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✦ multiverse writer. ✦

✦ black / poc reader centered ✦

✦ sex. money. feels. die. ✦

━━━━━━━━━━━୨ৎ━━━━━━━━━━━

CURRENT PROJECT:

✦ TERRITORY FT CONNIE SPRINGER.

plug! connie.

attack on titan college au.

ongoing: Chapter 2.

✦ KILLING ME SOFTLY FT ONYAKOPON.

rapper! onyakopon.

attack on titan modern au.

ongoing: Chapter 3.

━━━━━━━━━━━୨ৎ━━━━━━━━━━━

✦ MASTER-LIST ✦

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requests: closed.

CHAPTER 02.

𐔌 FAIR WARNINGS:

-language, drug use, violence, slow burn, sexual themes, modern au.

𐔌 PARING:

plug ! connie × plug! poc! y/n

𐔌 Wc:1.2k

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

LOCATION: SASHA’S APT.

3:30PM

𖦹

—THE ROOM SLOWLY GOT much louder. Everybody started talking at once, asking Sasha where Connie was and when he was gonna be here. I just sat back and watched. I didn't understand the obsession with this Connie nigga. Everybody talked about him like he was a fucking saint.

I was intrigued, but I just listened as people spoke about this man so highly. A part of me found it amusing because sooner or later, that was gonna be me. Like I said, I didn't come to LSU to lay around, I came to make money.

"He really this important?" I asked.

A couple people laughed.

"No."

"Yes."

"Depends who you ask."

"See?" I pointed around the room. "Y'all can't even agree."

Before anybody could reply, the front door opened. The room went silent for about a second before everybody started talking again.

"Here he go."

"Took your time, huh?"

I looked toward the door.

At six-foot-something with broad shoulders and tattoos crawling up both arms, Connie didn't look like somebody who needed to announce himself. His hair was cut low, almost military short, the blonde making his green eyes stand out even more. The kind of eyes that looked lazy but somehow still managed to feel piercing.He walked through the door with a small smirk on his face, moving through the crowd like he belonged there. Not in a disrespectful way either. He spoke to people as he passed, dapping some up and exchanging a few words with others.

I looked him up and down. Not in a weird way, just observing. He wore a white tee fitted just enough to show the muscle underneath. Dark jeans hung over a pair of wheat Timbs, and expensive jewelry caught the light every time he moved his hands. I expected somebody loud. Somebody obnoxious. Somebody who spent all day reminding people who he was. Instead, Connie looked... normal? Yet somehow half the room kept glancing in his direction like he was a celebrity. I hated that I understood it immediately.

For somebody everyone swore ran LSU , Connie wasn't doing too much. Not yelling , not hoping on tables, not demanding attention from anybody, but by the time this nigga took 4 steps he already had a blunt and something to drink in the hand. Yet the whole rook had shifted around him. I just say back and watched with my blunt in my mouth. He laughed at some stupid shit Jean said showing his top grill that shined beautifully under the lights , dabbed up Eren and nodded at Mikasa. Every few seconds he would be stopped to dab someone up or get asked a question. He just flowed through it like he had all the time in the room.

"You're staring." I looked over at Sasha

"Bitch I am not staring." I say laughing

"You literally are." "I'm observing , yall speak of this man like he paying everybody tuition." She laughs , "Nah that's just Connie." I was about to ask what the fuck that even meant but before I could Connie's eyes landed on me. Just for a second, not long enough to mean anything , not long enough for anyone to notice but before he looked away I noticed something. He had been talking to everyone in that room but me and judging by the small smirk he had on his face before he looked away away..he knew too.

It irritated me , but not for the reason other would think. I sat back on the couch smoking still observing. The more I watched him, the more confused I got. Now don't get me wrong I'm not the flashy type, but nothing about him screamed "Campus King" A few minutes later Jean said something that made the entire room laugh. Connie threw his head back laughing too before dropping down into the empty chair across from me.

I almost laughed. Of all the seats in this apartment, this nigga sat right in front of me. His attention stayed on the conversation around him, but every now and then I'd catch him glancing in my direction before looking away again. Not enough for anybody else to notice. Just enough for me to notice. "Yo Connie." "Hm?"

"Meet Sasha friend." My eyes immediately rolled.Here we go. Connie looked over at me fully this time. Up close his eyes were even greener than I thought they were. He leaned back in the chair."You the uhh..." He saying snapping his fingers softly as if he's trying to remember a conversation he had. "The girl from Chicago right ?" He say giving me a soft smile and leaning toward me from his chair still leaving some sort of distant between us. His voice was calm, a little deeper than I expected. I raised an eyebrow.

"And you the famous Connie Springer?" The corner of his mouth twitched. "Famous?"

"That's what everybody keep telling me." A couple people around us laughed.

"Nah don't let him act all humble and shit now" Jean says slightly shoving Connie's shoulder. Connie shook his head before looking back at me. "So , Chicago right?" "Yep" I reply simply putting my blunt out in the ashtray in front of me. He looked at me for a few seconds , like he was trying to figure me out. Then he nodded. "Yea you definitely the girl they been talking about." That caught my attention.

Everybody? I'd only been here a day. "And why exactly people talking about me?" I asked.

The smirk returned. "I think you already know why."

"Do I?" "Mhm." "Nah I don't , enlighten me." A couple people around us started paying attention to the conversation. Connie leaned back in his chair taking a pull from his wood before pointing it my way.

"Word on the street says Little miss Chicago came in making moves before she even put her bags down." A few people laughed. I looked at Sasha "This bitch talk too much."

"I ain't say nothing." She says putting her hands up. "Mhhm." Connie shook his head. "Wasn't Sasha." Oh? I tilted my head. "So people just gossiping about me for fun now?"

"Nah," he said. "People gossip about anything new." The way he said it made me feel like he wasn't talking about LSU. He was talking about himself. For a second we just looked at each other. Not in a flirty way. Not even in a friendly way. More like two people trying to figure out whether the other was competition. Then Jean ruined it. "So who got better gas?" The entire room erupted. "Oh my God." "Jean, shut the fuck up." "I'm serious."

I dropped my head and laughed. Connie laughed too.

"See?" Jean pointed between us. "That's the real question."

Connie looked over at me. I looked right back at him. And for the first time since he walked through that door, his smile looked less amused and a little more interested.

"Guess we'll find out."

The conversation eventually moved on to something else. Thank God. Jean found somebody else to annoy, Eren and Mikasa started arguing about some dumb shit, and before long everybody was back to smoking, drinking, and talking like Connie and I hadn't just become the room's entertainment. I checked the time on my phone and nearly groaned.

2:37 A.M.

"Yeah, I'm gone." Sasha looked over from the couch. "Already?"

"I'm tired." "You old." "Girl fuck you , I drove twelve hours." I say rolling my eyes "Okay that's fair."  I laughed and pushed myself off the couch, grabbing my bag.

A few people told me bye as I made my way toward the door. I laughed and pushed myself off the couch, grabbing my bag. A few people called out goodbye as I made my way toward the door. The apartment was starting to thin out anyway. People were leaving in groups, searching for keys and arguing over who was sober enough to drive. Just as I reached the door, I heard somebody behind me. "Ayee." I turned around.  Connie was leaning against the kitchen counter, drink still in his hand. "Yeah?"nHis eyes narrowed slightly like he was debating whether he wanted to say something. "Be safe getting home 12 hot tn." That was it. No flirting. No slick comment. No smile. Just that. For some reason it caught me off guard.

I nodded once.  The corner of his mouth twitched. Before I could reply somebody called his name from across the apartment.

"Connie!"mHe looked away from me. When I looked back a second later, he was already walking off. Weird ass nigga. I shook my head and left.

By the time I got back to my apartment, showered, and crawled into bed, the sun was only a few hours away from coming up.

The last thing I thought about before falling asleep wasn't LSU.

It wasn't classes. It wasn't money.(kinda)

It was a pair of green eyes and a smirk that was starting to irritate me more than it should.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

thanks for reading.

♡ likes appreciated.

↻ reblogs keep this story alive.

✎ comments & asks are always welcome.

until chapter 03.

CHAPTER 01.

𐔌 FAIR WARNINGS:

-language, drug use, violence, slow burn, sexual themes, modern au.

𐔌 PAIRING.

plug! connie × plug! poc! y/n

𐔌WC: 1.4k

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ 𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

LOCATION: LSU OFF CAMPUS APTS.

3:30PM

꩜

- THE FIRST TIME I heard Connie Springers name , I ignored it. The second I heard his name , I rolled my eyes. By the tenth time I heard his name I was ready to tell everyone to shut the fuck up.

Apparently Connie was this. Apparently Connie was that. Apparently Connie ran LSU.

I guess I gotta see this shit for myself.

Moving from Chicago to Baton Rouge wasn't on my bucket list, but here I was standing outside my apartment with two duffel bags, a backpack, and enough product to pay my rent. The Louisiana heat was disrespectful. I shut my car door and looked up at the apartment building.

New city. New school. New money.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Sasha.

-

📲.

"Hello?"

"Bitch, are you here yet?" she yelled before I could even say anything.

I laughed. "Girl, I just got here."

"Good. Hurry up and unpack. Everybody wanna meet you tonight."

Everybody?

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't even know nobody."

"You know me."

"Unfortunately."

"Girl, shut up."

I could practically hear her rolling her eyes through the phone.

"And wear something cute."

The line went dead.

I shook my head and shoved my phone back into my pocket. As I grabbed my bags, a group of students walked past me. One of them laughed and said, "Nah, ask Connie."

Connie.

Again.

I paused for a second before continuing toward my apartment. Maybe LSU really was obsessed with this man. Either way, I wasn't here for him.

I was here for me.

-

As I drag my bags up the steps and fumble with my keys before unlocking the door, I step into the apartment. It was quiet, empty, how I liked it. No roommates, no people touching my stuff, no nosy RA knocking on my door every week. Just me.

I drop my bag onto the couch and look around the apartment. It was nothing crazy but definitely better than the dorms. Two bedrooms, a nice kitchen, and a living room was all I needed. It was enough space to make me feel at home.

I walked into my bedroom and plopped myself on the new bed. For the first time all day it was quiet. No family, no friends, no Chicago, just me and this new city.

I stared at the ceiling for a second before sitting back up. I didn't come to lay around, I came to make money. I made my way to grab my product bag and check all is good when my phone rings.

-

📲.

"Sasha."

"Girl, what?" I answered.

"What you mean 'what'? Are you still in that apartment?" Voice filled with attitude as always.

"I got here not even thirty minutes ago."

"And? Hurry up. Everybody waiting on you."

I rolled my eyes. "You keep saying everybody. Who is everybody?"

"My friends."

"Which ones?"

"All of them."

I groaned .

"Don't do that. They cool."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. Now get dressed and come on."

The line went dead before I could respond.

-

I push myself up from checking the bags and make my way into the bathroom. After a quick shower I throw on a quick black 2 piece and my Marni slides. I throw the product bag over my shoulders and make my way out the door. The drive to Sasha's apartment wasn't long. Baton Rouge was definitely different from Chicago. Less noise, less traffic. Everything felt slower.

A couple minutes later, I pulled into her complex. Before I could even get out the car, Sasha was already standing outside waiting on me.

"About damn time," she said as soon as I walked up.

I laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Missed you too."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed my hand. "C'mon. Everybody inside."

There she go with that "everybody" shit again.

Sasha practically dragged me through the front door before I could complain. The apartment was already full. "FDO" played through a speaker somewhere in the living room while groups of people sat around talking, laughing, smoking, and minding they business.

The second we walked in, a few heads turned our way.

"There she go," Sasha announced.

A girl sitting on the couch smiled. "So this the girly from Chicago?"

"The one and only," Sasha replied.

I shook my head and softly laughed . "Y'all making me sound famous."

"Nah," one of the guys laughed. "Sasha just been talking about you for months."

I just shook my head and laughed "Damn , so yall knew me before i knew yall"

"Basically" The girl from the couch says.

The next hour flew by faster than I expected. Everybody was cool, way cooler than I thought they'd be. We sat around talking, passing blunts after blunt, listening to music, and laughing about random shit. Most of the stories were from parties, bad hookups, and people getting caught doing shit they ain't have no business doing. I was starting to remember names too.

The girl from the couch was Mikasa. The blonde one who barely talked was Annie. The guy who kept making everybody laugh was Jean. And the one currently trying to convince everybody he could cook was Eren.

"You can't cook," Annie said without even looking up from her phone.

"I can cook."

"You almost burned down the apartment."

"That happened one time."

"It happened twice."

Everybody started laughing.

"You got any papers?" Jean asked, patting his pockets.

"Nah." The random sitting close replied "Damn."

I leaned forward and unzipped my bag.

"What kind you use?" I say looking up from my bag. Everybody got quiet for a second. I pulled out a pack and tossed it to him.

"Good looking." He said catching the papers. "No problem."

As I zipped my bag back up, Mikasa's eyes narrowed.

"Why you got so much stuff in there?" She asked

I looked down. Shit. Between my product ,the papers, grinder, smell-proof bags, and scale, it wasn't exactly hard to figure out.

"You smoke a lot?" Eren asked. I laughed.

"Nah." I say leaning back on the couch and crossing my legs

"Then what's all that for?" Sasha started smiling before I could answer.

"Oh lord." I say rolling my eyes

"What?" Jean asked.

Sasha pointed at me. "Y/N serves."  The room went quiet for about two seconds. Then everybody started talking at once.

"Since when?" "Girl, where?" "Chicago really different."

I laughed and leaned back further into the couch.

"Y'all acting like I just confessed to murder."

"Cause you been sitting here this whole time acting regular," Jean said.

"I am regular."

"Nah," Eren laughed. "You got a scale in your bag. That's not regular."

"Fair enough."

"How long you been doing it?" Mikasa asked.

"Long enough."

"That ain't answer the question."

"It answered enough of it." A few people laughed while Sasha shook her head. "LSU got another hustler now," Jean joked.

"Another?" I asked. The second the word left my mouth, everybody started laughing.

"Oh brother."

"Here we go." I looked between all of them.

"What?"

"You know exactly who the other one is," Eren said.

"Connie?" I say rolling my eyes and taking a breath

"Connie," everybody answered at the same time.

I threw my head back against the couch. "Yo, is that all y'all talk about?"

"Nah," Jean said. "But he been the only one moving around campus for a minute." "And now you here."

I raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So this should be interesting." Before I could ask what that was supposed to mean, Sasha's phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down at the screen and immediately smiled.

"Oh lord," Annie muttered from the corner. "What?" I asked. Sasha looked up from her phone. "Connie just got back in town." The room suddenly got a lot louder.

The room suddenly got a lot louder. "Tell him pull up."

"Watch, he gon' start complaining."

"He always complaining."

"I ain't seen him in like a week."

I looked around the room as everybody started talking over each other. You would've thought a celebrity was on the way.m"Y'all really love this man," I muttered.

"Love?" Jean laughed. "Wrong word."

"Then why everybody acting like this?"

"You'll see." I rolled my eyes and leaned back into the couch. At this point I was convinced LSU had a shrine dedicated to him somewhere on campus. Maybe he was cool. Maybe he was annoying. Maybe he was both.

-

𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬[𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡]:

✦ 𝗮 𝘇𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀,

𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗽𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀.

-

𝗽𝗹𝘂𝗴!𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 𝘅 𝗽𝗹𝘂𝗴!𝗽𝗼𝗰!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝙄𝙉 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙤-𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙪𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙢?

-

TERRITORY FT. CONNIE SPRINGER

Coming soon…

〔 SERIES 〕

⟡ KILLING ME SOFTLY

┆ Chapter One

┆ Chapter Two

┆ Chapter Three

──────────────

⟡ TERRITORY (COMING SOON.)

┆ Chapter One

┆ Chapter Two

┆ Chapter Three

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

〔 ONESHOTS 〕

┆ COMING SOON.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

〔 CHARACTER INFORMATION〕

┆KILLING ME SOFTLY CAST.

┆ TERRIORY CAST.

☆ CHAPTER III: SESSION PT.1:

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

☆TIME: 11:35 P.M.

☆LOCATION: EASTSIDE WEARHOUSE.

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

# Y/N !

- I SAT BACK as the stage curtain closed. The bass bled through the walls again. Somebody outside yelled for another bottle. A stylist rushed past carrying a duffel bag bigger than she was.  I looked toward the curtain he'd disappeared through. Cocky ass. A small laugh slipped out before I could stop it. He really thought another performance was finna change my mind. The blunt burned low between my fingers. I took one last pull before crushing the roach into the ashtray sitting on the coffee table.

The room vibrated. The DJ's voice echoed through the speakers. "ATLANTAAAAAA!" The crowd answered so loud, dust drifted from one of the steel beams overhead. Ja'Dore walked back through the curtains a second later, camera around her neck.

"You got your shots?" "Mhm." She flipped through a few pictures on the back of the camera. "These actually hard."

I leaned over just enough to look. Ony stood under red lights. Mic in one hand. Other hand pointed toward the crowd. Smoke wrapped around him like somebody planned the picture. "...Damn"

"I know." She grinned. "I snapped." She kept scrolling through the photos. Pictures of the crowd. Connie yelling at security. She rested the camera in her lap. "So..."

"What?" "You gone work with him?" I looked toward the curtain again. Outside, the DJ was introducing his last set. People started screaming before he even said ONY's name. "...Maybe." "Maybe?" "I ain't agreeing to shit yet," I say with a slight laugh. "Girl..."

"I'm saying..." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "He got something." She nodded.

"I seen that." "But..." I looked down at my hands. "He ain't there yet." Before Ja'Dore could answer, "ONYYYYYY!" The warehouse damn near blew up. She looked toward the curtain. "Shit..." I didn't answer. Instead... I just listened. Even without seeing him... I could tell exactly when he stepped back on stage. The crowd got louder. The beat dropped. His deep voice cut clean through the speakers. Confident but composed. Like this was exactly where he belonged. I closed my eyes for a second. This time...I wasn't listening like everybody else. I listened to the beat, the pockets he chose not to rap over, the pauses, the ad-libs. The way the instrumental carried him instead of challenging him.

Same world. Different song. I opened my eyes. "Yeah..." I muttered to myself. "He can do more than this." Ja'Dore looked over. "You say something?"

"Nah." I leaned back into the couch again. "Just thinking." The music carried through the walls for another fifteen minutes.

Every now and then the crowd erupted so loud the empty bottles rattled across the table. Then...Silence. Not real silence. Just enough to tell me the song ended. A second later—"MAKE SOME NOISE FOR ONYYYYYY!"

The warehouse erupted one last time. I heard footsteps. A lot of 'em. People talking over each other. Somebody laughing. The backstage curtain jerked open; Ony walked in first. Sweat clung to his forehead. His black tee was darker around the collar. A towel rested across the back of his neck while he pulled an in-ear monitor out with one hand. "Fuck..." He exhaled hard. "...Now I'm tired." Connie walked in behind him, already talking.

"I told you they was gon' lose they damn mind," Connie said, plopping himself down on the couch. "They almost ain't let me leave the stage."

"They still outside chanting yo' name." "I know." Ony laughed, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the cooler. The plastic cracked the second he twisted the cap off. He drank half of it without saying a word. Then...His eyes found mine. A slow grin pulled across his face, displaying the gold grill in his mouth. "So..." He screwed the cap back onto the bottle. "Change your mind?" I looked at him for a second before shaking my head. "Maybe." He laughed.

"Damn." I shrugged. "Don't look so disappointed." He leaned against the table, towel still hanging around his neck.

"You smiling more than you were thirty minutes ago." I blinked.

"...Was I?" I said, tilting my head to the side slightly with a light smile. He pointed at me.See." I rolled my eyes. "Don't start." Connie looked between us before laughing. "Bro..." He pointed at Ony. "You been trying to get this girl to smile all night"

"I did." Ony looked at me. A crooked grin spread across his face. "I got 2." I shook my head, fighting another smile. "Barely." He laughed. "Count it anyway." Connie looked between us and clapped his hands together. "So..." He pointed between the two of us. "Y'all finna work together or keep flirting in circles?"

"I wasn't flirting," I said. "I was," Ony answered without missing a beat. I looked over at him. "...You don't get tired?"

"Nah." Connie laughed. "Aight, enough." He pushed himself off the couch. "We still gotta load equipment." Ony looked at me.

"You got somewhere to be?" I checked the time on my phone. 11:47 P.M. "No." "My studio is twenty minutes from here." I raised an eyebrow. "You inviting me?" "I'm inviting the producer."

"And if the producer says no?" He shrugged. "Then I'll keep making comfortable music." A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "Damn." "There go smile number three," he said. I rolled my eyes. "You counting?" "I'm keeping score." Ja'Dore stood up, swinging her camera over her shoulder. "I can catch an Uber home if y'all finna work." I looked over at her. "You sure?"

"Mhm." She smiled. "I got enough pictures." Connie snapped his fingers. "Perfect." He looked at Ony. "I'll take care of all this." Then he looked at me. "You'll be good with him." Ony threw a towel at Connie. "Nigga why you say it like I'm dangerous?" " Connie laughed and shrugged his shoulders.  The room slowly emptied. Artists filtered out. Promoters carried speakers past the door. Someone killed the backstage lights, leaving only the yellow lamp over the couch and the glow from the hallway. For the first time since I'd walked into the warehouse...It was quiet. Ony grabbed his keys off the table. "You ready?" I looked at him for a second. Then stood up. "...Lead the way."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Bet." As soon as we stepped out the backstage door, the noise hit all over again. The hallway was worse than it had been earlier. Fans pressed against the barricades trying to peek backstage. Promoters rushed by carrying speakers. Somebody yelled for security. Another artist walked past with three people trailing behind him. The air smelled like sweat, smoke, and cheap liquor. “Aye, ONY!” “Bro! Good set!” “Lemme get a picture!” Before I could even figure out where the fuck I was supposed to walk, a warm hand wrapped around mine. “C’mon.” I looked down. “…Nigga.” He didn’t even look back. “If I let you walk by yourself, you gone get trampled.”

“I can walk.” “I know.” He said, shrugging as he pulled me through the crowd. “I just ain’t letting you.” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it. He laughed, weaving us through the crowd. He didn’t let go of my hand until a security guard pushed one of the exit doors open. The music sounded muffled behind the metal doors.

“…Damn.” He looked at our hands like he had just remembered. “My fault.” He let go. My fingers felt strangely empty.

I flexed my hand once before sliding it into my jacket pocket. “Mhm.” That crooked smile spread across his face again. “You ain’t tell me to let go.” I looked over at him. “Too late, you already did.”

He unlocked a black Jeep parked a few rows down, the headlights flashing twice. “After you.” I climbed in without a word. He shut my door before walking around to the driver’s side. The second the engine started, the radio started playing softly. “You hungry?” I buckled my seatbelt, settling back into the leather seat. "...A little."

"Bet." He nodded as he'd already made up his mind. "I know a spot." I glanced over at him. "You always decide where people eat?" "Nah." A grin pulled across his face as he backed out of the parking space. "Only the pretty producers." I looked out the windshield to hide the smile trying to creep onto my face. "...You recycle that line?"

He laughed. "Damn." "So that's a yes?" "I literally just made it up." “Mhm," I say, picking up my phone. "You don't believe me?" "I don't know you. I definitely don’t believe you.” He rested one hand on the steering wheel, looking over at me for half a second. "You gone, though."

"Gone what?" I look over, confused. "Know me." I raised an eyebrow. "We got a whole session ahead of us, baby." He said as he sped down the road, tatted arms peeking through as he switched lanes.

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

Felt like dropping this little gem for yall tn enjoyyyy!

Chapter 2: WEARHOUSE.

☆LOCATION: EASTSIDE WEARHOUSE.

☆TIME: 10:30 P.M.

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

# ONY!

-THE BASS WAS DAMN NEAR shaking the walls before I made it backstage. "Move nigga!" Somebody shoved past me carrying another speaker. "Damn, watch where you—"

"Nah, put that bitch over there!" Three different conversations were happening at once. The DJ was yelling for another extension cord. Security was arguing with somebody trying to sneak backstage. Two girls were recording TikToks in front of the green room door like this wasn't a fucking warehouse. Connie... That nigga was in the middle of all of it.

"Bro, if y'all don't stop touching this damn table!" he yelled, snatching the laptop before somebody knocked it over. "Matter fact, everybody back the fuck up!" I laughed under my breath, leaning against the wall. Same shit. Different night. I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone. 10:31 P.M. Show started in less than thirty minutes.

"Aye!" I looked up. Connie was weaving me over to the table , one phone pressed against his ear while another sat in his hand. When I got to him , he was ending the call with a sigh. "These promoters finna piss me off" I smirked.

"You say that every show." I say lighting the wood I been holding for just before the show. "'Cause every show they do some dumb shit." He shoved his phone back into his pocket before looking me over. "You straight?" "I'm straight."

"You nervous?" I looked at him like he was crazy. As the room got cloudy from the smoke. "Nigga... for what?" A grin spread across his face. "Aight, had to make sure." He dapped me up before looking around the room again.

"Warehouse already filling up." I glanced through the cracked backstage door. He wasn't lying. The place was damn near packed already. People squeezed shoulder to shoulder. Smoke floating through the air. Liquor bottles on every table.

Somebody had already started chanting my name before I even touched the stage. A smile pulled at the corner of my lips. "This what we do it for ain't it?" Connie nodded.

"This ain't even the best part." He pulled his phone back out, tapping the screen a couple times before turning it toward me. "That producer I was telling you about..." "Hm?"

"She texted back." I looked down at the screen.

HOLOWAYPRODUCTION:

Send an address.

"That's her?" "Yeah." I handed the phone back. "You think she pulling up?" He shrugged. "Shit... I hope so." I chuckled. "If she don't... she don't." Another roar erupted from the crowd outside. The DJ had started hyping everybody up. My heartbeat picked up with it. Not from nerves. From excitement. This feeling...I'd never get tired of it. Connie slapped my shoulder. "Come on." "It's time." I pushed myself off the wall, putting my wood in the ashtray before walking out. The lights dimmed. The crowd got louder. I wrapped my hand around the microphone. "Aight..." A grin pulled across my face as The second the spotlight hit... "ONYYYY!" The whole damn warehouse shook. I looked out over the crowd, damn near shoulder to shoulder. Niggas posted up with the cups in the air. Shorties standing on couches. Smoke floating all through the warehouse. Yeah...

This what the fuck I'm talking 'bout.I grabbed the mic, looking around for a second before shaking my head. "Aye Atlanta..." The crowd got louder. "I said what the fuck goin' on, Atlanta?!" "YEEEEAAAHHH!" I laughed. "Y'all got that same energy all night or what?" The DJ looked over at me. "We gone start with some hype shit tonight"

He dropped the beat. *PLAY #1 FAN BY BABYFACE RAY*

Soon as the beat hit... It was up. I ain't even have to say shit. The crowd already knew every damn word. Every ad-lib. Every pause. "Bitch, you want me or the lifestyle? You know it's money in the bag!"  I pointed the mic out toward the crowd.

"Y'all got me?"  "YEAAAAAAA" The crowd got louder. "Ight den , Let's turn this bitch up."

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

# Y/N!

-I CROSSED MY ARMS, my eyes never leaving the stage. "...He got the crowd." The second the beat dropped, the entire warehouse erupted. People were screaming every word before he even opened his mouth. Phones shot into the air. Liquor splashed out of cups. The floor damn near shook underneath my feet. "SHIT!" Ja'Dore half yelled half laughed beside me, already lifting her camera. "These folks love this nigga."

"Mhm." I couldn't even disagree. I wasn't only listening to the music. I was watching him. How he moved. How he worked the crowd. Every time he stepped to one side of the stage, the audience leaned with him like they couldn't help it. He knew exactly what he was doing. That wasn't luck. That was experience. Ja'Dore lowered her camera for a second.

"So..." She nudged my shoulder. "What we thinking?"

"I ain't thinking yet." She laughed. "Girl..." "I'm watching." That's what I came here for. She rolled her eyes before bringing the camera back up. "Whatever you say." I ignored her. My eyes drifted back to the stage. Connie wasn't lying. The crowd loved him. Now I just needed to figure out why.

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

# ONY !

-I FED OFF THIS SHIT. Every scream. Every hand in the air. Everybody yelling my name like knew me. This was home.

I bounced across the stage, pointing the mic into the crowd. "Aye! Y'all still with me?!"

"YEEEEAAAHHH!" "Y'all sound weak as hell!" The warehouse damn near exploded. I laughed, shaking my head before finishing the last few bars. Soon as the beat faded, sweat rolled down the side of my face. I grabbed the towel somebody tossed me, throwing it over my shoulder while the DJ kept the energy alive. "Make some noise for ONY!"

The crowd went right back to screaming. I walked over to the side of the stage, grabbing the water Connie already had waiting on me. "Told you this bitch was packed." He says grinning. "I ain't say you was lying."

"Nah..." He nodded toward the crowd. "She here." I took a sip before looking at him. "Who?"

"Holloway." My eyes followed where he nodded. It took me a second. Everybody was moving. Jumping. Dancing. Then I saw her. Blonde bussdowm. Arms folded across her chest. Standing next to another girl with a camera glued to her face. She wasn't yelling. Wasn't rapping. She was...Watching. Like she was trying to figure me out. "Hm..."

"So that's Holloway." Connie smirked."Yep." I looked back toward the crowd one more time before handing him my water. "She don't look impressed." Connie laughed. "That's 'cause she a producer, nigga." "Exactly." A grin pulled at the corner of my mouth. I looked over at Connie. "Go get her." He looked at me like I was crazy.

"Now?" I glanced down at the watch wrapped around my wrist. 10:47 P.M.Perfect timing. I looked back up.

"When I'm up again?" Connie pulled his phone out, scrolling through the lineup before nodding. "Thirty."

"Aight." I sat down at the couch. "Go get her." "You sure?" I nodded.

"If she came all the way out here..." I looked back toward the crowd. "...I ain't finna let her leave without introducing myself." Connie smirked. "Aight." He dapped me up before disappearing into the crowd.

# Y/N !

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

I WAS STILL watching the stage when somebody tapped my shoulder. I turned around. Tall. White. Buzz cut. Tattoos crawling up both arms. He looked at me for a second before speaking. "Holloway Productions?" I nodded once "Yeah."

A grin spread across his face. "I'm Connie." "I manage ONY."

"Oh." I looked him over for a second. "So you're Connie." Ja'dore says damn near breaking her arm to shake this man's hand."The one and only." He chuckles than nodded toward the backstage entrance. "ONY wanted me to come grab you."

I glanced back toward the stage where the DJ had taken over.

"He done?" I say pointing to the stage. "Nah." "He got another set in about thirty." "I figured we'd introduce y'all before all this shit start back up." I looked between him and the stage for a second. Ja'Dore nudged my arm. "You came all the way out here." "I know." I looked back at Connie. "Lead the way."

# ONY !

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The room finally settled down after Connie disappeared. Well… Settled as much as a backstage room in the middle of a warehouse show could. Bass still beating through the damn walls. Niggas walking in and out. Smoke hanging so thick under the lights it damn near looked like fog. I leaned back into the couch, grabbing my wood off the table. “Shit…” I say lighting it , leaning back on the couch. My heartbeat still ain’t came down from being on stage. That adrenaline different. Ain’t no drug touching that shit. I took a slow pull, letting the smoke sit in my lungs for a second before blowing it toward the ceiling.

Niggas always asked me what it felt like. Like I was supposed to have some deep ass answer. Truth is...I don't know. The second I touch the stage…Everything else stop mattering. Bills. Stress. The studio. Family. All that shit disappear. It's just me...The music...And Atlanta. I smirked to myself, shaking my head. "Damn..."

Every show got bigger. Last month it was damn near fifty folks packed inside somebody's backyard. Now... Warehouse.

Couple hundred deep. Niggas screaming my name before I even grabbed the mic. Crazy. I took another pull off the wood. This still wasn't enough though. I wanted more. Bigger stages. Louder crowds. Niggas and bitches in other states knowing every word. That's the goal. Always been the goal. The curtain shifted behind me. Somebody walked through carrying two cases of water before disappearing down the hallway. Another promoter stuck his head inside. "You good, bro?"

"I'm straight." He nodded before walking back out. Same routine. Every show. I looked down at the watch around my wrist.

10:53 P.M. Connie ass taking forever. I laughed under my breath. "This nigga probably talking her damn ear off." Knowing him...He done introduced himself. Introduced me. Started telling stories nobody asked for. Hell... He probably done convinced her to manage him by now. I shook my head, chuckling to myself before taking another hit. Then the curtain moved again. Voices One was Connie's. The other a soft unfamiliar voice. I looked up just as Connie pulled the curtain back.

"There he is." He grinned. Behind him...Damn. "So this Holloway?" I asked, sitting up a little. Connie looked back at her before looking at me. "Mhm." I smirked. "You ain't tell me Holloway was sexy."

"Bro..." Connie sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "What?" I laughed. "I'm just saying." He pointed at me. "Can you chill for two damn seconds?" "I ain't even do shit yet." "You 'bout to." A smirk pulled at my lips. "She smile at all since she got here?"

Connie looked back at her and before he could even respond , Before he could answer...

"Why y'all talking about me like I ain't standing right here?" Her voice was soft... But it had a little attitude tucked behind it.

I looked over at her. Then at Connie. Then back at her. "Oh." I laughed. "So you do talk." Connie pinched the bridge of his nose and clapped his hands together.

"Aight." He looked over at the girl standing next to Holloway. "You the photographer?" She lifted the camera hanging around her neck. “Obviously.” He laughed. "I got a couple artists in the next room that need some behind-the-scenes shots. Thought you might wanna catch some content while they still getting ready." She looked over at Holloway.

"You straight?" Holloway nodded. "I'm good." Connie looked back at me. "I'll be back."

"Take your time." He smirked like he knew some shit I didn't before nodding toward the door.

"C'mon, photographer." She pointed at him. "If this some bullshit..." "It ain't."

"You sure?" "I'm like... eighty percent sure." She laughed, adjusting the camera around her neck before following him out.

The curtain fell shut behind them. I looked back at Holloway. She looked back at me. Instead of saying anything... She walked right past me. Calm as hell. She dropped down onto the couch across from me, setting a small crossbody bag beside her before reaching inside. I watched her pull out a grinder. Then a jar. Woods. Lighter. I laughed under my breath. “Ain't waste no time, huh?" I say as I sit on the couch far enough to keep distance but close enough that we can have a face to face conversation.

She kept breaking the bud down between her fingers. "I've had a long day." "Mhm."

"You smoke before every meeting?" That finally made her look up. “You flirt with every producer?"... She got me there.

"Damn." I leaned back, grinning. "So it's gon' be like that?"

She looked at me for another second before looking back down at the wood in her lap.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Depends." "On?" "If you always this irritating." I laughed loud as hell. "Irritating?" I pressed a hand against my chest. "First thing you call me and you go with irritating?" "You called me sexy before you even knew my name."

"...I still don't know your name." “You don't." "So what I'm supposed to call you?" I say lighting my wood back up. "Holloway." "I don't like that." She licked the wood, sealing it together before running the lighter underneath it. “Good thing it ain’t your decision. I watched her spark it.

Orange light flashed across her face for a split second before the room fell back into that dim yellow glow. She took one slow pull, holding it for a second before exhaling toward the ceiling. "...Damn."

# Y/N !

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

-I TOOK ANOTHER HIT before looking over at him. Cocky. That was the first word that came to mind. Not in an unbearable way. Just... confident. Like he knew people liked him He carried himself like it too. Leg bouncing. Chains catching the light every time he leaned forward. Smile that damn near never left his face. Most artists spent meetings trying to convince me they were the next big thing. He hadn't said none of that. He'd flirted. Laughed. Asked questions. It was... different. I couldn't tell if that was a good thing yet.

I took a slow pull before finally looking over at him. He was already looking at me. Like he had been waiting for me to look up.

"What?" I asked. He smiled to himself before shaking his head. "I seen you in the crowd." I raised an eyebrow but didn't say nothing. "You ain't look too impressed." I let the smoke leave my lungs before answering. "I wasn't." He laughed.

"Damn." "I was working." His smile faded just enough to tell me he was actually listening now.

"Working?" "I ain't come here as a fan." I tapped the ash into the tray between us. "I came here as a producer." Silence settled between us for a second. Then..."So..." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What'd you think?" I looked at him for another second before leaning forward.

The blunt burned slow between my fingers. Orange embers glowed every time I took another pull. Outside, the DJ said something into the mic that made the crowd erupt all over again. The walls vibrated hard enough to make the empty water bottle sitting on the coffee table rattle against an ashtray.

I sat the wood between my lips while I reached for the grinder, brushing the leftover pieces back into the jar before screwing the lid shut. He ain't rush me. Just watched. Patient. Like he actually wanted the answer. I slid everything back into my bag before zipping it closed.

"You want the producer answer..." I looked up at him. "...or the answer everybody else been giving you all night?" He rubbed his jaw, smiling to himself. "The producer." I figured." He shifted on the couch, sitting back opening up his knees. The gold chain around his neck swung a little with the movement before settling against his black tee. I took another slow pull.

"You got a good ear." His eyebrows lifted. "Yeah?" "Mhm." "You know what kind of production compliments your voice." His grin stretched a little wider. "I appreciate that." I shrugged. "But..."

"There it go." I couldn't help the smile that slipped onto my face. "You play it safe."

He leaned back deeper against the couch cushions. "I play it safe?" "You do."

"How so?" "The beats." I pointed the blunt toward him.

“They all live in the same world." His forehead creased. "What world?"

"Dark pianos.” I held up one finger. "Heavy 808s." A second. "Detroit bounce." A third. "You've found something that works..." I lowered my hand. "...so you keep reaching for it." He nodded slowly. "I mean..." "If it ain't broke..." He said throwing his hands up. "I get it." I cut him off before he could finish. "And that's why it works." His expression shifted.

"But?" "But..." I leaned back into the couch. "I don't think if that's all you can do." The room went quiet again. Not awkward.

Just thoughtful. He looked down at the floor for a second, rolling his wood between his fingers before bringing it back to his lips. Smoke curled toward the ceiling. "I thought people wanted consistency." "They do."

"So what's the issue?" He said confused. "The issue..." I tilted my head. "...is everybody else doing the exact same thing." His eyes found mine again. "You blend in more than you realize." That one landed. I could tell. Not because he got defensive. Because he got quiet. His fingers tapped against the couch while he thought about it. "So..." He looked up.

"You think I need different producers?" A small smile tugged at my lips. "I think..." I held his gaze. "...you need one producer that ain't scared to tell you when your shit getting comfortable." The corner of his mouth twitched. Not annoyed. Amused. He rubbed a hand across his chin before letting out a quiet laugh. He didn't answer right away.

His eyes dropped to the wood sitting between his fingers. He rolled it back and forth against his thumb before bringing it back to his lips. The room fell quiet. Outside, the DJ started hyping the crowd back up. The bass pushed through the walls so hard the half-empty water bottles on the table rattled. "...Damn."

He let the smoke drift out slow. "You probably right." I didn't say nothing. He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

"That's crazy." "What?" "I done had niggas tell me I'm next up..."He looked over at me. "...ain't nobody told me I'm getting comfortable." I shrugged. "Most people don't wanna lose an opportunity." "And you don't?"

"If telling you the truth lose me the opportunity..." I leaned back against the couch. "...then it wasn't worth taking." He stared at me for another second. Then a grin slowly pulled across his face. "...Yeah." He pointed at me with the blunt. "I see why Connie kept blowing my phone up about you." Before I could answer, the curtain swung open.

"Aye, bro!" Connie poked his head inside. "Five minutes." ONY stood up with a sigh, adjusting the chain around his neck before looking back at me. "Don't leave." I raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious." He smirked. "I wanna see if I can change your mind." Then he disappeared through the curtain.

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆

AHHHH I AM ACTUALLY IN LOVEEEE WITH THIS BOOK! LMK WHAT YALL THINKKK😇

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆ ☆*ੈ✩‧₊

CHAPTER I:STUDIO.

NO WARNINGS.

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆ ☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚

☆LOCTION: Y/N'S STUDIO.

☆TIME: 2:36 A.M.

-

# Y/N !

-THE RED LIGHT OF THE CLOCK, AS the time stares back at me. 2:36 A.M. The bass from the beat rattled the walls. Blue LED lights washed over the room while the unfinished beat played from the studio monitors for what had to be the hundredth time tonight. I rubbed my palms over my face, feeling the tiredness hit my body hard , but I couldn't stop. Not yet it was like there was one more thing to tweak. I leaned forward, my fingers moved across the board, tweaking the bass a little more until...finally.

"There you go," I whispered, the sound of my own voice barely cutting through the loudspeakers. I sat back, finally letting the track play out into the silence of the room. That shit was fire. I've done it once again. My phone buzzed on the table, shattering the moment. I let out a groan, letting my head drop back against the chair as I reached for it, expecting another reminder from Ja'Dore to go home. Instead, the screen lit up with a number I didn't recognize, but the text flashing underneath made me pause.

-

📲

404-726-9816:

Yoo , This Holloway Productions?

"The fuck..." I say mutter under my breath.

Y/N:

Who asking?

404-726-9816:

Connie. I manage ONY. Word around the city is you don't miss.

I smirk to myself , before I could even start typing another text comes through.

404-726-9816:

Show tomorrow at 11. Come through. Hear him upfront.

I sat and thought about it for about a minute before texting back.

Y/n:

Send an address.

-

I sat my phone down on the desk. Beginning to shut down the studio for the night. As the studio fell silent I grabbed my keys off the desk and locked it up behind me. As I walked out the studio and the air hit my body for the first time in what seemed like forever I took a deep breath. I unlocked my car with a click, tossing my backpack into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel.

"Damn..."I rested my head against the steering wheel, closing my eyes. I didn't bother checking the phone again. There was no address, no reply but nothing to keep me from the silence I needed. I shoved the phone into my cupholder and pressed the ignition, the engine loud as I pulled out of the lot. Atlanta looked different at 3:00 a.m quite almost. It was the same city that raised the dreamers, the rappers, and the producers , everyone that chasing a piece of something. I guess I fit right in. My apartment complex came into view twenty minutes later. It wasn't fancy, but it was mine. I grabbed my backpack and headed upstairs, my body feeling twice as heavy as it did earlier.

The second I stepped inside, I kicked my shoes off by the door. Silence. No bass, no monitor hum just home. I wandered into the kitchen, the hardwood cold under my feet. I pulled the fridge open, staring at the meal prep I made for nights like this. As I pulled my food out the fridge. My phone buzzed, vibrating against the fabric of the couch cushions. I put my food into the microwave and walked over to my phone.

-

📲

404-726-9816:

Got you. 11 p.m. Eastside Warehouse. Don't be late.

I stared at the address, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Y/N:

👍🏽.

-

I dropped the phone back onto the couch, exhaling a long, slow breath. If I'm being honest I was thinking about anything but the food I had waiting for me. The microwave beeped, snapping me back to reality. "Shit." I shuffled back into the kitchen, pulling the container out before grabbing a fork from the drawer. I didn't even bother sitting at the table. Instead, I leaned against the kitchen island, taking a bite while scrolling mindlessly through my phone. Instagram. A couple artists I'd worked with posting snippets of songs. Ja'Dore dumping another photo carousel from a shoot she'd wrapped earlier that afternoon.

I smiled to myself before locking my phone and setting it down on the counter. I ate in silence, my eyes wandering around my apartment. It was probably the only place I actually let myself breathe. The studio was for Holloway Productions. This...This was for me. Everything had a place. The throw blanket folded over the couch. Candles lined up on the shelf. Not a dish sitting in the sink. I couldn't stand coming home to a mess.

The second I finished eating, I rinsed my container out, loaded it into the dishwasher and wiped the counters down. It only took a minute, but it made me feel better. I made my way down the hallway, pulling my earrings out one by one before unclasping the Cuban from around my neck. By the time I reached my bathroom, all I wanted was a hot shower. The warm water washed over my body, taking the studio with it. Twenty minutes later, I stepped out feeling like a whole new person. Freshly moisturized. Face mask on. Silk pajamas. Exactly how I liked it.

I climbed into bed, balancing my laptop on my thighs before opening my email. A couple brand inquiries. An artist trying to book another session. A payment confirmation. Business. I answered a few emails, added tomorrow's session to my calendar, then reached over for my planner. 11:00 P.M. Eastside Warehouse. ONY! My eyes stayed on his name a little longer than I cared to admit. I tapped my pen against the page for a second before closing it. "We'll see."

I leaned over, reaching for the rolling tray sitting neatly on the bottom shelf of my nightstand. Grinder. Papers. Lighter. Everything exactly where I left it. I grabbed my robe off the foot of the bed, slipping it over my shoulders before making my way toward the balcony. The cool air wrapped around me the second I slid the glass door open.mI took my time breaking everything down, my fingers moving from pure muscle memory. Once I finished rolling, I sparked the end and leaned back into the chair. The city looked different this high up. Streetlights stretched for miles. Cars drifted by every now and then. Somebody's music echoed from another apartment building.

I took another hit, letting the smoke disappear into the night sky. My mind wandered. To the artists I'd worked with. The sessions I still had this week. The emails I'd answered. Another vibration pulled me out of my thoughts. I reached over for my phone, unlocking it with one hand. Instagram. One of the Atlanta music pages I followed had just posted.

"ONY! shut down another warehouse show on the eastside tonight. Next stop... tomorrow." A blurry clip played underneath. The crowd was packed shoulder to shoulder, phones in the air while somebody on stage moved through the smoke. I couldn't make out his face. Just the energy. The comments were going crazy.

-

💭

"Atlanta next up."

"Bruh don't miss."

"Been trying to tell y'all."

"Next show tomorrow 11 P.M."

-

I took another pull before locking my phone. "Hm." Guess I'd see for myself tomorrow.

☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚☆ ☆*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Hey my queens , I wanted this first chapter to be a look into Y/N life. This story is gonna be so fyeeee and I can't wait to keep writing for you guys. Lmk what you think !

Everybody in the music industry know somebody.

Producers know artists.

Artists know managers.

Managers know DJs.

DJs know promoters.

And if your work really speak for itself…

Word get around

Word around the city is she don’t miss.

KILLING ME SOFTLY FT. ONYAKOPON!

Coming soon.