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ahonice · 1 year

Text

not my boyfriend

luke hughes x fem reader

word count: 9.6k (the google doc was forty pages long idk what happened i got carried away)

warnings: jokes about dying/being killed, drinking, mentions of harassment (none actually happens though, just a topic discussed.) cursing, party games, lots of fighting that could’ve been avoided, VERY unrealistic scenarios and timelines lol, reader is stubborn for no reason and pisses me off (sorry)

note: this takes place during luke’s first full season as a devil. also idk how season tickets work with the devils so... hope y’all enjoy, leave feedback and lmk what you think, love y’all babes <3!!!

+++

growing up in newark meant you were a devils fan by default. which wasn’t a bad thing, your father was a season ticket holder and often took you to games with him as you were the only one of your siblings who was still living at home.

you were the youngest of five, all others being boys, and the university you attended was only a five minute drive from your house so instead of moving into the dorms you continued to live at home.

at each game you always wore unmarked jerseys, shirts, and hoodies. no number or last names on any of them, you weren’t a big enough fan to have a jersey that branded you so you stayed content with your blank ones.

+++

it was the home opener for the devils and your father dragged you, along with all your brothers, out to attend the game with him. he managed to get tickets right behind the devils bench this year, you didn’t even want to know how much money he had to spend to get them.

“dad isn’t this a bit much? the game is going to be the exact same if we were sitting in our normal seats, two levels above.” you asked him once everyone was situated and comfortable in their seats.

“oh shut up y/n, these seats are great and who knows maybe you’ll catch the eye of a cute hockey player and you can live out your trophy wife fantasies.” your brother, who was sitting two seats down from you, teased.

“shut up david.” you said reaching over your other brothers to hit him, which you did…three times.

“would you two cut it out, you’re attracting a crowd.” your father scolded.

he was right, not only were a few people sitting behind you watching, but so were a couple people on the bench in front of you.

you groaned in embarrassment and hid your face in your brother gavin’s shoulder.

“kill me gav, kill me.” your voice was muffled.

“number forty three is staring pretty hard right now y/n.” gavin wiggled his eyebrows at you.

you shot your head up and made, brief, eye contact with a boy who looked around your age before he quickly looked away. another player, who looked just a little older than you, laughed at him before giving you a wink.

“i’m serious gavin, shoot me right here.” you said, pointing between your eyes. “like i’m a horse that just broke it’s leg.”

+++

after the game you went to dinner with your family before you parted ways. you had picked up your coworkers shift because he had a family emergency and wasn’t able to come in. during the summer between your senior year of high school and your freshman year of college you attended bartending school. you thought that working in the night life industry, especially as a young attractive woman, that you would be getting a lot of money in tips.

and you were correct.

your grandparents were covering your tuition, and since you were living at home there were no room and board charges, but you did have a car to pay for, books and school supplies, as well as an addiction to shopping that you had to support. so the job really was great.

it was a nice cocktail, lounge, styled bar. lots of business meetings took place, and overall upper class patrons were the ones who would visit. it wasn’t rare that local celebrities would stop by, or new yorkers wanting a lower tax on their tequila sunrise. so when a few people on the new jersey devils roster walked in, nobody was surprised.

“y/n i’ll take bottle service for them tonight if you cover my side of the bar while i’m out? we can split their tip 70/30.” your coworker brian suggested after seeing them all make their way towards the private section, meaning they would not be ordering drinks themselves like all the other people in the establishment.

“60/40, it’s a saturday night brian.” he rolled his eyes before agreeing, making his way over to the group as you began writing down tickets.

with brian gone you were now the only one behind the bar, it being a busy saturday night you didn’t really have any time to yourself. constantly getting new orders, or people confused why you needed their card to open a tab, you weren’t really planning on taking a break anytime soon.

“what can i get you?” you asked whoever sat in the seat across from where you were currently fulfilling orders. you didn’t look up to properly acknowledge the customer, but you know they heard you because your question was quickly followed by a long “uhhhhh” before you placed the drinks you had been working on infront of their respective owners.

“while you uhhhh on that, i’m gonna go help customers that know what they want.” you didn’t really mean to be so rude, but you didn’t have time to provide good customer service.

“wait!” you had barely turned around before the customer stopped you. “i’m sorry, it’s just that i am not twenty one, so i don’t know what i can order here.”

“you’re not old enough to drink? how the hell did you get in? because if you used a fake i’m sorry but i’m gonna have to cut it.” you finally looked up from the glasses in front of you to see who exactly you were speaking with. he looked familiar, you couldn’t figure out where you knew him from. probably just a student you’ve seen around campus.

“no it’s nothing like that. i’m here with some of my teammates.” he nodded his head towards the private section where you could see brian making them drinks.

you looked back at his face again before the realization hit you.

“you were the player staring at me earlier.”

“you were the girl that slapped her brother in front of everyone earlier.”

you blushed at his recollection of you, he blushed at yours as well.

“guilty.” you both said at the same time, causing some laughs to let out before the moment was interrupted by some people on the other side of the bar yelling that they wanted their drinks.

“i’ll be back in a little bit, sorry.” you apologized to the boy before turning to start making the drinks that the customers had ordered nearly five minutes ago, audibly groaning at the line that was forming all around the bar and the amount of people now entering.

+++

it ended up being nearly thirty minutes before the rush of orders you had gotten was cleared and you had time to go back to where that boy was sitting. you weren’t surprised that he was no longer there, but you were disappointed.

you decided to take the rare break to your advantage and poured yourself a glass of apple juice, savoring the taste before you brought your attention towards the group in the back. brian must’ve really been working for those tips because you had never seen a group so entertained in your life.

making eye contact with the boy, you smiled as he stood up from his seat, excusing himself from the group being met with a smirk from the guy he was sitting next to, who you recognized as the one who winked at you earlier.

“you know you guys are paying for bottle service, you don’t have to come up to the bar to order drinks. it’s kinda what it was made for.” you said once the boy had sat down in the seat he was in just an hour before.

“i know, but i don’t want the guys to make fun of me for ordering orange juice.”

“are you assuming that i wouldn’t make fun of you? because i would, and i will. i’m team apple juice.” you said, raising your glass filled with apple juice, into the air.

“can’t drink on the job?”

you laughed at how stupid of a question that was, just because you worked as a bartender doesn’t mean you have no decorum. “ couldn’t even if i wanted to, i’m nineteen.”

“oh so you’re my age, well a year younger.” he smiled to himself. “i’m twenty.”

you nodded at his words, too busy closing out a tab to respond.

“how can you work here though? if you’re nineteen. don’t you have to be twenty one?” he asked.

“no, you need to be eighteen to serve alcohol in the states.” you responded, not even looking up.

“got it.” he trailed off, it quickly became awkward as you were too busy to give him the attention he was obviously looking for. “i’m luke by the way, don’t think i told you my name yet.”

“i’m y/n, but i’m pretty busy right now so maybe you could go back to your table. i don’t mean to be rude, but i can’t spend my whole shift talking to you and not working.” you told him, noticing the long line that was beginning to form again.

“oh yea of course, sorry. umm i’ll see you around.” luke said, getting up.

you didn’t respond and just walked over to the other side of the bar where the people who had been waiting the longest were.

luke sighed before walking back over to his group.

“what’s the matter lukey? couldn’t impress the hot girl by ordering an orange juice.”

“shut up jack.”

+++

it was only five days later that your father was bringing you along to another devils game and once again you got dressed in your unnamed jersey and a pair of leggings. you had work right after, having taken the closing shift tonight so you would be able to enjoy the game for at least an hour and a half before you would have to go.

“dad please tell me we aren’t in those seats again. you don’t need to be wasting your money like that, our usual seats are just fine.” you spoke as you followed your dad through the arena.

“sweetie, it is my money to spend and i wanted this. i never miss a home game, all of the money spent is being spent for good use.” you father responded, making his way down towards the glass.

you had arrived after warm ups were finished so now you were just waiting for the game to actually start. playing a game on your phone, you were easily pulled into a trance and didn’t even realize that the players had made their way onto the ice until your father nudged you.

“y/n would you pay attention? the boy is looking at you again.” your head shot up at his words and you quickly made eye contact with the boy from last week, luke.

he waved at you before turning around before you even had the chance to wave back.

“that was weird.” you said, not to anyone in particular, but you weren’t aware of your volume because that same guy that winked at you began laughing and pushed luke who was visibly blushing.

+++

“can i get an orange juice? on the rocks.”

you turned around to see number forty three smiling at you, his hand behind his neck in an awkward stance.

“luke.”

“y/n.”

“is your group here today? we didn’t get any mentions of bottle service being needed tonight.”

“yeah, it was a last minute thing. i asked if we could come to this bar instead of the one we had planned on going to.”

“why? because the orange juice is that good?”

“without a doubt.”

you laughed at his words before looking over at your coworker.

“do you wanna do bottle service tonight? or should i?”

“i’ll do it. the general manager is here tonight and you know how she gets when it’s a group of men getting bottle service.”

“got it, thank you brian.”

you looked back to see luke staring at you confused.

“why doesn’t she like men getting bottle service?”

“it’s not that, there have just been a few too many cases of us having to kick people out because of their behavior towards female bartenders.”

“has that ever happened to you?” his voice suddenly angry, causing you to look at him funny.

“cool it casanova.” you laughed, ignoring his question because you have. that’s just what comes with a job in the night life industry though. “i have to get back to work, but i’ll see you around luke.”

dejected, luke made his way to where his teammates were sitting.

“did you fuck up again?”

“yes…? i honestly don’t know.”

+++

it had been two weeks since that night.

you hadn’t been able to make it to any of the devils games due to coming down with a bug, also causing you to miss school and work. it definitely wasn’t ideal considering it was nearly thanksgiving break, which meant it was nearly finals week. but you couldn’t complain, it was always nice to do nothing but binge watch investigation discovery and drink yellow gatorade all day.

“dad can i come with you to the game tonight? my fever is gone and i haven’t been sick in three days. i need to get out of the house badly.” you asked your father once he made it home from work.

“sure sweetie. i’m planning on leaving in half an hour, i want to make it to warm ups tonight.” he replied, shuffling through the mail.

“got it dad, i’ll go get ready.”

+++

you quickly got ready for the game. deciding that you wouldn’t wear any makeup tonight, your eyelash extensions were enough to carry the rest of the face. tying your hair into a braid, you got dressed in an unmarked devils hoodie and leggings before throwing your shoes on.

“dad i’m ready if you wanna leave a little earlier.” you called out from upstairs, spraying your perfume on.

“sounds good hun, i’ll meet you in the car.”

you were really excited for tonight's game, mainly because this was your first outing in civilization in nearly fourteen days, but a little part of you was excited to see luke again.

a little part of you was afraid he had forgotten who you were, as you had only interacted a handful of times.

a loud honk ripped you from your thoughts as you could hear your father yelling from outside.

“i’m about to leave without you y/n.”

+++

you sat in your seat playing on your phone as you anxiously waited for the game to start

“what’s got you so jittery?” your father asks, noticing your legs bouncing. “does it have anything to do with number forty three?”

your eyes widened at the second question that came from your father’s mouth.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you spoke defensively.

“well i thought i might ask because he has been staring at you since he got onto the ice.”

you had been so caught up in your thoughts that you missed warmups beginning, and looking up you met luke’s eyes.

you gave him a smile and a small wave, which he returned before number eighty six rammed into his shoulders and luke went back to what he was supposed to be doing.

+++

after the game you decided to tackle the large load of school work that had been piling up from your sick days.

you managed to spend a good three hours uninterrupted before your phone began ringing. you picked it up to see your general manager's contact shown on the screen. groaning you answered the call, hoping she wasn’t going to call you in because there is nothing worse than a friday night shift.

“hey y/n, i’m sorry to bother you but this boy is currently asking about you at the bar and i need to know if you know him or if i need to ban him from the property.” she spoke.

your eyes widened, a little scared because this wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve had creepy men asking about you on your nights off.

“what is his name?” you ask, you doubted it but there was a chance you did know him.

“luke hughes.” you heard him yell in the background.

“yes darlene, i know him. he is harmless, please let him leave the jail cell.” you joked, knowing for a fact she had him held captive in the office.

“he wants your number.” she whispered.

“just give it to him, and seriously let him go. him and his teammates tip a lot.”

+++

from: *** *** ****

y/n?

from: *** *** ****

this is luke.

from: *** *** ****

i’m a little nervous that your boss gave me a fake number just so i would leave her alone, so if you could respond that would be greatly appreciated.

to: *** *** ****

i’m sorry, but you’ve reached the rejection hotline. the person who gave you this number is not interested.

from: *** *** ****

lovely.

to: *** *** ****

i’m totally kidding.

to: *** *** ****

this is y/n lmao.

from: luke hughes

that is not funny.

+++

over the course of the weekend you and luke texted a lot.

mainly just basic information. favorite food, tv shows, some random questions.

from: luke hughes

why do you wear blank jerseys?

from: luke hughes

and blank everything else? you never have a name or number on you at games.

to: luke hughes

that’s just not something i’m into.

to: luke hughes

there isn’t a hockey player i like enough to wear their name or number.

that wasn’t entirely true.

while you were a devils fan by default, you were a hurricanes fan and sebastian aho enthusiast by choice.

you had multiple jerseys and shirts with his name and number all over them, but the devils only played the hurricanes on home ice a limited time each season so you weren’t able to break out your collection all that often.

luckily for you, the hurricanes were playing the devils at the prudential center in five weeks and that was one of the only things you were truly looking forward to these days, as sad as that sounds.

+++

“the boy who keeps asking for you is here.” brian said to you as he entered the office.

“what do you mean keeps? darlene just told me about the one time.” you responded, turning your attention off of the roblox game you were playing and towards your coworker.

“because i’ve only ever gotten darlene involved once. he kept asking for your schedule that night and i nearly called the cops.do you know how scared i was? not for you of course, just of the amount of paperwork and witness reports i’d have to deal with. did i ever tell you about the time that one psycho came in here with a butter knife and threatened–”

“brian focus.”

“right sorry. he has come in asking for you at least ten times now. if you want me to kick him out i will, i’ve been working out.” brian finished his rant by flexing his muscles, that weren’t even there.

“you’re 5’7 brian. no amount of muscle will make up for that.” you started, picking your phone up. “i’ve got it don’t worry, but thanks.”

to: luke hughes

are you stalking me?

to: luke hughes

because i will get a restraining order against you.

to: luke hughes

i don’t care how attractive you are.

from: luke hughes

so you think i’m attractive?

to: luke hughes

is that seriously all you got from that??

to: luke hughes

STOP BOTHERING MY COWORKERS !!!

from: luke hughes

will do.

from: luke hughes

as long as you agree to go out with me this week.

to: luke hughes

fine.

to: luke hughes

but only because i would like to go one night without my coworkers asking if they need to place your image on the blacklisted board.

from: luke hughes

yeah totally “only because”…

+++

“so you expect me to believe that after the game tonight you are going out with luke hughes. the rookie player for the new jersey devils?” your father asks.

“yes dad.” you deadpanned.

you had told him of your plans for after the game tonight forty minutes ago and he does not believe you in the slightest.

“what did you take for your migraine earlier?” he asks, chuckling. “oh no, did you get into my medicine cabinet? i’m pretty sure i bought those painkillers back in ‘eighty-nine.”

“you’re hilarious. now can we leave please? warm ups are already almost over.” you said, unamused, while your father was bent over laughing at his stupid joke. “i’m going without you.”

“like hell you are.” he said, snapping up right and marching over to the front door. “if you are telling me the truth i have to meet this boy and talk to him…to ask him if you’re blackmailing him into this.”

he added that last part once he was already outside, you groaned as you heard him laughing from inside the car.

+++

to: luke hughes

i will be waiting in the car park after the game whenever you get out.

to: luke hughes

also my dad wants to meet you.

to: luke hughes

he says it’s because he needs to make sure i’m safe, but really he just thinks i’m lying to him about your existence in my life.

+++

“sweetie when is he coming? it is late and i’ve got work in the morning.” your father asks, for what feels like the hundredth time.

“dad, i’ve already told you that you can leave. i don’t need you here.” you replied, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“what if he kidnaps you? or kills you? he’s got money, he could cover it up in an instant.” he snaps his fingers when he said instant to emphasize his point.

“i would never do that sir.” a different voice cut in.

both you and your fathers heads whip around and you’re met with the sight of luke, looking very good in his suit.

“holy shit y/n you weren’t lying to me.” your dad says, walking up to where luke was standing to shake his hand. “let me tell you kid, i thought my daughter had lost her mind.”

“dad. please stop.” you stated, annoyed at his behavior, finding a spot to stand next to luke.

“right. sorry sweetie.” he said before turning his attention back towards luke. “have her home no later than midnight.”

“yes sir.” luke stated, before your dad turned around and walked towards his car.

“so where are we going?” you ask. “you’re dressed like we’re going to a five star restaurant and i’m dressed like we’re going to a drive thru.” you explained, pointing to the major differences in your attire.

“i’ll meet you halfway.”

+++

“is it too late to tell you that i prefer qdoba?” you told luke as he pulled into the parking lot of a chipotle.

“i think i should take you home.” luke joked, before running around the car to open your door for you, slightly tripping in the process.

“i should warn you though, i get queso and guac on my burritos.” you told him, knowing that he would be paying.

“what? that’s like an extra seven dollars.” he complains, holding the front door open for you to walk in.

“should’ve taken me to qdoba, it’s free there.”

+++

the night went very well.

you and luke talked about anything and everything.

it was fifteen minutes to midnight when luke pulled up in front of your house to say goodbye.

noticing that the lights were on, luke asked if your father really stayed up to see if he had brought you home on time.

“i can guarantee he is currently in his recliner and snoring.” you told luke before you both started walking up the porch steps.

“well i had lots of fun tonight. you should really send me a text whenever you’re bored at work, i can always use my celebrity status to get in while being underage.” luke said once you had made it to the front door.

“your C-list celebrity status?” you started.

“-oh come on, i’m a b-list at least.” he cut in.

“don’t you have better things to do than sit at a bar and drink orange juice?” you finished your thought.

“honestly no. i don’t have any friends in jersey that aren’t my teammates.”

“well if you ever want to go to a party or hang out with me and my friends you always can, just text me if you’re ever bored at home.”

you said your proper goodbyes and once you stepped into your house you saw your father asleep in his recliner.

to: luke hughes

*image*

i told you he would be asleep. he would never know if we actually stayed out past curfew.

from: luke hughes

did you catch him mid snore in that photo? that’s honestly a violation.

+++

from: luke hughes

i’m bored.

to: luke hughes

what am i supposed to do about that?

from: luke hughes

😑😑😑

to: luke hughes

I’M KIDDING

to: luke hughes

do you not have a game tonight? because i’m planning on attending a frat party tonight if you would like to tag along.

to: luke hughes

unless you are now above frat parties after finishing school.

from: luke hughes

i’d love to join you.

to: luke hughes

great! i was planning on getting there at 10:30. do you just want to drive to my house? my friends are taking me btw and we could always just double buckle.

from: luke hughes

yea sure. what should i wear?

to: luke hughes

oh nothing too fancy just a tuxedo.

to: luke hughes

bowtie included.

from: luke hughes

i hate you.

+++

“will you all please promise to be nice to him and be on your best behavior? i think i actually like this one and i don’t him to be scared away.” you warned your friends who were currently in your room pregaming.

“hey don’t look at me, i’ll be nice as hell to your new boy toy.” your best friend, trinity, spoke. you rolled your eyes at her before looking at the boys who crowded on your floor.

“cal, bass, and tyler.” you spoke firmly, attempting to intimidate them. “i swear to god if any of you make him uncomfortable, all of my images and videos from syllabus week are getting posted on the main.”

“sir yes sir!” the three shouted in unison, only causing your eyes to roll back further into your head.

“just please be welcoming. talk to him, get to know him, do not force him to play rage cage if he does not want to.” you emphasized that last point at kade.

“if he doesn’t willingly play rage cage he isn’t the one for you y/n.”

you were about to make a snarky comment but were cut off by your phone going off.

from: luke hughes

hey i’m outside. should i knock or wait out here?

to: luke hughes

just come inside, front door is unlocked.

to: luke hughes

we’re upstairs in my room, just follow the sound of shitty music. my friend bass has aux tonight.

you could feel the nerves bubbling up in your stomach. you hadn’t informed the group that your luke was luke hughes, they were all devils fans and were in the know about things so they definitely know who he is.

“he is coming upstairs right now, y’all i’m serious, best behavior.”

the sound of a knock made all five heads turn towards the door.

“no fucking way-”

“shut it!” you cut cal off. “hey luke, come in. there are shooters on my desk if you want something to pregame with. trinity is sober tonight so you don’t have to worry about driving.”

luke makes his way over to your dresser and grabs three shooters before making his way towards the spot next to you.

“everybody this is luke, luke this is everybody.” you motioned your hands back and forth. “tyler, cal, trinity, and bass.”

you pointed to your friends, who were looking at the two of you with shock and disbelief on their faces, as you named them.

“let’s go to the party, i wanna play rage cage.”

+++

“is bass your real name or is it just a nickname?”

after arriving at the party you and your group established where trinity would be all night everyone started asking luke questions, the majority of them were about hockey and the nhl before you texted the groupchat and told them to shut their fucking mouths about his career.

“nickname. my name is sebastian, but this one-” bass grabs onto your shoulders and pulls you in front of him. “-says there is only one sebastian in her life and i am, unfortunately, not him so she started calling me bass and everybody else just latched onto it.”

you glared at him before speaking. “i was being sarcastic when i told you that, and you came up with the fucking nickname.”

“yeah, it’s not y/n’s fault you share a name with the love of her life and future husband.” tyler said, giggling after you hit his stomach.

“okay let’s go play rage cage, y’all need to shut up.” you said making your way outside, trinity informed everyone that she would stay in her spot and to text her if it is urgent. “luke do you play rage cage?”

it was an important question.

sure most people favor cup pong or even flip up as a party game, but rage cage was what you and your friends dominated at every function.

“i have never played it before. haven’t even heard of it.” luke shrugged.

everyone’s movements paused for a second before hell froze over.

“WHAT?”

“you’ve never heard of it?”

“what fucking school did you go to?”

“y/n get him out of my face.”

you weren’t even sure who said what, but luke had a slightly scared look on his face.

“they’re joking luke, let me teach you how to play.”

+++

“so your future husband's name is sebastian? should i even continue pursuing you?” luke asked, jokingly, once you two were left alone in the backyard, tyler had drank one too many bitch cups and needed to be nursed back to health.

“i am most definitely not marrying him. he is six years older than me, lives hundreds of miles away, and also knows nothing of my existence.” you informed luke before finishing your drink. “you should definitely continue to pursue me.”

+++

from: luke hughes

are you coming to the game tonight?

from: luke hughes

i have a proposition for you, if you are.

to: luke hughes

i’m listening

from: luke hughes

you wear my jersey tonight, and in return i win the game.

from: luke hughes

it’s a win-win situation

to: luke hughes

yea for you. i get nothing out of it.

to: luke hughes

also i do not own a jersey with anyone’s name on it, let alone yours.

to: luke hughes

and you are NOT buying me one. if i want a jersey i will pay for it myself…or my father will.

from: luke hughes

fine.

from: luke hughes

but when you become my girlfriend you have to wear my jersey, no matter what.

to: luke hughes

okay, if i become your girlfriend i will wear your jersey.

from: luke hughes

not if, when.

to: luke hughes

i’ll see you tonight weirdo.

+++

“your boyfriend is waving at you.”

“david shut up he isn’t my boyfriend.” you responded to your brother, shoving him.

you waved back at luke before his smile dropped and he pointed towards the jersey david was wearing. how you didn’t see the name and number on the back before? you didn’t know.

“are you seriously wearing luke’s jersey right now?” you placed your head in your hands knowing the conversation that would come of this. “he asks me to wear it before every home game and i never do, and now my own brother is wearing his jersey and not me.”

“why won’t you wear his jersey?” your brother asks, finishing off his beer. “-and don’t give me that bullshit answer of you never wear anyone’s jersey. you wear aho’s.”

“that’s because sebastian aho is sebastian aho.” you deadpanned. “there has never been a player, besides aho, that i have liked enough to wear their number. i’m not a fan of anyone…besides aho.”

“yeah, but luke’s your boyfriend.”

“oh my god he isn’t my boyfriend, do you ever listen to me? idiot.”

+++

“so your brother wears my jersey, but you don’t?”

the sound of luke’s voice drew your attention away from the tab you were closing out at work. “i knew you were gonna show up tonight. remind me again why i decided to give you my schedule?”

“because i’m awesome.” luke answered, taking a seat in front of you. “-but of course not awesome enough for you to wear my jersey.”

“are we still on that?” you asked, handing luke a pop.

“yes we are.” he stated blankly. “seriously i don’t understand why you won’t just wear my jersey. you said you didn’t want to pay for one, and that i couldn’t pay for one. but now that i know your brother has one i would very much appreciate it if you would wear it, to at least one game.”

“i’ll think about it.”

+++

your answer was no. that was three weeks ago and you still had yet to wear a jersey with the number forty three on the back.

tonight you were excited.

the carolina hurricanes were playing the devils at the prudential center tonight and you and your friends all got seats behind the canes bench. none of them were canes fans, but this one the one game a year that you had the opportunity to sit near sebastian aho and you would be damned if you missed out on that opportunity.

from: luke hughes

you coming tonight?

to: luke hughes

yeah.

to: luke hughes

so are trinity, bass, tyler, and cal.

from: luke hughes

oh great, i haven’t seen them in a bit.

from: luke hughes

are you guys going out after the game? it’s a friday night.

to: luke hughes

yes we are. cal’s frat is hosting this sport night thing if you wanna come with.

to: luke hughes

just bring a jersey to change into after the game.

from: luke hughes

oh crap i don’t own any jerseys.

to: luke hughes

you’re hilarious bud.

to: luke hughes

but just so you know i’m not sitting in my usual spot tonight. my brothers are sitting with my dad tonight.

+++

“no fucking way.”

that was the first thing you heard as you got in bass’ car.

“what?” you asked, everyone looked at you in disbelief.

“you are wearing aho’s jersey.” tyler replied, speaking for everyone in the car. “and you’re dating luke hughes.”

“i am not dating luke, you guys know that.” you deadpanned, you were getting sick and tired of people mistaking you for luke’s girlfriend. almost as much as you were sick and tired of not being luke’s girlfriend. “-and you also know that i am a loyal sebastian aho supporter before anything else.” you added the end in a lighter tone of voice.

“alright, but when luke gets upset with you tonight you cannot be angry when we tell you we told you so.”

the rest of the car ride only one thing, a question, was on your mind, would he really get upset with you?

+++

“oh my god!”

“how many times are you gonna say oh my god tonight y/n?” trinity asked.

she had a point. it was like the only thing that was coming out of your mouth.

“never.” you deadpanned. “sebastian aho is right in front of me. my future husband is right in front of me.” you got more giddy by the end of your statement.

“oh wow y/n, you’re blushing.” cal poked your side. “that’s pathetic.”

“lover boy, two o’clock. does not look happy.”

you looked over to your right and saw luke looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read, but bass was right, he did not look happy.

+++

“GOAL!” you screamed, shooting up from your seat. “SUCK IT DEVILS!”

“alright calm down y/n.” tyler said, laughing at you.

“NO! sebastian aho just scored his second goal of the night, if he gets one more i’m gonna lose it.” you replied, sitting back down.

“oh god you haven’t lost it yet?”

+++

to: luke hughes

hey! sorry about the game, you played great :)

to: luke hughes

if you do want to come to the party we’ll be at this is the address.

to: luke hughes

12345 house street

to: luke hughes

i hope to see you there.

“so is your boyfriend coming tonight?” cal asked.

“not my boyfriend.” you started. “and i don’t know. i just texted him the address for him to meet us there if he wants.”

“ok. real talk,” trinity started. “do you want him to be your boyfriend?”

“i do-”

you were cut off by the screaming of your four friends.

“shut it.” you snapped, effectively shutting them up. “i do want him to be my boyfriend, but i have no idea if he wants me to be his girlfriend. i mean we’ve known each other for three months and he has talked about us dating in the past but he hasn’t asked me out yet and i don’t know if he ever will.”

“y/n don’t be like that. i can tell by the way he looks at you and acts around you that he likes you, a lot, and also he looked jealous as hell when he saw whose jersey you were wearing tonight.” bass said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“okay enough with the pity party, lets go to the party. i need a drink.”

+++

from: luke hughes

not really in the mood for a party tonight.

to: luke hughes

oh ok.

to: luke hughes

well i’ll see you soon, yeah?

“luke isn’t coming tonight.” you told the group, an upset look rested on your face.

“oh…well it’s probably nothing. i wouldn’t want to go out and celebrate a loss.” trinity said, giving you a reassuring smile.

“ok i seriously need a drink now.”

+++

it has been over a week since the game and luke hasn’t spoken to you once.

all texts have been left unanswered, he hasn’t come to visit you at work, and when you were at the game two days ago he didn’t look at you once.

you were working the closing shift tonight, and it was a monday so it was not very busy. in the past you would text luke and he would arrive as soon as he could, but you stopped attempting to communicate with luke two days ago, after the game. he made it clear he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

“y/n, someone is at the bar asking for you.” you looked up from the wall you were staring at in the office to see brian. “not the usual one though. did you and your boyfriend break up?”

you had a little bit of hope that it was luke for just a moment, before brian told you it wasn’t him. “he’s not my boyfriend. never was.”

you stepped out of the back room to see the other hughes brother sitting at your bar.

“hello jack. what do i owe the pleasure?” you ask, planting yourself across from him.

“we need to talk about you and luke.” he replied curtly.

“there is no me and luke, he has made it very clear that he is no longer interested in being my friend anymore.” you said, pouring a drink for no one, you just needed something to do.

“that’s the thing. he does want to be your friend, more than that. this past week he has not shut up about you and how you guys weren’t talking anymore. what happened?” jack asked, grabbing the now finished drink and bringing it to his lips.

“i don’t even know. we were planning on going to this party at my friends frat together and then after your guys’ game against the hurricanes he flaked out and hasn’t spoken to me since. i’ve reached out and haven’t gotten anything back, i was at the game on saturday and he didn’t even look at me, so if he is upset that we aren’t talking then he is just upset with himself.” you took a moment to catch your breath before looking at jack.

“whose jersey did you wear to our game against the hurricanes?”

“sebastian aho’s. why?”

jack let out a chuckle and shook his head. “makes sense. he was muttering stupid sebastian aho and fucking homewrecker the whole way home and bunkered himself in his room for days.”

“i always refused to wear his jersey to games, or his anything, and now i’m realizing i probably pissed him off by wearing someone else’s name and number when i’ve been telling him the whole time i’ve known him that the reason i won’t wear his stuff is because i don’t wear anyones.” you told jack, pouring another drink.

“i wouldn’t say he is pissed off. he is definitely upset though.” jack starts, standing up. “i think you should come to our game this thursday-”

“i always go to your games.” you cut him off. “well come to our game this thursday wearing his jersey. i think that is all he wants…well that and you being his girlfriend.” jack finished, not giving you a chance to respond before walking out the front doors.

+++

“david please, just let me borrow your jersey for one night.” you begged your brother over the phone.

“no can do little sis. just go buy your own, i mean it might be beneficial to own your own luke hughes jersey when luke hughes is your boyfriend.”

“david i’m not even gonna say it, but seriously? where am i gonna find a jersey on such short notice?” “at literally any store in newark. walk down mainstreet and you’ll probably find five in the front window of shops.” david answers, the sarcastic tone in his voice pissing you off further.

“goodbye. i’m gonna go walk around looking for a jersey in the freezing cold now.”

+++

to: luke hughes

hey. i know we haven’t talked in a little bit but i spoke with your brother the other day.

to: luke hughes

i’m going to the game tonight, if you would be willing to let me see you after i would really appreciate it.

to: luke hughes

i would like to talk to you.

+++

you weren’t able to find a jersey with luke’s number on it so you wore a blank jersey tonight, which kind of crushed your original plan for the evening, but you still had to try.

“are you sure sweetie? because i have no issue waiting until he shows up.”

“yes dad, i’m sure. i’ll be fine, please go.” you assured your dad, pushing him towards his car.

it wasn’t until forty minutes later that you heard footsteps approaching you. you turned your head around and frowned at the sight of jack hughes walking your way.

“sorry i’m not the brother you wanted to see, but luke left as soon as he could and ubered back to our apartment.”

you nodded in defeat. “thank you for telling me. i’ll just order myself an uber home then…tell luke i said good game and if he ever wants to talk he can message me.”

“why don’t you tell him yourself.”

+++

trinity would literally die if you told her whose car you were currently sitting shotgun in.

“luke made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk to me, or even see me. i don’t think this is a good idea jack.”

jack had convinced you that the best thing to do in this situation was to confront luke directly. not as much convinced you, but rather offered you a ride home and said he had to make a stop on the way, that stop being his and luke’s place.

“y/n luke is miserable not talking to you, and that is making me miserable.”

“well he wouldn’t be so miserable if he would just text me back, he is the one choosing to not speak to me. can we just get this over with? drive faster.”

+++

“luke’s room is down that hall, second door to the right.” jack informed you, you thanked him quietly before making your way to luke’s room.

you knocked gently and got no response so you knocked again, a little harder.

“jack i’m not in the mood right now. go away.”

you tried to speak up but nothing came out, so you just knocked again.

“jack i’m serious. this whole y/n situation is messing with my head, i played awful tonight and i just want to go to sleep.”

“well if it’s messing with you so much and making you as upset as jack says it is then maybe you should just text me back and we can figure out how to fix this.” you spoke, frustration clear in your tone.

you didn’t give him the chance to respond before you made your way out of their apartment and towards the stairwell, ordering an uber as you ran down the steps.

once outside you saw that your uber was about five minutes away so you were forced to just stand there and wait. from: luke hughes

i’m sorry.

from: luke hughes

please come back up.

to: luke hughes

no.

from: luke hughes

please. let's talk about this.

to: luke hughes

i’ve given you many chances in the past week for us to talk and you’ve ignored me each time.

to: luke hughes

it’s my turn to be upset now.

+++

that was two weeks ago and you haven’t seen or spoken to luke since.

you went to your mothers house is oregon for christmas and came back to new jersey today.

the second you ended your gift exchange with your father you went up to your room and opened your texts with luke.

from: luke hughes

y/n i’m sorry.

from: luke hughes

please talk to me.

from: luke hughes

merry christmas, i got you a gift. i asked your coworker brian where you’ve been, he said it that you were spending christmas at your moms this year so i’ll give it to you when you get back.

from: luke hughes

please text me when you get back.

from: luke hughes

i need to see you.

you spent a few moments contemplating whether to send a text or to continue ignoring him, even if the later was driving you crazy.

before you could stop yourself you sent a message, and got one back immediately.

to: luke hughes

i’m back in newark.

from: luke hughes

on my way

you slightly panicked when you realized that after nearly a month of silence between the two of you, luke was now going to be in front of you and in your presence again. you didn’t know what you were going to say, worry filled you thinking about the many outcomes that could happen.

“sweetie, luke is at the door for you.”

you timidly stood up and took a deep breath or two before making your way downstairs.

“hey luke, let’s go up to my room to talk.”

luke nodded before stepping inside, giving your father a proper greeting before heading up the stairs.

“ok, so can you start off by telling me why you ghosted me for a full week?” you asked him once he had sat down on your hammock chair, you across from him on your bed.

“you wore someone else’s jersey.” luke started, letting out a deep breath afterwards. “after you told me for months that you never wear anyone’s jersey, so you wouldn’t wear mine.”

the sound of your friends yelling “i told you so” played in your head, but you pushed it aside to focus on what was happening in front of you.

luke was now in your closet, where he would find your many, many, aho items.

“luke please get out of my closet.” you were angry, he had no reason to be searching your things.

“how many things do you own of him. jesus.” luke said once he finally walked back into your bedroom.

“luke i’m sorry that i lied to you about never wearing anyone else’s jersey, but is that seriously why you ignored me?” you were a little skeptical of his reasoning.

“why did you ignore me for multiple weeks?” luke ignored your question.

“because you were the one leaving me on read and skipping out on our plans, but then you went around telling people you were miserable not talking to me as if i was the one who failed to reach out and that made me angry. i gave you so many opportunities luke…and you didn’t take up any of them. so i got mad and i knew i was about to leave town for two weeks and i didn’t really wanna communicate with you during my vacation.”

“why did you lie to me?” luke asked, now taking a seat next to you on your bed.

“i honestly don’t know. i’ve only ever worn aho’s number, just feels weird wearing someone else’s. and i was being honest, other than aho, there has never been a player i like enough to wear their jersey until now.” you sat up from your spot and walked over to one of the gift boxes sitting on your floor, during your gift exchange with your dad you received a devils jersey with the number forty-three and hughes on the back as well as some shirts and hoodies with the same thing. “these were all gifted to me for christmas. i asked for them. i wanted to wear your jersey, i have for a while now, but i was just unsure of what it would mean. can you tell me why you got so angry?” you asked the question that had been on your mind for weeks.

“y/n i like you and i want you to be my girlfriend, i never asked you though because you wouldn’t even wear my fucking jersey no matter how much i begged you to so why would you say yes to being my girlfriend.”

“god luke again with the fucking jersey, i don’t get the big deal it’s just a piece of fabric.” you yelled, getting frustrated.

“it means something! ok y/n, it means something.” he starts. “there is a difference between wearing a jersey as a fan and wearing a jersey as a girlfriend, something personal and intimate, and you won’t even wear my jersey as a fucking fan.”

it felt like you were talking in circles and it was driving you crazy.

“that is what i’m saying luke. i didn’t ever wear your jersey because i didn’t know what it would mean. i didn’t know if we were friends or something more, and wearing your jersey could’ve given us both the wrong ideas.”

“what idea would it have given you?” luke asked, taking a step towards you.

“that i’m something more to you than a friend, and i didn’t want to think that because it isn’t true” you admitted the truth, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, but rather yourself. “-and i don’t like to get my hopes up.”

luke didn’t respond, he just sat there in silence for what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to three minutes.

“luke if you want to leave, just go. i’m sorry i ruined our friendship, i wish you the best in the rest of your career and life-”

your words were cut off by lips touching yours, luke’s lips.

after a few moments you broke the kiss, not liking how fast it was progressing.

“luke what was that-”

“i like you, y/n. as more than a friend, that is why i wanted you to wear my jersey so badly. i wanted to feel special, because you have this rule about never wearing anybody’s jersey, but you wore mine and you wore mine because i mean something to you whether that be a friend or something more, i just wanted to feel like i meant something to you.” luke practically yelled, interrupting you.

“i feel like we are both making the same points, but just phrasing them differently each time.” you spoke, trying to choose your next words carefully. “what do we do now? how do we move past this?”

“well, you could agree to go on a date with me and wear my jersey to the next home game. that would be a start.” luke offered, grabbing both of your hands. “-you could also let me kiss you again, i’d really like that.”

“deal.”

+++

“sweetie are you almost ready? we’re gonna miss warmups.”

“coming dad.”

you quickly made your way downstairs, checking your appearance in the multiple mirrors you passed by on the way towards the car.

“wearing your boyfriend's jersey i see?” your father quipped once you got into the driver’s seat, he demanded you drive because you had just gotten a new car.

“not my boyfriend.” was all you said in response.

“still? that boy needs to grow a pair.”

from: luke hughes

are we still on for after the game?

to: luke hughes

yup! meet me in the car park when you’re done?

from: luke hughes

👍

+++

after the game you parted ways with your father, him taking an uber home and leaving you with your car to drive you and luke around tonight. which isn’t traditional, especially for a first date, but you loved betty, your new car, and you wanted to drive her.

“wow the new car is dope y/n.”

you turned around and saw jack and luke walking towards you, the older hughes speaking.

“-and nice jersey, next time wear an eighty six for me, yeah?”

“never gonna happen jack.” luke started, before turning his attention to you. “you ready to go?”

“yes i am, you can put your bag in the trunk.” i opened up the trunk with my keys before getting in the driver's seat. “where are we going?”

“i’ll give you directions as you drive.” luke said, plugging his phone into the aux.

+++

a few minutes later you pulled into a qdoba.

“wow you know me so well hughes.”

“i just didn’t feel like paying extra for your queso and guac.” luke deadpanned.

“yeah right, i know i’m turning you into a qdoba enjoyer.” you teased as you entered the restaurant.

after getting our food luke gave me an address of where to drive for our late night picnic. it was a lookout place that luke had found when he first moved here, you had been here multiple times as well and knew of a good place to sit.

“follow me” you hopped over the barbed wire fence and waited until luke made it over to start walking again.

“are you sure this is allowed?” luke whispered.

“i know for a fact that it is not, but it’s fine no one is here right now it’s after dark.” you said back at full volume, earning a loud shhhh from luke in the process.

you walked a little bit more before you made it to your favorite ledge, you could see all of newark from here and a little bit of new york, but when you looked up there was a perfect view of the stars.

“how did you find this place?” luke asked, digging into his food.

“i was hiding from the cops one night and me and tyler ended up here.” luke’s eyes widened at your story. “i’ll tell you more about that later, but ever since i’ve been coming here.”

we continued to eat and talk about random things until it was time to go.

“we should probably go, it’s nearly midnight.”

+++

once you finished the drive back to luke’s apartment you got out of the car to say your goodbyes.

“well i had a lot of fun tonight, we should do it-” luke cut you off by kissing you. “you have to stop doing that.” you teased.

“sorry, it’s just that you look really good in my jersey, like really good. i was struggling not to jump over the glass when i saw you during warmups.” luke admitted, going in for another kiss. “look y/n, i was wondering if you maybe wanted to be my girlfriend?” a blush crept up luke’s neck as he spoke.

“i would love that.” you replied, a blush spread across your cheeks.

we said our goodbyes and you drove home, not expecting your father to be awake on the couch.

“oh you’re awake?” you asked, taking your shoes off.

“yeah just wanted to make sure you were safe.” your dad replied. “how is your boyfriend?”

“he is great.” you replied smiling, not correcting him for once because now he really was your boyfriend.

+++

note: BOOOO HAPPINESS no but this literally took me a month to finish because i had absolutely no energy and no inspo to write anything. idk if i like this yet…but ANYWAYS hope y’all enjoyed, leave feedback, have a great day, love y’all babes.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils #ahonice writes #ahonice

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swissboyhisch · 1 year

Text

Home Opener

Liked by njdevils, damercer and others

y/nhughes: When your younger brother pretends you don't exist (not pictured: lukey bringing me a hot chocolate) tagged: jackhughes and lhughes

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lhughes: That's why I'm the favourite brother 💅🏻

quinnhughes: keep dreaming buddy

user: how could he ignore your pretty face

colecaufield: I wouldn't ignore you y/nhughes

adamfantilli: I wouldn't dream of ignoring you pretty girl 😘

lhughes: please don't hit on my sister

lucafantilli: It's funny how you think because you're in Newark it wouldn't stop him

y/nhughes: still too young Fanta. I like my men older than me. Oh and with an accent 🫣

user: we always knew Luke Hughes was the best Hughes sibling Liked by y/nhughes

Liked by nicohischier, y/nhughes and others

njdevils: Oh Captain My Captain 🫡 tagged: nicohischier

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user: Suddenly it seems like njdevils is controlled by a gen z

user: it seems like it's definitely y/nhughes

jbratt: warrented 🥵

y/nhughes: right?

jackhughes: please don't ever hit on my friend/captain 😩

tzegras: this person should run the anahiem insta

anaheimducks: uh rude 😒

user: Nico Nico Nico

user: and suddenly he becomes beetlejuice

user: if only that worked

user: my gawd 😍😍

Liked by canucks, lhughes and others

y/nhughes: Here on hockey night we had all three Hughes brothers play (not against each other that's next month). Devils won against Bruins and Canucks won against the Kraken so was a good day in my book 👍🏻👍🏻 tagged: quinnhughes, jackhughes and lhughes

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user: y/n producing the goods

colecaufield: We also won!

y/nhughes: yay bestie 👏🏻👏🏻

nicksuzuki: was that sarcasm?

quinnhughes: nah that's just the menace 🫢

yourbestie: and you got you 5 seconds of fame on tv! Liked by y/nhughes

elhughes: So glad you guys all did amazingly

y/nhughes: yes I worked so hard

njdevils: You were running around the arena so I'd say you at least got your workout in 💪🏻

user: I had Devils on tv and the canucks on my tablet! Couldn't miss a second

umich: that maize and blue blood runs thick

y/nhughes: 〽️💙🫡

Liked by yourbestie, jbratt and others

y/nhughes: Celebrating a lot of firsts tonight 💕

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nolanmoyle: Upgrades from the partys at the hockey house 🍾

lhughes: It's just an nhl hockey house now

dduke: buddy that's a club

lhughes: how old am I? Oh right, not legal yet

y/nhughes: gee someone is a little pissy he's too young to join us yet 🙄

jackhughes: I'm not ignoring the last slide

quinnhughes: you wanna try get anything from her? go ahead

y/nhughes: 🤐🤐🤐🤐

user: The vibe in these pictures are immaculate

user: how many players were having cocktails. That table is full 🤔

damercer: Wooooooo

jbratt: fyi, we've started a bet about that last pic. Hit up damercer if you want to join hughes siblings

jackhughes: I hate you 😠

#nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nico hischier #social media imagines #swissboyhisch social media fics #swissboyhisch imagine #swissboyhisch

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mudwerks · 1 year

Photo

(via THE BLUE LANTERN: Shaken, Not Stirred: The Retro Cocktail Hour)

Cocktail ensemble, Bamberger bequest, Newark Art Museum, Newark, NJ.

#Cocktail ensemble #vintage #art #sculpture

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scifrey · 1 year

Text

Hold Tight (2/6)

Status: Complete. Unbeta’d, we die like Hob doesn’t.

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse, but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Also includes some erotic content. Please curate your internet experience accordingly.

Relationships: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Past Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past), Hector Hall/Lyta Hall (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Lyta Trevor-Hall, Daniel Hall, Rose Walker, Jed Walker

Summary:

Hob is tasked with his first quest as Vassal of the Endless, Morpheus is bad at using his words, Destiny thinks he’s so clever, Desire makes a confession, Rose Walker meets her Uncle’s boyfriend, and Lyta Hall punches Dream of the Endless in the nose. Or, the one where Hob Gadling turns into everyone’s therapist, and honestly, he ain’t mad about it.

Set at the end of Cling Fast - after the premiere of “Elizabethan Manor”, but before the Epilogue.

READ ON AO3 or below:

Chapter Two

Easter is coming up, and Hob still doesn’t teach on Tuesdays. So after some back-and-forthing via text, and a few video chats to prove that he’s not catfishing the Walkers, Hob’s got a flight booked from Heathrow to Newark Liberty for the Friday morning of the holidays. He picks a hotel at random from the half a dozen near the Walker’s apartment building, and splurges on a pair of tickets to see the big ‘It Show’ on Broadway that season. It’s been a lifetime since he saw live theatre in New York, quite literally, and Morpheus is fond of stories in all their forms.

He reserves a swanky pan-Mediterranean restaurant with a Michelin-starred chef for the same night, but doesn't bother with a second plane ticket for his lover. Morpheus is still Dream enough to travel without needing to be crammed into an airtight metal tube for nine hours, and Hob’s not wasting the money (or, frankly, the patience.)

While he’s not hurting for cash, Hob is desperately aware of how fast everything can go to hell, and his wages and savings are soon enough going to have to stretch to cover the needs and wants of two immortal humans. While it is more or less true that two can live as cheaply as one, as the old maxim goes, there are renovations he wants to make to the living quarters of the Inn so he and Morpheus aren't tripping over one another. And Morpheus is going to have to eat (whether he likes it or not), which means an increase in the grocery bill, if nothing else.

Hob assumes that eventually Morpheus will get a job, but before that he’s going to have to get used to the pleasures and frustrations of occupying just one body on the mortal plane. Though, what kind of job will be suited to a former Onieromancer, Hob can't even begin to guess. His mind baulks every time he tries to imagine Morpheus in a barista's pinny.

Hob has vague ideas of not telling Morpheus about the New York trip. Of just heading to the airport and falling asleep in New York, and shouting “surprise!” when his lover pops into existence in his hotel room. But about a week before he’s due to travel, Hob finds himself in utter brain-dead exhaustion and tipping into slumber draped over a pile of marking. He opens his eyes in the interior of an airplane.

It’s a weird amalgamation of all the earliest flights he’d ever taken, painted with an ever-shifting palette of generous legroom, outlandishly luxurious curtains and carpets, over-the-top Golden Age of Airtravel cocktails, and sexy little airhostesses (what? Hob is only human, and the outfits were designed to turn the girls wearing them into works of art. Hob's allowed to admire art.)

“I would not be opposed to wearing such an outfit if it would please you, Hob,” Morpheus rumbles in his ear, deep as night and sweet as sin. His timbre here in the Dreaming remains what Hob thinks of as his Dream Voice, laced with magic and the deepness of night. Sometimes, when he makes the effort to draw the cloak of his Endless nature about him, he can still access it in the Waking. But it's becoming less and less common. “Though I do not think my legs would be as comely.”

“They would in those heels, babe,” Hob laughs, and turns toward the window seat to catch Morpehus’ mouth quick and dirty with his own. “But that’s not why I’m dreaming about air travel.”

Morpheus bites his lower lip playfully. “Are you planning a trip, erasti?”

“Betrayed by my own subconscious,” Hob huffs, and pulls back. “It was sorta supposed to be a surprise.” Concentrating on his lucid dreaming, Hob produces replicas of the Broadway tickets.

Morpheus takes one and studies it, eyebrows lowering in confusion. “You would cross the ocean simply for a play?”

“A good play,” Hob hedges, wondering if he is really going to get away with the subterfuge.

Does he tell Morpheus it’s just for the performance, and then spring the Walkers on him?

Or would that do the opposite of what Destiny had asked, make Morpheus resent both Hob and this mortal niece and nephew? And what would it mean for this mysterious friend Lyta that Hob’s supposed to reconnect Morpheus with?

Hob hasn’t looked into her too deeply, for fear of coming off creepy or weird. However, according to both the internet and Hob’s chats with Rose, Lyta is an architect, and the sole partner in a firm that used to include her late husband. She lives in the same building as the Walkers. They share a tight bond, as Rose had been there for her husband’s death, and then Lyta returned the compassion while Rose slowly lost her mother.

Lyta’s also recently had a baby. The dates around the death of her husband don’t align with when she might have conceived, so Hob assumes there’s a new boyfriend in her life, or a rebound that had gone wrong (or right,) or the late husband had frozen his sperm, and Lyta had done IVF. All possibilities, and all none of Hob’s goddamned business.

He wants to form his own relationship with her as honestly and organically as he can, before shoving her at his lover and telling them to make up. (Hob still has no idea why she hates Morpheus.)

“Well, it’s not Shakespeare,” Morpheus allows offhandedly, manifesting a single puffball-perfect, light purple scabius blossom.

Hob laughs. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. My taste isn’t that bad!”

He takes the flower, presses it to his lips, and is about to suggest he and Morpheus join the mile high club when the blossom wavers and reblooms as a darkly purple, star-shaped nightshade.

Morpheus looks from the plant to his lover, and smirks. “Are you lying to me, Hob Gadling?”

Hob puffs out a sigh and runs his free hand through his hair. “No! No, not… not lying. Just… not telling the whole truth.” He twirls the stem of the tattle-tale flower in between his fingers, releasing the sweet scent of the flower into the cabin. Then he sets it down and takes Morpheus’s hands between his own, resting them on the narrow arm rest separating them. “I’m going to New York to perform a boon-–no don’t ask me which sibling, or what the task itself is, I won’t tell you. But I’m going to New York, and I want you to come with me.”

“To a play,” Morpheus repeats, clearly unconvinced. "For a task, as Vassal of the Endless."

“The play is a reward for your good behaviour, O Prince of Stories, and a treat for me.”

Morpheus wraps his fingers around Hob’s, tight and demanding. “And pray tell me, what does this visit entail for me, that you feel the need to pre-book a reward for my lack of a tantrum?”

Hob licks his lips. Morpheus’s starlit eyes drop to them immediately, so Hob does it again.

“You are stalling, innamorato,” Morpheus growls, but doesn’t lift his gaze away from Hob’s mouth.

“I… I’ve been in communication with Rose Walker,” Hob confesses in a rush, deciding to rip off the bandaid.

Morpheus rears back, eyebrows bouncing high, lips pursed in a pissy frown. “Who gave you permission? She is my niece–”

“You’re not her only uncle, you know,” Hob says, taking his turn to squeeze his lover’s fingers and keep him rooted to the dream seat, preventing him from whispering away in a sandy strop. “And like you said, I am Vassal of the Endless. All of the Endless, not just the siblings you get along with.”

Morpheus swallows the rest of his indignant protest with an audible click. He chews on the truth of what Hob’s saying, the look on his face suggesting that it’s awfully sour.

“Look, I know you don’t like it, but I need to see them. I need to talk to them. And I want you to come with me.”

“Why?” Morpheus grinds out, the single syllable grating against his teeth.

Hob gawps at him. “Because they’re your family, duckie. You're going to be human soon—don't tell me you don't want the family connection. Rose and Jed, they won't live forever, but they may have kids, and don't you want to be part of their lives? Don't you want that… that anchor? That privilege? I know I would give anything to know what happened to the descendants of my sisters’s living children.”

Morpheus seems to muse on this, and while Hob can't tell from his expression on what side of the fence his lover lands, he does catch the little eyelid flicker which means Morpheus has decided to acquiesce to his pleas in order to keep Hob happy. "Do you require me to intervene on your behalf with them?"

"No. I just… I want you to spend time with them, that's all," Hob says gently.

"And what does this have to do with the task laid before you by one of my siblings?"

Hob tugs on his ear, once again debating the probability of complete honesty working in his favour, or blowing up in his face. The nightshade hanging in the air between them fades away into dream sand and reforms as a spray of freesia.

Morpheus frowns at it, a fetching little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. It's the one which Hob always wants to smooth away with his thumb, and this time he lets himself reach up and do so. Morpheus transfers his gaze to Hob's face, eyes sliding back down to Hob's mouth.

He takes Hob's upraised hand gently, and presses a slow, open-mouthed and lingering kiss against Hob's wrist, testing his pulse with his night-cool tongue. Hob shudders, feeling the dream of the airplane wisp away around them.

"Very well," Morpheus rumbles. "I will do as you entreat and trust you."

"You'll meet me there?" Hob asks, even as the freesia changes again, this time into a headily perfumed white-and-yellow jonquil.

"I will. Name the day."

"Okay. I promise, Morpheus—"

"Hob," the King of Dreams and Nightmares says, and pushes Hob back onto his bed. Hob doesn’t wonder how they got to Morpheus’ private chambers in his castle. He only arches his spine and spreads his limbs wide in invitation, which his lover accepts, as he knew Morpheus would. "I have said I will attend."

Even Hob rarely sees Morpheus' bed chambers in the dreaming, for more often they make love in the Waking, or in a fantasy replica of Hob's apartment or other analogous location. The walls around them are an ever-shifting marble of purple and deep blue, the colours of the sky in the gloaming. The pillows are made up of piles of scarlet-pink-orange-peach sunset clouds, fluffy and sweet-smelling, and the bedclothes the star-pricked heavens of twilight.

If there is other furniture in the room besides the massive, body-cradling bed, Hob has no idea. He's always had much better things to pay attention to when he's in this room than the decor.

"Thank you, duckie," Hob says, as Morpheus fists his long, slim fingers in Hob's hair and tugs just enough for it to be exciting. Hob gasps, high and sweet, as Morpheus scrapes his teeth—pointed and thrillingly nightmarish—along his clavicle.

"Enough talk, Hob Gadling," Morpheus intones, his words an edict. "Put your mouth to better use."

And who is Hob to ever deny a direct order from his King?

See, one of the nice things about sex in the Dreaming is that first, Morpheus can present with any arrangement of genitals that he's feeling fit his current mood he wants. And, secondly, there does not need to be any elaborate hygiene ritual to ensure that one's body is prepared to receive a tongue.

This convenience is balanced out by the extreme inconvenience of mornings where Hob is more often than not ridiculously stuck to his PJs. A wet dream or two (or three, or four) will do that to a man. Hob could, of course, choose not to wear anything at night, but that would just mean he'd have to change the sheets every time Morpheus felt frisky, and that is more work than it's worth. Hob's seriously thinking about looking into period panties as nightwear, solely due to their absorbent properties. Hob's also begun waxing his pubic hair simply because it makes his morning showers faster.

He's not saying that the faster Morpheus the God of Sleep becomes Morph the Immortal Human full-time, the better. Of course not. Morpheus' transition should happen at his own pace and comfort level. But Hob is definitely looking forward to not having to peel himself out of his pajamas in the shower before he can start the day.

"Hob!" Morpheus says with another imperious tug of his hair. "Cease daydreaming and—"

Using the element of surprise, Hob wraps a thick thigh around Morpheus' hip, shoves his shoulder, and gets the skinny little nightmare under him.

"What are you—oh!" Morpheus gasps, as Hob folds his fingers over Morpheus' stomach, rocks back on his own heels, and hauls his lover's pelvis up to his mouth to see what he's working with.

A beautifully camelia-pink pussy pouts up at him. It is already swelling open, moist and delicious, with the cutest little clit winking at Hob from under its soft hood.

"My, my," Hob tuts, rubbing his cheek on the soft moon-pale flesh of his lover's inner thigh, leaving a deliberate ruby-red beard rash behind. "If you wanted my cock so badly, all you had to do was ask, duckie."

Morpheus gets his black-laquered nails into Hobs shoulders and digs in. "This is asking."

"Right, of course," Hob murmurs, smearing the words against Morpheus' glistening labia. "Why use words when you can just sit on my fa—mmph!"

Now it is Hob's turn to be surprised, as Morpheus surges up and, using his superior eldritch power to force Hob's shoulders back onto the springy bed to do just that. Morpheus grinds down against Hob's chin, and Hob opens his mouth, points his tongue, and puts it to the demanded use obligingly.

Even when he desires to be topped, Morpheus is bossy.

Hob wouldn't have him any other way, honestly.

From the moment Hob had craned his head back to look up at the long, lithe line of Morpheus' body in 1389, he'd known that he would be happy to be on his knees, chin tipped up and throat exposed, for the rest of his life. Acts of Service and Gifts are his love language, and like ridiculously expensive Greek wine, whole Inns, venison pasties, and appearing on a TV show to make his lover happy, Hob delights at giving orgasms, too.

Morpheus is his God, Hob is Head Priest and Supplicant, and Hob is filled with zinging joy to be made to lay back on the altar of Morpheus' regard, and worship.

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spudkid · 8 months

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January 26th -

We’ve been all over the city, with very little trouble. The reason:

This is the Uber of SE Asia. Drivers all very friendly and happy to answer questions or give advice. So this morning we grabbed another Grab to spend the afternoon in the Joo Chiat Road neighborhood. This was suggested by our friend Jessica. Interesting shop after interesting shop and food of every description.

Many of the buildings are adorned with Persnakan tiles. These decorations were a way that people showed off their wealth.

A hardware store! How do they do inventory?

After a late lunch, we retrieved our luggage and made for CHANGi airport. There are three huge terminals and the anchor is Jewel CHANGi airport that is a cross between an amusement park and the most upscale shopping mall you can imagine.

and the centering Jewel is this waterfall! We declare it the best airport in the world! We checked out bags early, enjoyed some cocktails and dinner and walked to Terminal 3 to gate B10.

It’s now 10:15pm… we take off at 00:40 on Jan 27and will arrive 171/2 later to Newark at 5:30am on Jan 27. Wrap your head around that!

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beardedmrbean · 2 years

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Federal agents have identified the man they believe posted a broad online threat against synagogues in New Jersey but do not believe he was planning to carry out a specific plot, a law enforcement official said Friday.

The man, whose identity was not immediately released, was questioned by law enforcement and told agents he had been bullied in the past and harbored anger toward Jewish people, the official said. But investigators do not believe the man had the means or motive to carry out any specific attack, the official added.

The official could not discuss details of the investigation publicly and spoke to The Associated Press on condition of anonymity.

The FBI said Thursday that it had received credible information about a “broad” threat to synagogues in New Jersey, a warning that prompted some municipalities to send extra police officers to guard houses of worship.

The nature of the threat was vague. The FBI’s Newark office released a statement urging synagogues to “take all security precautions to protect your community and facility” but wouldn’t say anything about who made the threat or why.

The alert was posted after officials discovered an online threat directed broadly at synagogues in New Jersey, the law enforcement official said Thursday. The posting did not target any specific synagogue by name, the official said.

Public warnings about nonspecific threats against Jewish institutions, made by a variety of groups including Christian supremacists and Islamist extremists, aren’t unusual in the New York City metropolitan area, and many turn out to be false alarms. But the area has also seen deadly attacks.

Five years ago, two New Jersey men were sentenced to 35 years in prison after being convicted of a series of attacks in 2012 that included the firebombings of two synagogues. They also threw a Molotov cocktail into the home of a rabbi as he slept with his wife and children.

In 2019, a man stabbed five people at a Hanukkah celebration at a rabbi’s home in an Orthodox Jewish community north of New York City, fatally wounding one person.

#nunyas news #don't forget the #black hebrew israelites #in your list of people threatening the jewish population

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artificialqueens · 2 years

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Galactica, Chapter 103 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Fame agreed to an interview with Vogue to get back at her former best friend and current nemesis, Bianca Del Rio, and Raja witnessed a suspicious interaction between Violet and Tatianna at the Galactica casting.

This Chapter: New York Fashion Week kicks off with model mayhem, a savvy and beautiful journalist, a cocktail party, and some unexpected carnage.

***

“Your phone?” Bimini looked over her shoulder, a young brunette model standing behind her. She was stirring a big pot of oatmeal, the kitchen filled with girls at varying stages of awake. “Well I’m sure it’s here somewhere-“ She was cut off, as noise erupted from the hallway.

“Shit.” Bimini dropped the spoon, rushing out to see two girls fighting just outside the bathroom.

She was never having kids. Ever

“Girls! Girls!” Bimini forced herself between them, beyond grateful that she hadn’t put in earrings “Break it up!”

She couldn’t understand them, both girls shouting in some Eastern European language, trying to get past her to get to each other, “Ow! No hair pulling!”

Bimini was definitely asking for extra compensation once this was all over.

Fashion Weeks were usually chaotic, Elite flying girls in from all over the world to see if they could make it on the America market.

This Fashion Week, however, seemed like it was going to be especially chaotic, since the apartment was completely overbooked, girls sleeping on air mattresses and couches because construction had been severely extended on two other apartments and by the time anyone realized how bad it was, every hotel from here to Newark was completely full.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Bimini finally got them apart, really wishing she had taken the time to make that bathroom schedule last night, when Gigi peeked around the corner into the hallway.

“Bimini?” Gigi bit her lip, an unsure note in her tone. “I think the oatmeal is burning.”

“So stir it!”

“Okay!” Gigi’s head disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and for a second, Bimini felt bad for almost snapping, Gigi so sensitive when it came down to it.

She was just about to go back to the kitchen to salvage the oatmeal, and see if Gigi needed reassurance, when she heard a loud groan coming from the living room. Bimini walked in, hoping not to see another disaster. Thankfully, all she spotted was one of the models, turning their suitcase inside out.

Tia was wearing a tight, distressed denim dress, fishnet tights, long braids with beads spilling over her shoulder.

“Everything okay sweetheart?”

“No.” Tia threw some of her hair over her shoulder, her nails long in a way Bimini knew Sutan would never allow her during a replacement casting week, but not every agent at Elite was as diligent and focused on details as hers was, and some houses did like their girls to have more personality. “I can’t find my portfolio!”

The majority of the models that resided with them were new hires, girls who had yet to make their big break, or any break for that matter, so they were in New York to fill in whatever holes showed up, Tia one of them.

“Come have some breakfast,” Bimini tried for a reassuring smile, knowing how important it was for the models to have at least something in their stomachs, “And I’ll help you look after.”

***

“It’s true!” Shea exclaimed, grinning at the beaming smile on Miss Fame’s face. “That’s why I pitched this story, even though everyone told me you’d never agree to it in a million years.”

“Well…I suppose you proved them wrong,” she said, with a conspiratorial wink. They were sitting on the white couch in Fame’s office at Galactica, a full breakfast spread on the coffee table, a few pieces of fruit on Fame’s plate.

“I heard that!” Shea laughed. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure why she had been so nervous leading up to this interview.

Miss Fame was known as an ice queen, and she had been overly formal for the first few minutes, but once they started talking about her inspiration for this year’s runway (along with Shea’s personal favorite Galactica shows from past seasons), she’d loosened up completely.

Shea had been prepared to spend days cracking through an icy exterior only to have Fame melt the second the words ‘aubergine silk’ slipped from her lips, beaming with pride at the mention of their 2012 spring line.

Fame was funny, present and interesting, her blue eyes following Shea’s with complete attention. She was also beautiful, not a hair out of place, blonde strands touching her chin, perfect red lips slightly parted. Her hands were adorned with jewels and folded neatly in her lap, a red sole peeking out from underneath her heels, Fame wearing sparkling white without looking like a bride.

“Another reason I was obsessed with that show,” Shea said, “is that, in a way, it was like an anniversary show for you, right? Since you were in the American View show in 2002?”

“Yes, that’s true,” Fame agreed, nodding and taking a small sip of her coffee, the cup not the standard white porcelain Shea was used to seeing in corporate offices, but instead what looked like handmade ceramic. Fame put it down, thinking for a moment before thoughtfully adding, “It was quite an honor to be in that show.”

“You know, I must admit, as much research as I did for this, well before the assignment was approved…” At this, Fame smiled again, making Shea feel brave enough to continue, “...though you’ve discussed the show itself, I’ve never actually heard you discuss the lead-up…”

“Well…” Fame paused, furrowing her brow, and for a second Shea worried that she’d spoiled all their built-up trust by prying too deeply too early. “It’s not an easy thing to talk about.”

“Right. Of course,” Shea agreed quickly. “And of course you don��t have to if you’re not comfortable.”

“It’s not that, exactly. It’s just that…” Fame moved on the couch, recrossing her legs to the other side. “It seems rather petty to talk about our runway show being canceled when so many people died.”

Fashion Week in 2002 had been unlike any other in history. Halfway through the week, when 9/11 devastated New York City, all of the remaining shows were canceled - for obvious reasons. And Miss Fame was right. To frame that cancellation as some kind of horrible loss could seem tone deaf at best and utterly insensitive at worst.

“No one would think you were comparing it to a national tragedy,” Shea said, “But you must have invested quite a lot of time and energy into it, since that would have been your first show.”

“We did,” Fame said, drumming her fingers on her leg, her red nails beautiful against the white. “And fortunately for us, we’d done this absolutely stunning photo shoot with all of the looks ahead of time, because we were preparing to give booklets out at the show, but those photos ended up being the basis of our first website instead.”

“I assume that’s what made Vogue take notice?” Shea asked. Vogue’s editorial board had very quickly arranged for a big group show to feature some of the young designers who’d had their events canceled, the show that became the famous American View show that launched Galactica.

“Yes, it was…and also, I did know someone working at Vogue at the time who I’m sure put in a good word for us.”

Shea nodded, trying not to give away in her expression that she knew the ‘someone’ Fame spoke of was Bianca Del Rio. Besides Miss Fame’s infamously reserved approach to the press, one of the reasons Shea’s colleagues said she’d never do this interview was her close friendship with BDR, now editor-in-chief of Marie Claire, who’d managed to snatch every exclusive with Fame for the past 7 years, at least.

Shea also knew though, that since Bianca had shown up to the Galactica holiday party with Miss Fame’s then-assistant on her arm, that the two of them hadn’t been seen in public together once.

Shea wasn’t an idiot. She knew damn well that something was going on, and if that something helped her get the most plumb interview of the year, she wasn’t above using it—something she was certain that BDR would do herself if she could.

“When we heard about the show, of course we were beyond thrilled and grateful to even be considered, much less selected to participate. I still remember putting together the lookbook for them,” she said with a chuckle. “We thought it was such an insane longshot. But they liked it, and…the rest is history.”

“I honestly can’t believe that you managed to create such iconic looks for your very first runway,” Shea gushed, eyes sparkling. She knew she was laying it on thick, but Miss Fame appeared to be fine with it—probably because everything she said was true. Galactica’s 5-piece mini-collection had been the undisputed star of the American View show, and when they won the first CFDA Vogue Fashion Fund two years later, not a single soul was surprised.

“I had a lot of creative energy built up inside of me, and Raja…people don’t realize what a shrewd editorial eye she has. How clever she is. I think she’s still one of the most innovative minds in fashion today—I’m extremely fortunate to have crossed paths with her when I did.”

“I’m sure she feels the same way.”

“I hope so!” Fame replied with a silky laugh, adding, “Because I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

The first time Nicky met Shea, they were at Gustavino’s for a Dior launch party, after which a group of them ended up at some little after-hours club in Chinatown, where they partied well into the early morning. She couldn't remember exactly, but she had vague memories of them making out at one point. However, the next time they saw each other, it was nothing but professional.

They’d crossed paths a few more times while she was with Tory Burch, and Nicky was always very impressed with Shea’s charm, sharp sense of humor, and edgy fashion sense. She almost laughed when she saw her today, because it was by far the most conservative outfit she’d ever seen on her—it may as well have been a Chanel suit complete with pillbox hat and string of pearls.

When Nicky entered Fame’s office to bring them another round of coffee (and to remind them that they needed to leave shortly for Bryant Park), Fame looked surprised.

“Is it 10:30 already?” she asked, looking at the delicate antique watch on her wrist. “Where has the time gone?”

“Time flies when you’re talking to your new bestie,” Shea said, and Fame let out a girlish laugh.

“I suppose so!”

“Well, we’ll let you besties know when the car is downstairs,” Nicky said, shutting the door behind her to find Violet pacing around.

“How did she look? Stressed? Anxious?” Violet asked, wringing her hands.

“No, she looked…quite content, actually.” Nicky shrugged, and Violet groaned. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Violet said in a whisper, shaking her head. “This is a terrible idea. Fame’s just trying to get back at Bianca, and-”

“Well, it seems alright,” Nicky said. She truly understood Violet’s concern. Ever since learning how deep the rift really was between Miss Fame and Bianca Del Rio, she’d also been on the lookout for potential problems. This Vogue exclusive was a very obvious revenge plot, given the deep animosity between BDR and Anna Wintour. But Nicky also knew that Shea was a consummate professional, and Miss Fame seemed to be enjoying her company far more than she anticipated. She was certainly more relaxed than Nicky had ever observed her in a televised interview setting. “They were both smiling and laughing, I don’t think you need to worry-”

“Okay…okay, that’s…weird. But good. I guess.” Violet sighed. Not worrying was probably impossible for her, poor girl. “Now we have to focus on getting her downstairs so that we’re not late for Iris van Herpen.”

“We won’t be late. I just gave her a warning-”

“We can’t be sure. Traffic is supposedly out of control today. I’m gonna check on the car again.” Violet walked back around to her desk, picking up the phone to call the driver.

“I know it’s bad, but breathe. Worst case, we’ll get on the subway.”

“What?” Violet looked up, a horrified expression on her face. “Yeah. Right. We’ll get her on the subway,” Violet’s tone was as dry as the Sahara desert. “And how are you going to explain the stench of urine? Immersive performance art?”

Nicky snorted with laughter. “I’m going to use that someday, for sure.”

***

Violet walked into the party, looking around in an attempt to spot Fame’s blonde head. Her boss didn’t need to see her, or more accurately, didn’t want to see her, but Violet still needed to stay close by, had to wait the customary 15 minutes to make sure that everything was okay before she left.

She wasn’t sure if it would be needed today though, Shea and Fame having a suspiciously good time together, Violet wondering to herself several times throughout the day if someone had body snatched her boss. Sure, it looked like Fame, but Violet had never seen her so interested in someone, so willing to share her perspective with someone who was essentially a stranger—and worse, a stranger in the press.

Violet was dead on her feet, her ankle aching in her high heels, but she had still told Nicky to go home, that she’d take care of this. Nicky had tried to protest, but Violet didn’t want her to burn out, couldn’t deal with it if Nicky went down the same road as Courtney. Besides, she knew that there must be dozens of parties Nicky would rather go to than one with their bosses.

Violet was considering whether or not she would have time for a glass of champagne, if it’d be wise to try and dim the pain with alcohol, when she heard a familiar voice say her name.

“Violet!”

She turned around, spotting Sutan who was walking towards her, a big smile on his face. He was a sight for sore eyes, so wonderfully familiar and known. He wasn’t wearing his usual suits, Sutan making a pitstop at home to change into the tightfitting shirt with swirling shades of red and blue that he was wearing.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Sutan pulled her into a one-armed hug, holding his drink to the side as he pressed a kiss against her cheek. “What a delightful surprise.”

“Hi,” she smiled, biting her lip and trying to remember if she had seen any cameras, if she could steal a kiss from her boyfriend's lips, when she noticed that someone was standing right behind him.

Karl Westerberg had his arms crossed, a bored expression on his face. He was wearing a burgundy suit, a streak of white in his hair. It reminded Violet of Cruella De Ville, a cartoon villain from one of the few movies she had actually liked as a child, something equally sinister about Karl, though the white did suit his appearance.

“Do you have time for a drink?” Sutan pulled back, his free hand gliding down to her elbow, his fingers closing around it. “Karl and I only just hit the bar-”

“Umh,” Violet looked around, remembering that she was supposed to keep an eye on Fame. “I-” Where was Fame? Her phone was silent, but that didn’t mean that everything was okay. “I have to-”

“Sutan,” Karl drawled, “It seems like your girlfriend has better things to do than hang around with us.”

Violet knew she hadn’t made the best impression on Karl at the Christmas Party, the pain in her foot absolutely killing her during that whole disastrous night, but she hadn’t expected the bitter tone from him, hadn’t imagined the blatant display of disinterest.

“Ow, don’t be like that.” Sutan laughed, completely ignoring Karl, who was looking directly at Violet, not an ounce of excitement on his face. “You’re not busy, right lovely eyes?” Sutan squeezed her elbow, an almost pleading tone in his deep voice. “Just one drink.”

Violet knew Sutan was leaving for Europe, knew that in 5 short days she wouldn’t see him for three whole weeks. She didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want to have Karl as an enemy, but she wanted to miss out on time with Sutan even less, so she took a deep breath, looking up at her boyfriend.

“I can have one drink.”

“Yay.” Karl interjected, completely deadpan as he emptied his cocktail.

Detox was considering whether or not he wanted a third whiskey, when he heard his name being yelled.

“De!”

No one called Detox ‘De’ except his friends, and as he turned around, he saw Fame come towards him.

“Famie, hi!” Detox smiled, making sure to hold his drink away as he leaned in for a hug, barely pressing his lips against her cheeks as they exchanged kisses, careful not to mess up her makeup.

“Where’s Juju?” Fame looked up at him, her blue eyes searching his face. Sometimes, in moments like this, Detox had to commend Fame for her skincare regimen, her face still so close to the one he remembered from over 15 years ago.

“At home.” They had originally intended to go together, a party always a good excuse for some adult time, but when Juju had returned from the salon, she had gone directly for the couch and plopped down. When Detox had asked her if she needed to go change, Juju had told him to suck her dick, Owen gasping in delight at his mother’s language. “No emergencies, don’t worry.”

He wasn’t usually the one to reassure Fame—that was the girls’ job—but he had heard through Juju who had heard it from Raven that Raja had thought Sutan called about some problem with their mom, so he wanted to make sure that she didn’t start to make up chaos scenarios about the pregnancy, an anxious Fame a disaster to be around.

“Good,” Fame released him, taking a step back, Detox only now realizing that there was someone behind her, standing patiently at her elbow. “De, this is Shea, Shea, please meet Matthew Sanderson. Editor of OK! Magazine and one of my dearest friends.”

“Hello,” Detox held his hand out to the elegant, slightly familiar girl, unable to place her exactly but going with the flow, though he was unsure why Fame was introducing them. Fame didn’t network, that part of Galactica’s success up to Raja and Pearl. If anyone wanted anything, they came to her, so this was very out of the ordinary.

“Shea is a journalist with Vogue. She’s doing a profile on me, and covering our show this week for the magazine.” Fame punctuated her statement with a benign smile.

Ah. Detox bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing his smile. There it was. The reason Fame was acting so out of character.

Detox knew that the girls were fighting, knew that Fame and Bianca had dug deep in their separate trenches, but this, this was just the juiciest, most delicious retaliation, the drama soaring to brand new heights.

Bianca would actually shit bricks when she saw the headline in Vogue—and Detox couldn’t fucking wait. There was no way Juju wouldn’t be sleeping when he returned from the party, but he knew that she would forgive him for waking her up, when he shared the latest development in the petty war between their friends.

“And that’s why I’ll never ever drink another ounce of absinthe.” Sutan grinned, enjoying the sounds of laughter from the group he was standing with as he finished his story. A casting director he knew in passing started their own story about one too many margaritas. Sutan tried to follow, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at him.

He tried to be discreet, casting a glance around the room, when he saw Violet standing against the wall, her brown eyes resting on him.

“Hey man,” Sutan tapped his neighbor on the shoulder with an open palm, speaking in a low tone, “I’m grabbing a smoke.” He didn’t wait for a reply to leave, Violet drawing him in like she was emitting a siren call.

She was beautiful as always, something so delightfully prim and proper about her when she was dressed up in full assistance mode, the dark desire to mess her up and make her beg briefly rearing its head.

“Hey.” Sutan leaned against the wall next to her, looking out at the crowd, knowing that Violet wouldn’t appreciate it if he acted too familiar with her.

“Hey.” The corner of Violet’s mouth crinkled upwards, a smile playing on her lips. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Sutan couldn’t help the shocked expression, Violet’s words not at all what he was expecting.

“Mmh.” Violet nodded. “Fame told me I’m dismissed for the night, so I’m going home.”

“Home?” When Sutan had bumped into Violet, he had expected her to spend the night, to get the chance to have some time with his girlfriend since the universe had decided to throw them together.

“Are you just repeating everything I’m saying?” Violet looked up at him, one of her eyebrows raised, a displeased frown on her face.

“Yes.” Sutan caught himself, realizing what he had just said. “I mean no. I mean. Are you going home? Seriously? I thought you were coming back to mine.” Saying it out loud, Sutan could hear how pathetic it sounded, how wistful his voice was, but he couldn’t help it.

He wanted it, and he wanted it badly.

“Are you ready to leave?” Violet tilted her head towards the party, and Sutan looked out at it.

“No. Maybe, I don’t-” He wasn’t ready to leave, wasn’t anywhere near being able to get out, since he was still cleaning up after the Raven incident. Telling stories of past parties, shaking hands and sharing drinks probably didn’t seem like work from the outside, but it was work, getting invited to the right art shows, the right restaurant openings and the right club launches the exact thing that saved an agent's reputation when something like a Raven debacle went down. “I can try to be quick, but-”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Violet got on her toes, pressing a quick peck into his cheek before pushing away from the wall to leave. “I’ll see you.”

Sutan reached up, touching his cheek, a wave of regret washing through him as he watched Violet walk away.

He knew they had plans later in the week, knew that he’d see her before leaving for Europe, but he had to admit that it stung like hell to feel like he had just been dismissed by his own girlfriend.

Raja was chewing on her straw. It was a terrible habit, but it was either that, or spewing the venom she had brewing in her gut.

Raja had just seen Violet walk away from her brother, the wounded look on Sutan’s face grating on her nerves. She knew that some people thought she was overly sensitive, that she and her twin were too close, but Raja couldn’t stomach seeing Sutan hurt, her heart breaking when he was upset or distressed.

Sutan loved Violet, or at least, he believed that he loved her, and while it seemed like Violet was being truthful with her brother, Raja just couldn’t get the brief scene between Violet and the model out of her head.

No straight girl looked at another woman like that, no straight girl blushed that prettily, looked so shy, acted as awkward as Violet had.

Raja didn’t know what Violet’s angle was yet, didn’t know what long con she was playing, whether she was using her brother for fame, money or simple connections still unclear.

Part of Raja had wanted to tell Sutan immediately that Violet was bad news, but she hadn’t found the way in yet, didn’t know how to make Sutan understand that she was protecting him instead of ‘just spreading untrue rumors Raja,’ her brother stupidly loyal to the people he deluded himself with.

Raja bit through the straw, the black plastic digging into her tongue. She’d make a plan, and force her brother to see that Violet couldn’t be trusted.

***

Trixie pushed the door to his office, flicking on the light and stepping inside while unhooking his fanny pack so he could throw it on the couch.

He didn’t need to be here, the office completely empty, but he had to check his emails, and since Katya had fallen pregnant he couldn’t concentrate when she was home, all his attention going directly to her.

Trixie walked over to his desk, expecting a few bits and bobs to have gathered there during the day, all kinds of samples, paperwork and trinkets collecting at lightning speed. What he hadn't expected was a thick white paper folder, bits of fabric sticking out of it.

Trixie picked it up, a small smile on his lips. When Violet had turned in her initial pitch for Raja’s Met Gala look, he didn’t think they’d get it back so soon.

Raja had obviously been restless and nervous, since she had to have taken it home with her to go over it, Fashion Weeks sometimes doing that to her.

Trixie opened the folder, his smile disappearing as he flicked through.

Raja had crossed out the majority of the reference pictures, thick red sharpie notes and circles littered all over the pages, covering Violet’s careful handwriting.

It was never a good sign when Raja tore something apart this much, and while Trixie hoped she had just looked at it while she was in a bad mood, it became more and more clear that it wasn’t the case as he finished reading Raja’s feedback.

Trixie was disappointed, but if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t that surprised. It seemed like it had been a collective decision amongst his designers to have Violet attempt to design for Raja, and while he did listen to his staff, Trixie had instantly been weary of the idea.

It didn’t have anything to do with Violet’s diligence or her work ethic, Trixie completely confident that she could handle almost anything he threw at her, but at their core, Raja and Violet had polar opposite design aesthetics.

Violet’s work was so delicate and refined, almost dream-like in its softness, the already ingrained signature palette and style so rare for such a young designer, Violet’s voice crisp and clear, but it didn’t fit Raja.

Raja was edges and jewel tones, deep saturated colors and outfits that made her look like a boss bitch no one dared fuck with, balancing on the edge of modesty and sex. Jovan was much more in her wheelhouse, but they always butted heads when they had to work directly, Jovan refusing to compromise his visions.

Trixie put the folder down. He could give it back to Violet, could give her a chance to get it right, but he didn’t want to. Violet would twist herself into a knot over it, maybe even compromise what she did best in a misguided attempt to do what she thought was needed.

Trixie made a quick decision, grabbing a pink sharpie to write out Aurora’s name, three layers of handwriting on the paper.

He’d give the concept to his newest hire, the British punk twist that he knew Aurora could grow into probably exactly what Raja needed.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #bimini bon boulash #shea coulee #miss fame #nicky doll #violet chachki #raja gemini #manila luzon #detox icunt #trixie mattel #gigi goode #tia kofi #lesbian au #fashion au

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