debuted quite early and despite being the youngest leader ever to debut and the maknae, friends were hard to come by (surprise surprise). So you welcomed these with open arms. Any friend of Jungwon was going to be a friend of yours.

You cherished all the members in their own ways but you couldn't lie and say Riki wasn't special to you. He reminded you of yourself. So young yet so passionate. Furthermore, he was Japanese. Living in a foreign country by yourself at such at such as young age... it had to be tough.

So in a way, you took him in. By that you meant your mother had basically accepted him as her son and you took care of him as if you were his older sister. You helped him with his Korean, your mother invested into learning Japanese cuisine so he didn't feel too homesick, always sending you with tiffins of food to the company or to the dorm, you stayed by him during the tough times... you made sure that he never felt alone, even for a second. You promised him.

The thing about debuting so young was that it often attracted the wrong type of people. You had gone through it and were still going through it despite turning twenty soon. Older fans... they seemed to love you. Especially, older men. From shouting your name loudly and asking for cute poses at fan signs to genuinely asking to marry you and specifically positioning their cameras at a certain angle to capture under your skirt... It was beyond you.

And Riki was going through the same thing, primarily with older women. Asking to marry him, seeing him shirtless, inappropriate fan fiction... the list of crazy was endless.

But your group and especially ENHYPEN wasn't having any of it. You all tried to the best of your ability to protect Riki but it just never seemed to stop. There were just so many weird people out there. It was infuriating.

You stuck to your promise. You made sure Riki felt safe and you could tell it was working. He was always honest with you, at his most vulnerable. He could share anything with you and he'd feel comfortable. You were the one person closest to him, there was no doubt about it.

But then you had to fuck it up. You got feelings.

You didn't realise it at first. But by the end of last year, you were sure. The long hugs, the stares that lasted a second more than they should've, Riki's abrupt clinginess... all of the mundane things were suddenly making you flustered and open the opportunity to having arrhythmia with all your fluctuating heartbeats.

You weren't sure what to do. It terrified you. How were you any different from the older fans? Well, of course there was a difference. But that year difference between the both of you... it was imposing.

So you did the only thing that made any sense to you. You gave him space.

You thought the space you were giving wasn't too obvious. You just wanted Riki to feel lighter and free.

But he noticed.

Immediately.

Riki noticed your wide smiles were now brief, the fewer texts you shared, the pathetic excuses you made to not hang out as much, the way you never sat with him to eat your mom's food... that the space you gave him was also physical given that you no longer sat right next to him but opted to sit diagonal to him (that way you weren't invading him too much).

Riki wasn't the type to beat around the bush. He directly confronted you. A trait that came naturally to him but was only furthered by the ever so direct Jungwon.

When you told him that you just wanted to give him a bit of space, given that he was older now and the whole plight of dealing with his 'fans'... Riki was in turmoil.

On one hand, an ever small part of him was touched that you cared so much. Not that was a surprise. You had the biggest heart he had ever seen.

But for the most part, he was frustrated. See, the thing was... he liked you too. A lot. Maybe too much for a normal human. It wasn't that you took care of him like a sister (if anything that combination would've made him throw up), but it was just you.

You entirely made him like you. Before he debuted, Riki was a big fan of you. He admired your work and passion, especially for as someone as young as you. Not to mention, he's pretty sure that you're the prettiest person in the entire universe. Never did he think he'd actually meet you. But then you visited I-LAND, twice. Once for the theme song and second for the last episode. And Riki was in awe of you. He couldn't believe it!

But that was nothing in comparison to finding out that he was debuting with ENHYPEN, a group that so happened to have Jungwon, your childhood best friend, and would often meet you to have their songs produced and composed.

And then you took him in.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. Heck, he could never forget it even if he tried.

You found Riki head down, crying alone in the dance practice room and you were immediately by his side. He was having an internal crisis.

It had been a few months since he had debuted and everything was going so well. ENHYPEN was popular. But his Korean was barely up to par, he couldn't keep up with everything that was going on, it was fuzzy in his head, people were commenting on his ethnicity and his looks in ways that discriminated him, he missed authentic Japanese food, he missed his annoying sisters, he missed his dad, his mom... he missed home. God, in that moment, he just wanted to go home.

You sat next to him, listening to all his worries quietly. By the time he was finished, he looked up at you with puffy red eyes that made your heart ache and apologised for burdening you with his problems.

He actually apologised.

For a moment, you were speechless.

So being an experienced person (well a year by age and a few more by career), you did what anyone else would do. Well, you hoped.

You wiped the remaining tears off of his face with your thumb and held his hands with yours. You looked him directly in the eye and told him, "You having nothing to be sorry about, Riki-ah. This... this is all normal to feel. To some extent, I know how you feel. I promise you that you'll get through this. I'll be by your side the entire time, hmm? I'm won't leave you alone. I promise."

With that, you brought him into a hug that he reciprocated. And this was the very moment Riki began to have feelings for you. After all of that and with everything you had done for him, how could he not like you?

Riki's frustration was beginning to peak. Ever since you told him you were giving him space, he had decided to the complete opposite. He was going to be up in your business 24 fucking 7 (if he could).

If you were going to sit away him, Riki would make his hyungs move so he could sit right next to you.

You were too far from him? He'd drag your chair close to him.

Your poor text response rate? Unannounced, Riki would walk into the room, rest his head on your lap, and scroll through TikTok, showing you all the videos he found funny.

But he needed to up his game. They say that flirting is a mastery of sort. It takes time, skill, finesse, if you will. Riki, however, is a fast learner.

"Cute hoodie, noona. But you'd look better in mine."

Backstage, you found him waiting outside your dressing room, on his phone. You sighed, shaking your head. "You're a living nightmare, Riki. You know that?"

Riki looked up from his phone, a smirk tugging away at his lips. His eyes grinned at you with their hanging lids. "So you do dream about me? That's nice to know."

When you gave him your most miffed expression, a soft laugh fell from his lips. "You look so cute when you're mad, noona."

The other time you were at HYBE cafeteria. You had finally given into your stomach's needs after slugging away for hours at a song. You spotted a nice yellow iced cupcake... it was calling your name. Just as you went to pick it up, Riki's hand intervened. His fingers brushed against yours, making you immediately retract your fingers. "R-Riki... yah, I was going to get that."

"I know," Riki said, amused by your flustered expression. "I'm going to get it for you."

Then came RIIZE's Anton. An idol who happened to be the same age, also produced music, also spoke English, had the most softest voice known to mankind, devilishly handsome, tall without stupid vitamins... and happened to be shipped heavily with you by everyone and their mother.

Also known as: Riki's worst enemy.

You were both coming out of the studio when Riki had caught the both of you on the way. From how he saw things, he didn't like it one bit. He didn't like the eye-smile Anton had when he looked at you nor did he like the smile you had at the poor joke he had cracked.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Riki stopped in front of you, interrupting your conversation. "Oh, hey, noona."

"Hmm? Oh, hey, Riki. Anton, this is–"

Completely ignoring the Boston-born but moved to New Jersey whatever-the-fuck guy, Riki just smiled at you. "Noona, you look so pretty today. What's the occasion? Me?"

You went home and screamed in your pillow that day (and apologised profusely to Anton (he said it was okay because anyone with a single brain cell could tell you and Riki were close)).

You had had enough.

The next day you had stomped into the dance practice room with Riki and Jungwon following after you because you had met them just as you were entering. Closing the door, you turned to your childhood friend who was placing his bag down.

With one hand pointing to Riki, "Tell him to stop it."

Jungwon raised a brow, looking at you incredulously. "Stop... what exactly?"

"I– stop... stop this," You stressed when Riki shuffled closer to you.

Jungwon looked at you helplessly. He knew how you felt. But he also know how Riki felt. In fact, he was the one who suggested him to be more obvious with his feelings... resulting in this. Clearly, Riki had misunderstood being obvious with being a bit more invasive. Probably, Jungwon's fault... What you two needed to do was communication.

Just as Jungwon opened his mouth again, he watched you push Riki so he stood a metre away from you. "Stay over there."

So much for communication.

Riki pursed his lips, pretending to ponder your suggestion. He took a step closer to you. "But I want to be next to you."

Your eye twitched in frustration. "Riki!" You cried out, balling your fists around the invisible air with annoyance. "Can't you just stop? I told you... you need space. With everything that's being going on for three years... I'm worried about you."

All the humour that was sported by Riki had disappeared in the matter of seconds. He chewed down on his lip, eyes darting around the room, registering what you had just said. He sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm not a kid, noona. Not anymore. I'm older. I have thoughts. and... I have feelings too."

You blinked, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I know but... I just... I just wanted you to gave some space. Some time to think for yourself as a person. It's important for you."

Riki's tongue poked the inside of his cheek. His eyes fell to you, meeting your tired gaze directly. "You said you'd never leave me alone."

Your eyes suddenly softened at his words while your heart ached. "Riki-ah, I'm not–"

"You promised, noona," Riki whispered, a flash of hurt crossing him. He took a step closer while you took another back. "You're afraid of something."

You furrowed your brows. "W-What? I'm not afraid–" You started to defend yourself but Riki cut you off again, not heeding to the warnings Jungwon was calling out.

"No, you are. What are you so afraid of, noona? Tell me... we can fix together. This time I'll help you," Riki persuaded, still inching towards you.

"Riki," You breathed out. God, you were a mess. All you emotions were everywhere. You didn't know what to think... what to say. "Why are you making this so difficult?"

Riki's hands stretched out, encasing yours with his. "I'm not making anything difficult. I think you're just in denial. In denial that I really like you. In denial that you like me just as much."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confrontation. The guard you had built for the past few weeks had come flying down after taking every hit from Riki. "I... I don't wont you to feel uncomfortable," You confessed, "I don't won't you to feel pressured because I'm older than you... because of everything we've done together."

"Noona, I–" Riki's shoulders fell at your admission. God, the fact you were even thinking of that was entirely disheartening. "I don't feel pressured at all. You could never make me feel uncomfortable. I– you're the only person in the universe who actually makes me feel comfortable. No offence, hyung."

Jungwon raised his hands, gesturing his acceptance and dismissal at the same time.

Riki kept his eyes on you, hands tightening around yours. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me but that's not the only reason I like you. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You might not know it but you welcome everyone with open arms, the most beautiful woman I know, but don't tell my mom that, you're so smart, hardworking, caring... you make me want to be a better person. You make me happy, noona."

You blinked rapidly. Were you dreaming right now? Was this a prank of some sort? You removed your hands from Riki's, using the tips of your fingers to pinch your skin of your wrist. A small yelp slipped past your mouth.

Riki jumped slightly, startled. His hands immediately returned to yours, gently rubbing the affected area. "Noona," He chuckled, "This is real. All of it's real. My feelings for you are real."

"Just making sure," You laughed softly before sighing. A wave of heat washed over you and your mouth felt dry. What were you to say now? How do you respond to something so silly yet so valid?

"You can just say you like me, noona," Riki said, eyes beaming down at you in amusement.

Of course you had said that out loud.

You sucked in a sharp breath, slowly exhaling. "I... I like you, Riki," You mumbled.

Riki narrowed his eyes. "I can't hear you," He teased, grinning from ear to ear.

"Nope, nope." You retracted your hands. "I take it back. I'm taking it back... right now."

Riki laughed, reaching out for your hand, only to pull you into a hug. He lifted you gently, spinning you around with pure happiness rushing into his brain.

"Riki," You cried out, "I'm going to feel sick," You said, even though a full blown smile was on your face.

"It's okay," He retorted back, slowly coming to a stop and putting you back on the floor. "If you do..." His hand darted out to push back your hair behind your ear. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

After a brief minute, Riki turned to the empty area where Jungwon once stood. "Where did hyung go?"

"I think he left after you said I was beautiful," You cooed.

A flush of red tinted Riki's ears and cheeks. He folded his arms, getting defensive. "I... Well... it's true!"

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!

[kanmom51]

PJM2 is coming

MUSE

I literally cannot contain my excitiement.

Sitting her, at work may I say, putting these words on paper, so to speak, because f***ing hell, wtf JM?

Where to start?

The colour concepts? The choice of name? Choice of font (That JM popping to eye)? The flower? The links to TTU (notes sheet and flower)? The whole play with Closer than this? The dropped lyrics?

This man is a friggin genius (not that we didn't know this already)...

There is so much to talk about, and he hasn't even started with the promotions, and we haven't even seen the concept photos or the album and the songs. Name, colours, 2 lines of lyrics and we have our hands full already. They certainly know what they are doing.

Before I jump in, I want to, once again, state very loudly and clearly that everything written here are my opinions, which are based on what we've been handed so far, and could change the more we are shown.

So, let's get it...

JM fetching this from the purple locker (which we don't see are purple off the bat and only when the lights turn on). Notes for The Truth Untold.

His wittle thumb with his crescent moon.

The notes title : La lettra - The letter. Hmm... interesting.

And then this:

We have the flower:

and this that makes me believe that yes indeed, it is the silhouette of a Smeralso.

Some of this I am yet to see where is going. like the referencing of "the letter", The truth untold, the flower... (she says, all while thinking of the choice this Festa to stream LY Seoul final with said song and the changes that JM and JK chose to make to it)...

All that and more in one little short clip.

And then we have that little 'chat' opened up by BH, and those lyrics. Oh, those lyrics.

All references that indeed can be connected with army. I mean, that's what JM is king of.

All also a clear reference to a one Jeon Jungkook, if you are only willing to look and see.

Rain

Snow

Crying

We have this:

Which they have BOTH chose to bring up once again in 2023, JK happening to do so during JM's Face promos, not to mention the rain reference in SNTY (and of course, goes without saying Still with you, but that's back in 2020, while they have both managed to bring it up and reference it once again in 2023).

Remember this?

Oh, and what about this?

And then we have these:

Remember JM tearing up after winning MMA for BS&T ?

JM getting emotional and crying only followed by JK tearing up.

*If you haven't seen this one yet, go watch the full live.

And who can forget JK during MOTS ONE as well, seeing JM crying, distress clearly showing on his face, just waiting for the moment he can go and comfort JM.

If these are actual lyrics for a song to come or lyrics that were dropped, one thing we know, and that these words, these lines, they were written by JM, and he made a clear choice to share them with us.

And in doing so, sorry, I'm still not believing this all while sitting here gushing and knowing this was coming (no, I didn't know this specifically was coming, but the feeling that they were going big or going home, that I've had ever since July 2023... took some time and many tribulations, but we are getting there folks). Sidetracked as I always am, lol.

Back on track.... in doing so, JM is basically standing on a rooftop screaming at the top of his lungs:

Not 1, not 2, but 3 JK references in that little shared piece of lyrics clearly written by JM, for an album we are yet to see and hear.

Anyone, and I mean anyone that is a BTS army, that has seen original content, that has followed their Twitter account or seen older tweets, that are open and willing to see it, will KNOW that these lyrics are JAYKAY!!!!!

And let me backtrack a second here...

Cause I did mention that these references could be understood as if they are made for army, right?

So yeah. Army references or JK references? I am going to say both, leaning very much to the JK side of it. Cause that's how they do it. Time after time after time.

Let's mention the colour choices as well.

We have the background colours.

We have the yellow.

And then we have the album concepts.

2 concepts.

Blooming

and Serenade.

Which happens to be Yellow, same colour threaded through Serendipity.

And we even have purple thrown in there too.

Notice how all the lockers are painted purple. The colour of army you may say, but also JK's colour (so again, army and JK?).

And he's pulling out the music sheet from this purple locker.

Those lockers representing his inspiration for his music perhaps?

Giving us these lyrics, then telling us the album is called Muse (or telling us the name of the album and it's meaning and then dropping those lyrics, take your pick regarding the timing, cause basically, same same), showing us the music being extracted from those purple lockers... ya think his muse is that entity he's talking about in those lyrics perhaps (even more so if we see the references as both for army and JK)?

Rhetorical question, btw.

And then we have the mint green.

Perhaps this is what JM was talking about when he told us in his birthday live, if memory serves me right, about going to the starting point, or more so starting from the beginning trying to figure out himself as an artist?

Also, cannot help but think of this image here:

I cannot wait to see his concept photos, and where this is all going.

We talked about JK being so loud during 2023 (well, he's had his super loud moments before that, but 2023 and his lives were smoking). And JM, well it felt (and I say felt, cause it's not really true, and I'll explain why) was quieter, more subdued, especially during JK's Golden promotions.

But here's the thing.

JM and JK have their own special oh so different ways of being loud and showing us themselves (and it shows even more so seeing that JK, for whatever reasons he had for it, did not write his songs for Golden - not saying he did not have influence on the lyrics or choice of songs with lyrics he wanted). JK did it through his choices in his photo shoots and styling for his songs and album. He did it with his lives and his total fanboying over JM. And JM, he does it through his art, which includes also but not only his lyrics.

Those two are both loud as fuck. And JM, well if these sneak lyrics are a promo of more to come (which, they probably are seeing that we have Face to fall back on as an example), then he's as loud as a frigging foghorn.

And last but not least, before I go:

Lookie here...

D-31

[81folklore]

older - LECLERC

pairings: charles leclerc x male!singer!reader (fc: luke hemmings)

summary: singer yn ln releases a love song with his boyfriend, and the public are not prepared for who it is about

authors note: this has been on my mind for SO LONG. i honestly dont like how many fics ive been doing on the same people (charles, lando etc) but whenever i go to start a new one on my list for someone else i think of something that i have to do😭 also in this reader is not a part of 5sos but close friends with the 3, wfttwtaf is readers album and older is exclusivly the readers song

authors note 2: i wanted to quickly clarify i am NOT speculating that charles or luke are gay/queer and this is not my intentions. luke obviously sings older and i find it easier to visualise it this way, while the reader in this is male, this could also be read as gn!reader. this is FICTION please do not tkae this as me speculating anything

authors note 3: i didnt really know what i was doing with this so its kind of all over the place and very rushed :/ but then again when arent my smau all over the place?? also can you tell i hate writing comments by the way i just dont😭

masterlist

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, ashtonirwin and 818,937 others

we started this song together back in 2020 and picked it back up at the end of 2022

'Older' was originally a voice memo of a 50’s-style love song that we wrote together, then forgot about. when thinking of concepts for my debut album i stumbled across the memo and fell in love with it all over again, but i put it aside yet again as to me, it deserved more than the album

the song has changed a lot from the original voice memo, but the meaning has stayed the same throughout. despite all the beauty, the ups and downs of a long-term relationship over many years, there’s inevitably going to be the worst moment of your love because one of you is going to lose each other

capturing those feelings in a song was tricky but ultimately we wrote from the heart and i think it shows in the song itself

this has always been a song between us, so having him play on this song was very importnt to me and im glad he said yes

older is now yours

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername

liked by landonorris, calumhood and 1,727,338 others

im very pleased to announce a very special one off show at the Royal Albert Hall in London this November 18th. I will be playing a bunch of tracks from my debut album and may be joined to play some others aswell! Tickets on sale this monday at 10 am BST. Lots of love always, yn x

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername

liked by 5sos, charles_leclerc and 2,719,936 others

thank you for an incredible night at the royal albert hall

looking back at the best night of my life, i need to thank each and every one of you who allowed this dream to come true, i will never be able to thank you guys enough

performing in my dream venue, with my favorite people in the world was something i never thought was possible and yet here i am, writing this still on my high from last night

thank you to my friends; michael, ashton and calum who took the time to come to london and perform their songs with me, thank you for always loving me and agreeing to my crazy ideas

to my team and everyone who worked to make this night as special as it could be, thank you. thank you for making my htoughts a reality and making this night as wonderful as possible

thank you to the staff who worked throughout the show to make sure everyone was safe, well and looked after. you truly do not get as much credit as you deserve and i apreciate the hard work you put in to keep everyone happy

thank you to those who joined me, i wish each and every one of you who wanted to could have been there. thank you for singing along and listening to me pour my heart and soul into my music

thank you for letting me do this x

view comments

user55: not the pcd hitting already☹️

user1: and im supposed to pretend i didnt see yn and 5sos perform os/co??

user89: CHARLES?? YN IS DATING CHARLES??

user91: AND HE CAME ON STAGE?? AND THEY PERFORMED OLDER??

user50: i cant believe i saw this all happen live

user47: THANK YOU TO WHOEVER WAS RUNING THE GRAINY LIVESTREAM I OWE YOU MY LIFE🧎🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

ashtonirwin: thank you for everything yn. youre a real life angel

user16: NO CHARLES MENTION??

user9: BESTIE HE HAS A WHOLE POST

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, michaelclifford and 3,619,273 others

after having time to process this show, I feel so overcome with gratefulness. my music means so much to me and seeing so many people resonate with it in a live space was so special for me.

charlie, my life would literally fall apart without you and this would have never happened without you giving me the confidence to do so, i hold so much love and admiration for you

thank you for joining me on such a special night and performing our song with me, thank you for sticking with me through it all and thank you for allowing me to share this part of my life with you

i sometimes wonder where i would be if i didnt find you, if i wasnt blessed with your love. i try to think about the times before you, before us, but both feel impossible to do after feeling your love

life with you is so special and i promise to always cherish and love you

merci de m'avoir laissé vieillir avec toi, merci de m'avoir laissé t'adorer, merci de m'avoir choisi (thank you for letting me get old with you, thank you for letting me adore you, thank you for choosing me)

yn x

tagged: charles_leclerc

comments on this post have been limited

charles_leclerc: mon ange, je t'aimerai toujours (my angel, I will always love you)

charles_leclerc: je suis tellement privilégiée d'être celle que tu aimes🤍🤍 (I'm so privileged to be the one you love)

yourusername: vieillir avec toi ne semble pas si effrayant🖤🖤 (growing old with you doesn't seem so scary)

[maevstar]

| Introducing myself in my fame dr ᯓᡣ𐭩

ᝰ. My name is Maeve Amelie Solace, but people usually call me by “Mae”.

ᝰ. I’m 26yo and I’m an A-list american actress and singer. (I was born in 1997 but I didn’t turned 27 yet).

ᝰ. I started my way on acting when I was 16 when my older brother was doing a play on high school and begged me to participate. I did, and since then I’ve been in love with acting.

ᝰ. When I graduated from high school i moved out from my hometown — Austin, Texas — to LA and entered to UCLA School of Theater.

ᝰ. My first big project in Hollywood was “The Edge of Seventeen” when I was 19-20yo, before that I just worked with small projects, mostly from my uni.

ᝰ. That project gave me more visibility in the industry and I became more well known.

ᝰ. Some of my films: The Edge of Seventeen, The School for Good and Evil (adaptation of the books), Lady bird, Scream 4 (2018), Little Woman, Causeway, We Live in a Time, Challengers, Me Before You, Glass Onion 2, Duna, Anyone but You, Don’t look up, No hard feelings, Don’t worry darling, The outrun, and etc.

ᝰ. Some of my shows: Supernatural (Claire Novak), Looking for Alasca, YOU, outer banks (season 4).

ᝰ. I’ve been nominated for the Oscar 4 times as the best Actress in a Leading Role, but I’m just gonna win the award in the 4th time (2024). Futhermore, i’ve won a lot of awards and nominations like Emmy’s and Golden Globes. In 2022, I entered the list of The Most Influential People by Time Magazine.

Now, my singer career:

ᝰ. My mom is a country singer — not much known — in Texas, so I’ve grew up loving music, and I’ve been writing songs since I was 15, but these never turned into real songs, until 2019-2020, when I recorded my EP’s.

ᝰ. My first EP is called “Minor” and it has 7 songs. I released it in 2019 just for fun, was some songs that I’ve been writing during the years. In 2020 I released more 2 EPs, called “Bittersweet” and “Good Riddance”, with 7 and 10 songs respectively, again, just for fun.

ᝰ. Now, my new coming up project on music is my first Album, called “The Secret Of Us”, it has 13 songs (+ 7 from deluxe) and all of them will have a music video, cause my objective is making a visual album.

ᝰ. With my new album, I intend to go on my first tour.

Fun facts about me:

ᝰ. I know ballet and gymnastics cause when my sister was 8 years old she wanted to learn but was scared to do it alone, so I used to go to classes with her.

ᝰ. I have 3 siblings, Will, Kayla and Austin. Will is 2 years older than me, Kayla is younger than me 4 years and Austin is 8 years younger than me. (Another fun fact is that Austin is adopted).

ᝰ. My s/o is Drew Starkey, I met him in a party at Maddie Cline’s house (2021). Also, Madelyn is my best friend and I’m very close to the cast of the outer banks too.

ᝰ. I’m in fact brazilian. I was born there but my family moved to the US when I was 8 — my father is brazilian but my mom is from us, she was in a trip when met my dad in brazil and blablabla — so I have dual nationality. (latinas are better lol). But when I was 14, I moved again to Brazil and lived there for almost 2 years with my aunt before I came back to US.

ᝰ. When I was 16, I made a YouTube channel with my brother Will and we used to talk about the most random things ever (btw it was a flop lol, this channel just came up when we became famous). (another fun fact is that he is also a well known actor, but more on theater plays than on screen).

ᝰ. When I was in high school, I was planning on going to med school — mostly because of my dad, he’s a doctor (my obsession with greys anatomy might got me inclined to that too🤭) — but then I fell in love with acting (when I was 16, like i said) and never quit. Besides that, I’m still very interested with things related to science and human body, stuff like that; most of things that I know are bc of my dad tho.

ᝰ. I’m polyglot. I speak Portuguese, English, Italian, Spanish and a bit of French and Latin. I also know ASL.

ᝰ. I still don’t know how to ride bikes without training wheels cause no one ever taught me (😭).

ᝰ. I love the sea, beaches, everything related to that, it’s one of my favorite places in the world.

mood boards; mood boards details;

─────── ୨ৎ ───────

[bisexual-kane]

So, some insight about why so many older dudes on Reddit and such viscerally hate the Young Bucks is that the Young Bucks make them feel stupid and uncool.

Like, even as late as the 1990s, even when wrestling was the most popular thing during the Monday Night Wars and the Attitude Era, you would still get people who would laugh at you for being a wrestling fan because, dur, don't you know it's FAKE???

So part of the response to that is to insist that you're not a mark, you're a smart fan, someone who is hip to how the business works. Instead of getting caught up in the magic of kayfabe, because you're too smart for that, you analyze matches and assign them star ratings based on performance. You cheer the heel because you get they are putting in the work to add heat to the match. You obsess over TV ratings. You speculate on where storylines should go to build heat. You insist you know better ways to get people over and complain that Vince or Bischoff or Russo is not using someone who is so obviously the next big thing correctly.

It's very much an "I Enjoy the Muppets on a Much Deeper Level Than You" vibe.

But the most important thing of all, though, is that you must always be one step ahead of the wrestlers, bookers, and storytellers. See, you're a smart fan. So you must never, ever, get worked. Because that would be very uncool and lame.

And that's where the Bucks come in.

Maybe it's less obvious now, but after the Bucks left TNA/Impact, part of their brand was to very specifically get heat from all of us dorks on the Internet. These "smart" fans are the ones who are most likely to be going to PWG shows or following NJPW. So how do you get heat in your match? You have to piss off the smart marks.

I think the most obvious example is the Superkick Party. The Bucks start absolutely spamming a move that is usually a protected finisher. They get accused of exposing the business. They are upsetting people who obsess over start ratings and post on Reddit. But they are doing a classic heel move--they are working the audience. And of course, this pisses these people off even more because it reveals that they aren't as "smart" as they think they are. Which just builds into the Bucks' heat even more.

It's why they named their finisher the Meltzer Driver.

It's why they stole the NWO's "Too Sweet" and DX's "suck it."

It's why Matt Jackson kicks out of everyone's finisher like he's John Cena or Roman Reigns despite looking like a doe-eyed pretty girl.

It's why the Bucks became such successful independent wrestlers that they were able to build the second most-successful wrestling company in North America on the back of their YouTube vlog.

But again, the main people they are working are dudes who hate getting worked. And the Bucks are very good at this.

Just, as a personal anecdote, The Bucks are one of my favorite tag teams ever (if not my number one). At their Revolution 2020 match against Hangman and Kenny, I was in the crowd, and I was cheering for the Bucks. But then they grabbed Kenny's arms--Kenny who is supposed to be their best friend, Kenny who they didn't really have an issue with--and they hit him with the Golden Trigger--Kenny's finisher with his soulmate Kota Ibushi. The crowd turned. I turned. I was so infuriated at them, and I realized--they totally got me. For a great moment, I believed wrestling was 100% real, and I hated them so much, and the magic was there, and it was awesome.

Because, actually, it's not more fun to be smarter than the magician. It's not better to be cynical. It's actually pretty cool to not understand how the trick works, to get caught up in the wonder and possibility that just maybe magic can be real.

Wrestling is more fun when you get worked and let yourself enjoy it.

And the Bucks are always working this certain set of fans that are trying aggressively to not enjoy wrestling, not get sucked into it, to show that they are "too cool"--but the Bucks actually reveal that isn't the case. They are marks just like the rest of us. And they hate that.

But, yeah, TL;DR: The Bucks are amazing at specifically working Internet fans for heel hit, but these fans need to prove they are "too smart" for that. But the Bucks are smarter than them, so it makes them feel stupid. Hence all the outrageous hate.

[user211201]

Branded

---

Originally posted on 2020-05-27 by dumb-and-jocked

Unfortunately dumb-and-jocked's account has been deactivated.

If the original author ever reads this: thank you for all your works!

---

Zane wasn’t particularly excited about going out to his uncle’s ranch. The two had never really known how to connect, with one being from the East Coast and the other in rural Wyoming. Zane had grown up privileged in the urban lifestyle, with many stores, jobs, and more progressive influences around every corner. His parents were also a little richer than most, so he was able to enjoy a luxurious apartment all to himself while he attended Yale. Well... not all to himself. His boyfriend Kaeden visited so often he was practically a second resident, but Zane didn’t mind--he loved the attention.

Zane practically adored his modern lifestyle, and made sure to show it by never leaving a five-mile radius. This caused his parents to worry, assuming if he didn’t start now he’d never know how to go out on his own. Trying to help (like all parents did), his father spoke with his brother and the two set up a little spring vacation for Zane. When Zane’s father had proposed the idea, Zane didn’t exactly jump in excitement. In fact, he didn’t seem excited at all.

“Really?” Zane asked coarsely. “Spring break is for beaches, coasts, actual fun!”

“Zane,” his father replied coolly. “I didn’t raise you to be a leech off of my own money. Go out to your uncle’s ranch and give him a hand; earn something for once. And anyway, Wyoming’s great this time of year--you might enjoy it!”

“Can I at least bring Kaeden with me?”

His father’s eyes went down for a moment. Zane always had a lurking feeling that his father wasn’t truly alright with his only son being gay, his Western Christian roots molding him that way, but his dad always acted like he was accepting. Proving Zane’s point, he swore he could’ve seen his dad’s ears perk up a second after the proposal was made.

“That’s a great idea!” his dad cheered, almost too enthusiastically. “Now someone can relish in the same pain you’ll be experiencing.” Zane rolled his eyes in response to the sarcasm before walking out to his car.

Reflecting back on that moment, his father did seem a little more eager than usual, but Zane didn’t care. It was too late now, as the old pickup truck was pulling into the driveway of the ranch. A huge arch loomed above them, displaying “WELCH” in iron letters across the top. Back when it used to be his grandparents’ ranch, Zane’s father loved this place. He used to thrive as a cowboy, but once he got a taste of the other side of the Mississippi, he left the lifestyle behind him. The rest of the family seemed alright with the transition, with Zane’s uncle being the older brother anyway, meaning he would be taking the ranch, so they decided to let him roam. His uncle had now been running the ranch for almost ten years, just him, his wife, and a small crew to help with the daily tasks.

“Alright, boys, enjoy the trip,” the man in the front grunted as he halted to a stop. Kaeden and Zane slowly jumped out of the truck, grabbing their bags as they looked at the massive farm. Zane swore it looked bigger than the last time he was here, but that was to be expected. The last time he was here was a decade ago for his grandparents’ funerals, so there was probably going to be change. While Kaedan gazed around in awe, Zane spotted what--or who--he was looking for. Leaning against one looming building was a tall man wearing a blue button-up and worn-out jeans. His large boots were placed firmly on the ground and a barn wall, while a beige hat rested proudly on top of his head. He looked like a more muscular, worn-out version of his father, his similar salt and pepper stubble pulling the whole look together.

“Zaney boy, is that yeu?” the man asked in astonishment, the southern accent as prominent as ever.

“Yeah, Uncle Treyton.”

Zane tried to sound enthusiastic, but he never felt like family with the redneck. Not only did the two have completely different perspectives, but they didn’t even look related. Zane didn’t share the same muscular body as the silver fox, but instead had a little too much meat on his bones. He also didn’t get the Welch height, with Zane’s lime-dyed hair barely even reaching his uncle’s neck.

“And this must be Kaeden Sargent, put it here!”

Zane’s uncle shoved a meaty hand in front of him and Kaeden quickly accepted. He was always more optimistic than Zane, putting his best foot forward into every situation. The tall, lanky man took the other’s hand and shook it vigorously, so much in fact that his ginger curls bounced in a rhythm. Fortunately, the baby fat surrounding his face allowed him to act a little childish.

“Firm, that’ll go a long ways here, son.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Ah, y’all can call me Treyton.”

Kaeden and Zane exchanged looks at each other. For a Christian cowboy, he was awfully accepting of their relationship. Neither of them expected Zane’s uncle to be so understanding.

“Where’s Aunt Joelene at?” Zane inquired as they hauled their bags inside.

“Her and the lady folk already had a vacation planned, so she ain’t gonna be here this week. Just some good ‘ol male bonding!”

He led them to two guest rooms on opposite sides of a hallway, telling them to toss their individual bags into one or the other. Zane and Kaeden exchanged looks again, although this time it was for a different reason. They both knew they might be staying in different rooms, but not sleeping.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang from the front of the house. After dropping their things, Zane and Kaedan followed Treyton back out to the front door. The trio wandered out to the foyer to see another cowboy smugly standing on the porch.

“Harry!” Treyton shouted as he swung the door open. “‘Bout time ya got here--the nephew’s in town.”

Harry looked over at Zane, inspecting him and then Kaeden with hawk eyes. His tight black shirt didn’t hide the impressive muscles from years on the farm. The same could be said for his faded jeans and massive belt buckle, both of which did nothing to camouflage his gargantuan pouch.

“Is yers that paddy?” he remarked with a deep voice, his accent as thick as Treyton’s. “Or the fag.”

“They’re both fags,” Treyton corrected. “The paddy’s his ‘boyfriend’.”

Kaeden patted Zane’s shoulder in a comforting way. Treyton’s language had just confirmed that they had signed themselves up for a long vacation.

“I don’t mean to be abandonin’ y’all so quickly, but the town’s rodeo’s goin’ on tonight and I’m a volunteerin’,” Zane’s uncle began. “Everythin’ there is free, so I expect to see y’all out there. It’ll be a great time!”

The two hicks strutted over to Harry’s old pickup truck, the engine roaring mighty proud as it came to life. Zane and Kaedan wondered how they hadn’t heard it coming down the driveway.

“Keys are on the counter!” Treyton hollered as they drove off. Kaeden smirked lowering his hand from Zane’s shoulder to his butt as they watched the other pair leave.

“Might as well taint your uncle’s house before we go to the rodeo.”

“You really want to go to that thing?” Zane whined, missing the hint.

“No, but we should,” Kaeden replied. “Until then, let me keep you entertained.” He then started kissing Zane’s neck passionately, dragging him down a hallway.

“Alright!” Zane giggled, following along. He loved his boyfriend.

— —

Kaeden and Zane hesitantly pulled into the parking lot, the dirt flying into the air as they parked the rusty pickup near the back. The whole event took place in some kind of stadium, but instead of a neatly trimmed field with shiny seats, there were wooden bleachers and a dirt floor. They weren’t particularly excited, going from hardcore sex to this dump, but as long as they were at each other’s sides they’d make it through. At least, that’s what Zane kept telling himself.

The two cautiously jumped out, wearing sweatpants and matching concert tees from an event they went to on their fifth date. Zane had thought that if they wore their most casual clothes, they’d blend into the crowd, but it turned out this was truly his first rodeo. Walking up to the front gate, they saw a rainbow of button-ups scattered among the stretched and stained tees. Hicks and cowboys galore excitedly hollered as they entered the rodeo grounds. The strange thing was, it seemed like people were gathering by color. Zane and Kaeden watched the red button-ups slowly separate from the yellow tees, who themselves avoided the purple plaid-clad group. Even with the odd formation, the pair stuck out like two weeds in a freshly-planted garden.

“Alright next!”

Zane and Kaeden had been so perplexed by the entire situation that they hadn’t noticed they had crossed the parking lot, gotten in line, and made it to the front.

“Zaney boy, ya made it!”

Zane’s uncle proudly stood behind a booth, waving as the boyfriends walked up. Harry was placed on the other side, his look much more calculating than Treyton’s inviting smile.

“Are y’all excited?” Uncle Treyton asked, his accent coming out stronger with each syllable.

“Totally,” Kaeden answered, assuming his other half wouldn’t.

“Let us just stamp y’all and yeu’ll be on in.”

“Wait, why are we the only one’s getting stamped?” Kaedan observed. Zane hadn’t noticed, but all the other attendees had gotten in without a mark.

“Remember how I said y’all are gettin’ in free tonight,” Treyton explained. “This is yer free ticket.”

They nodded their heads as Kaeden extended the back of his hand out to Zane’s uncle. Treyton solidly pressed a stamp down on his hand, the blue color left behind sinking deep into his pale skin like a tattoo. Zane proceeded to do the same for Harry, who marked his hand with a black darker than the night itself.

“What do the colors mean?” Zane questioned.

“Whatever ink we’re usin’.” Harry snarked, sending him on his way. Zane sighed as he strolled through the gate.

“I’ll be at a food stand later tonight so make sure to come and visit me!” Treyton shouted as they disappeared into the crowd.

“We can do this,” Kaeden whispered, grabbing Zane’s hand and dragging him to the stands. He sounded reassuring, but Zane couldn’t tell if it was for him or Kaedan himself.

“It’s just for tonight,” Kaedan continued, “After that, we won’t have to deal with Harry, or anyone for that matter. Except for your uncle of course.”

Zane grinned--his boyfriend always knew how to cheer him up.

“And besides,” Kaeden continued. “Look at how much we have to explore!”

It might have been a bit exaggerated, but there was a some space to venture. Besides the stands, there were a few porta potties, some food stands, and a big tent filled with gear for the local country radio station. The tent was their first destination, looking through all the merchandise and advertisements. Although they both hated country music, they had fun exploring the booth, even signing up for a raffle to a Chase Rice concert. Did they know who he was? No--but they didn’t care. Even though they got a few sideways glances from passing families and couples, they were actually enjoying their time at the rodeo. Zane and Kaeden were there to have fun just like everyone else.

9.8 SECONDS! THAT WAS A GOOD TUSSLE, DAVE!

The pair watched on as the participant was whipped off the horse’s back. The first few rounds had looked painful, but Kaeden and Zane eventually stopped flinching after every contestant. It was the sport after all, so they shouldn’t be worried unless everyone else was worried. The uncomfortable thing was, everyone at the rodeo did seem slightly on edge, but it wasn’t over the participants. Unsurprisingly, it was over them.

“Hey,” Zane said, elbowing his partner to grab his attention. “Is it me or is there something strange about the crowd here?”

“You mean how they’re all looking at us like we’re sick?” Kaeden asked, not tearing his eyes away from the next contestant.

8.7 SECONDS! IMPRESSIVE GRIP FROM HANK!

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know, I mean…” Zane stumbled off, noticing Kaeden was still focused on the riders.

9.4 SECONDS! NICE JOB MARV!

“Earth to Kaedan!” Zane snapped, finally snatching the other’s attention. “For example, did we miss out on some color-coded theme? Why is everyone segregated?”

Kaeden glanced around the stands, noticing what his boyfriend was talking about. Although everyone was clumped together, there were noticeable separations. It seemed like groups of men, women, and children were organized by the shading of their clothes. It was peculiar, but so were most small, rural towns.

“Calm down, babe,” Kaeden replied nonchalantly. “It’s probably just some cheerleading thing, you know? Like someone’s family wears orange because their their fanclub.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Zane conceded.

10.1 SECONDS! I’D EXPECT NOTHING LESS FROM RYLAN!

“You’re probably just paranoid from all the homophobia around here,” Kaeden reasoned. “But luckily, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

“Oh really,” Zane responded coyly.

“Definitely, meet me at your uncle’s food stand and I’ll get us some snacks.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna head to a restroom first.”

“Miss me!” Kaeden exclaimed as he rushed down the risers. Zane grinned, knowing he was lucky to have snagged his boyfriend.

— —

“Ah! Sorry,” Zane grunted as he shimmied out of the porta potty door, noticing the growing line that had assembled outside. He thought he hadn’t taken too long, but when one’s bowels beg for release, one has to give in. Walking with a little pep in his step, he eagerly bounced his way around the rodeo grounds to find his uncle’s food stand. Kaeden knew Zane had a soft spot for food, which was pretty evident by the soft spots around his hips. He was excited to see what he had gotten for him. After wandering around for a minute, he finally spotted his uncle stepping outside an old trailer.

“Uncle Treyton!” Zane shouted as he approached.

“Eh, Zane! What’s up? Enjoyin’ the rodeo?”

“I guess?” Zane replied honestly. “Have you seen Kaeden?”

“Ah yeah, he was my last customer for the night. I saw him walkin’ over to the picnic area,” Treyton grunted, locking the door to the trailer as he closed up.

“Thanks!” Zane responded, beginning to walk off.

“Hold on there, cowboy!” Treyton demanded, chuckling at his own irony. “I’m gonna be headin’ back to the ranch, gotta long day of work tomorrow, so make sure y’all don’t stay out too late.”

“Sounds good, Uncle Treyton!” Zane started again, desperately wanting to get back to Kaeden.

“AND!” Treyton emphasized. “Harry wanted to see ya ‘bout somethin’ before ya left. He should be at the stables.”

“Great, thanks!” Zane tore off, almost kicking up the dirt behind him as he darted back towards the porta potties. He made it to the picnic area in record time, almost panting as he slowed down. The so-called “picnic area” was really just a group of tables resting behind the bleachers, with no real purpose besides having a surface to eat at. Zane searched for Kaeden, but it seemed like the place was totally empty. The only person he saw was a man sitting alone, ravenously scarfing down an order of nachos. He was wearing a blue plaid button-up and the same straight, overused jeans as every other man at the rodeo. He also adorned a cowboy hat, a quite brawny body, and a bulge much larger than both Kaedan and Zane’s combined. The cowboy looked to be in his late 20’s, but his brunette chin strap and mustache combo made him seem older. Zane approached the other man delicately, noticing the redneck’s very large boots tap eagerly as he chowed on his food.

“Um, excuse me…” Zane mumbled quietly. “I was wondering if-”

“Zane!” the man jumped up from his seat. “I was worryin’ ‘bout you! Thought you might’ve gotten stuck er somethin’.” Zane shook his head, confused at who the low-pitched, southern gent was exactly.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Zane, it’s Clayton!” he paused, waiting for Zane to remember.

“Clayton Sherman?” Zane was still bewildered, until something clicked in his head.

“Wait, Kaedan?”

“No, Clayton. Didja hit yer head or somethin’?”

Zane felt a little crazy, but something supernatural was pulling him towards this stranger. He didn’t know what the force was, but his curiosity guided him.

“One sec, just let me check something.”

Zane grabbed Clayton’s right hand swiftly, finding the same blue stamp that his boyfriend had received earlier. Although it had faded dramatically, it was good enough proof for Zane.

“Kaedan, what happened to you? How did you become like this? What happened after you left the stand?” Zane must have been hallucinating. There was no way his long, slim, ginger lover had become some horse-kickin’, tobacco-spittin’ cowboy, right?

“First off, it’s Clayton,” Clayton responded calmly. “And I did exactly what I said I would. I went to yer uncle’s stand and got us some food. He told me he’d give us ‘somethin’ special’ and slapped my hand, saying it would be on the house. Can you believe it? These darn nachos were free!”

“Alright,” Zane quickly remarked. “Then what?”

“Well, I waited for ya, but the nachos kept lookin’ at me. So, I thought ya wouldn’t mind if I took a bite. One bite became two, then three, and now we’re here.” Clayton showed Zane the empty box, beaming a childish smile.

“Kaedan, I don’t under-”

Suddenly, Zane grabbed his head as he felt a shock go through his skull. He grimaced as it coursed through his brain, causing him to shake momentarily before regaining his thoughts. As fast as the pain had come, it had disappeared too.

“Y’all ok there?” Clayton asked, patting Zane’s shoulder in a brotherly way.

“Yeah, I think so,” Zane blinked. “What were we talking about again?”

“How I ate all the food!” Clayton hollered, laughing at himself in a low guffaw. “We oughta get back to the rodeo though, Little Petey’s going up soon.”

“Little Petey?” Zane mumbled to himself as the two hoisted themselves up. At first, he didn’t recognize the name, but the more he thought about it, the more memories that seemed to appear. Little Petey was Clayton’s little brother of course! Both Clayton and Pete Sherman were expert horse riders, having both broken records for steer wrestling and bull riding. They’d also been the star quarterbacks for the town back in their prime, but now with Pete turning 26 and Clayton having his second kid on the way, they were ready to settle down and start (or continue) their families.

“Yeah! I gotta run on back to Cassie and Trevor. Nice seein’ ya round these parts again!”

Clayton tossed the empty carton into the trash and ran off back to the stands. Zane watched the man dash up the wooden bleachers to his wife and first boy, embracing them as he sat down to continue watching the show. He sunk right back into the cluster of blue, completely camouflaged by the other people in the crowd. Zane didn’t really know Clayton, just remembered him as someone who worked at his uncle’s farm. He seemed nice, but definitely not friend-material. He had a little too much homophobia and country in him. Zane stopped for a moment to correct himself. Clayton didn’t have a little too much; he had a lot of too much.

8.3 SECONDS! LET’S HEAR IT FOR MIKE!

Deciding he had nothing else to do, Zane started heading back towards the parking lot. Although the event seemed kind of interesting, Zane was too lonesome to really find any joy in the situation. Even his uncle’s presence would’ve made him want to stay, but with no one there by his side, Zane decided to head out. Right as he stepped through the gate, he suddenly recalled his uncle saying something about Harry wanting to see him. He didn’t like Harry, and he assumed it worked the other way around too, but Zane knew he should respect his uncle’s wishes.

8.9 SECONDS! DANNY’S HERE TO STAY!

Zane stumbled into the area housing the horse stables, the place completely deserted besides the rolling tumbleweeds. Strolling past a few horse-buses, it didn’t take long to find Harry. He grinned as Zane approached, holding a lasso in one hand.

“‘Bout time you got here, thinkin’ you got lost er somethin’.”

“Wish I would have,” Zane mumbled to himself as Harry tossed an arm around his shoulder. Harry suddenly seemed more cheery than he had been before.

“Did yer uncle tell ya what yer doing here?”

“No, but I hope it’s not too long; I’m getting tired.” To emphasize his point, Zane faked a huge yawn.

“Not that, fag,” Harry chuckled, dropping down one end of the rope. “I mean this vacation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back in high school, yer pops, uncle, and I used to be the studs of the town. Valuable players, intimidatin’ cowboys, 100% corn-fed beef. But when yer pops was offered an education out east, the three of us fell apart.”

“Yeah, so what?”Zane was uninterested, finding the cowboy’s bulge as the only thing appealing about Harry. Zane had a bad habit of checking out other men when he was single.

“Well,” Harry continued, dragging Zane into a stable. “When yer pops saw how off-track he had raised ya, he called up Treyton and I to put a little country in ya. We knew we were gonna have fun, but when ya brought along that Irish laddy too, that was just a cherry for the top.”

Zane shook his head in bewilderment. Who was Harry talking about? He had obviously come here alone.

“See, originally Treyton wanted you as part of his ranch, but when yer boyfriend came he decided to pass the sweeter treat off to me. I think yeu’ll really-”

“Woah, slow down a moment,” Zane rubbed his temples, losing track of everything.

“Ah, I fergot about the mental stuff,” Harry contemplated, thinking about how to explain everything. He had to find a way to explain it all to the boy.

“Remember how everyone in the stands was segregated by their clothin’ color?”

“Yeah?” Zane clearly remembered, as he had stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn’t understand why this was important now.

“Well, they’re all branded to some ranch, that’s why they stick to one color.”

Harry’s answer made sense to him, but Zane was still visibly perplexed.

“Look at Kae- I mean Clayton Sherman,” Harry started. “He works for yer uncle’s ranch. What color to they wear?”

“Blue?”

“Exactly!” Harry slapped Zane’s back, knocking the wind out of the other man.

“Every color here is for someone’s ranch. Blue is Welch, green is Smith, white for Johnson-”

“How... how many are there?” Zane stuttered, the pieces gradually coming together.

“10, ‘cluding myself,” Harry responded proudly.

“So what you’re saying,” Zane reasoned. “Is that these ranch owner’s ‘brand’ people to be part of their ‘ranch,’ claiming them as their property?”

“Eeyup.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Thought you oughta know beforehand.”Zane was about to ask what that meant, but before he could speak, something clicked together in his head.

“You own one of these ‘ranches’?”

“The stunnin’ Mueller Ranch.”

“And what color are you?”

Zane already knew the answer, hoping to distract the other man, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge Harry’s launch. The older cowboy tackled Zane to the ground, the stench of hay and manure infiltrating Zane’s lungs as his face graced the dirt floor. Zane, not one to be athletic, surprisingly twisted himself out of Harry’s grasp, rolling sideways before getting up and escaping. He started running to his truck, desperately shuffling through his pockets to find the keys. Frantically scurrying away, he didn’t even notice his foot slip right out from beneath him.

“Gotcha!”

Harry cackled heartily as he looked upon his captured prey, who was clawing at the rope helplessly. It seemed like a scene from an old western cartoon: the fool stepping into the lasso and getting caught. Harry had already tied the other end of the rope to a stable post, approaching Zane with a face gleaming with malice. Zane trembled in fear, giving up hope on flight and nervously accepting the fight. As Harry took the final steps, Zane's cowered timidly as he gave up. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew something was going to be over. Then, to Zane’s pure surprise, a hand stretched out to help him up.

“Come on,” Harry welcomed warmly.

Zane’s heart stopped. Was Harry… serious? Was this all some prank just to scare him? Zane didn’t know what was going on, but he decided that once he got out of this mess he’d stay in the sweet shelter of his uncle’s ranch. After the week was over, he was never coming back to this pathetic town, or Wyoming for that sake.

“Are ya gonna take it or what?”

Zane sighed, clasping his hand into Harry’s. As soon as they connected, Harry’s flowery smile instantly twisted back into the thorny smirk.

“It’s just too easy.”

Before Zane could react, Harry flipped the other’s hand over and tapped the black stamp. Instantaneously, time stopped around them. The whole moment felt electric, almost as if everything in existence had shifted, but it was simply only a light touch. Zane gasped as he got up, struggling to speak.

“What… what did you do?”

“Eh, nothin’ yeu’ll remember,” Harry chimed. Zane investigated the back of his hand, noticing a slight pulse as the black stamp began to fade. He was shocked to see the color slowly draining from it into his veins, noticing the same inky shade pumping into his bloodstream.

“Oh no,” Zane cried as a small crackling came from his knuckles. It sounded similar to an orchestra of crickets, the hundreds of minuscule pops signifying the growth of his average hands. Zane’s palms grew thicker at a sluggish pace, bloating with meat as his fingers grew into calloused sausages. Zane groaned in pain while his hands became paws, now feeling like he was wearing bulky, leather mittens instead of skin.

The raven color flew through Zane’s arms, gliding across his chest before venturing vertically. To Zane’s dismay, his unused tendons stretched intensely, expanding as they made room for the arriving muscular tissue. Biceps proudly emerged as their brotherly triceps erupted from underneath Zane’s flesh, causing him to writhe. His forearms gained some meat too before a tan wave swept across the surface of his skin. The classic shade darkened Zane’s pale skin as a field of hair was planted on top. Before long, Zane’s arms looked like an avid gym-goer’s, yet for some reason his mind told him they were from the farm.

After improving the upper appendages, the ink moved downwards, cutting through Zane’s chest. His deltoids pushed outwards as his collarbone expanded, barely extending his traps as his torso began to shift into the shape of a “T”. His pectorals ballooned outwards, forming into meaty packages with two perky nipples, obviously erect underneath his shrinking tee. After the pecs squared out, Zane moaned as a sturdy six pack pounded in, each abdominal packing a punch as it pushed forward. A light covering of fur erupted from his chest while the tan wave made sure to paint itself once more. Zane began panting for air violently, each breath sucking in a little body fat. It didn’t remove all of his fat, but enough to maintain something barely below a body-builder’s standards. His shirt also stitched itself back together, having been torn apart seconds before. The cheap concert tee grew black as it painted itself back onto Zane’s torso, the dusky color hiding its overuse.

Following were Zane’s legs, as the black blood dove deeper. His juicy thighs began to tighten, retaining their above-average size, but now containing more muscle than meat. After his quadriceps had hardened, his knees cracked violently, stretching out Zane’s calves to max him out at 6’2. The bottom of his sweatpants violently tore to reveal two meaty forelegs, both veiny, firm, and covered in a lathering of hair. His pale skin darkened as his legs were covered in a loose denim, locking away his lower appendages.

With Zane’s lower body now covered in an old pair of Wranglers, the ink took hold of his feet, which were currently snug in a pair of Sperry’s boat shoes, the only shoes he had brought with him. In an instant, the leather and cloth tore apart in the middle, blossoming open like a flower to reveal gargantuan Size 15 feet. Zane was appalled to see the hairy, meaty, and awfully rank monsters attached below his ankles, but to his luck, the shredded shoes began to reform. The leather gracefully became cowhide as it expertly resowed itself around Zane’s feet, traveling up to his midcalves to create two authentic cowboy boots. Zane however didn’t feel relieved, in fact all he could feel was the sweat of his massive feet filling up the shoes. His socks hadn’t reformed, so it appeared he was going commando in his boots.

The ink swam up to the top, touching up on any missed spots. After filling in Zane’s pits with a hearty amount of hair, the black blood filled in his neck, adding girth to support the maturing Adam’s apple. Vocal chords stretched as the Zane’s register reached new depths, causing him to violently cough and sputter as he adjusted, allowing the ink to shoot upwards. Zane cried out in pain as the black blood clutched his skull, pulling apart at the bones to give him a thicker head. While the baby fat was removed, his jaw was stretched horizontally, giving him a prominent chin just large enough for a cleft. His lips shrunk while his nose expanded, filling in along with his expanding brows. Zane’s eyes shifted from a bland brown to easy-going blue as his hair shaved away, leaving a no-effort buzzcut where a manicured mane once laid. The vibrant green color rapidly faded, giving way to a light brown that easily shaded in Zane’s new haircut and thickening chinstrap. Across his body, his skin tightened barely as his body packed on a few extra years. It wasn’t a noticeable difference, but Zane no longer had the same glow of young adulthood.

“Ah Lordee,” Zane grumbled, getting up as his language center reorganized itself. “What’d y’all do to me?”

“Well, there’s still one more thing to go,” Harry replied, watching Zane shakily ascend. When the other man stood straight, he now faced eye to eye with the other cowboy.

“What in tarnation is left?”

“Just give it a sec-”

“I ain’t got no time for games, I’m gettin’-”

Suddenly, Zane felt an electrifying pulse throughout his groin, the rest of the ink finally reaching his reproductive center. The black blood infiltrated his testicles, killing off the weak sperm as it overtook his pouch. Zane’s balls bloated as they became heavy with cowboy sperm, dropping dramatically due to the increased weight. The ink traveled into his medium-sized penis, engorging it almost instantly. At first, Zane felt like he was having the most powerful boner of his life, but he began to realize his dick was in fact growing. His member began pulsating with the foreign blood, elongating as it grew to a mighty 10 inches. In the back end, his buttocks blew up into two massive, hardened globes, pushing against the confines of one end of the jeans while his pouch took the other.

Losing all sense of reality, Zane furiously palmed himself through his jeans, the feeling of his newly-materialized boxer shorts rubbing against his sensitive tip driving him crazy. Precumming in seconds due to the pent up stress, Zane was too horny to realize what he was doing, or what he was losing. His prized Yale education evaporated like powdered milk into his ballsack. Next went his East Coast upbringing, his progressive ideas and urban lifestyle disappearing into the void that was his semen. In tow was his homosexuality, which was thrown into the fire inside his testicles. Even a sizeable chunk of his IQ was tossed into the mixing pot. Everything about Zane was sucked down into his sperm, ready to be expelled permanently.

“C’mon boy,” Harry shouted eagerly. “Ya know what ya want to do!”

Zane grunted as he groped himself once more, feeling a burst of static electricity coarse across his body. Grabbing a nearby fence, Zane steadied himself against the stable wall as he felt the rush coming.

“Wow-ie!”

A huge load of sperm coated the front of the Wranglers, causing the area beneath the giant belt buckle to darken dramatically. Not bothering to clean himself up, the young cowboy basked in the afterglow of ejaculation, truly content with himself. He adjusted his pouch one last time, with his other hand still secured to the fence.

“There ya go, that felt better, didn’t it?” Harry slapped a hand around the other man, securing the black cowboy hat on top of the other’s head while doing so.

“Ah yeah, Sir, that one was a goodie,” the other replied, the two slowly making their way back to the main grounds.

“Tell me, Wayne, where the wife and kids at? Shouldn’t they be at the rodeo?”

“They are, Sir,” Wayne responded quickly. “They’re sittin’ near the back of the bleachers with the other ranch families.”

“Ah I see.”

10.5 SECONDS! PETE’S WOWED US AGAIN FOLKS!

Harry paused in front of the main gate, shuffling his hand through his pocket to find his keys and some Copenhagen chew.

“I best be headin’ out,” he stated. “We got a long day at the ranch tomorrow, lots of hay bale shipments to move out.”

“Sounds good, Sir.” Wayne extended his hand out, “I’ll see y’all bright and early tomorrow mornin’.”

“See y’all then, Wayne.”

The two vigorously shook hands, with Harry delighted to see the disappearance of a certain black stamp. They waved each other off as Harry walked back to his truck. After watching his boss leave, Wayne was elated to go back to his family, with one beautiful wife and three handsome sons to entertain. Turning 29 in a matter of days (his birthday shared with Pete Sherman’s, or “Little Petey” as the town called him), Wayne had already accomplished his major goal in life, growing the Woods family. It only seemed like yesterday that he and his wife were high school sweethearts, but now they owned their own little home with three rowdy chaps running around everywhere. It was going to be Wayne’s job to teach them the right morals just like how his father taught him. Over the years, he’d teach them about Christianity, voting Red, being country men, and how to swoon ladies. But, with the oldest one only in first grade, he thought it might be best to wait a bit longer.

Inspecting the bleachers, it didn’t take Wayne long to find his family. He ran up to them and sat down immediately, ready to keep enjoying the show. He quickly explained to his wife what his boss had wanted him for, saying Harry had just wanted an update on the coming fourth child. Wayne then kissed his wife passionately before giving his attention back to the rodeo, applauding as the last participant finished off the night.

10.3 SECONDS! CHRIS ENDED THE NIGHT STRONG!

ANOTHER GREAT YEAR WITH A DARN GREAT CROWD! THANKS FOR COMIN’ OUT FOLKS, WE’LL SEE Y’ALL AGAIN NEXT YEAR!