#and then he introduces himself and I recognize the name and I ask what part of town everyone is from

[silly-things6]

Stripper! Reader x Sylus

Afab reader, reader has female anatomy (basically mc but she’s a stripper)

I did not intend for this to come out on Christmas Eve, but happy holidays, everyone

⚠️MINORS DNI I WILL TELL YOUR MOM⚠️

Warnings: Y/N used, porn wit tiny bit of plot striping, pole dancing,buying your love, lap dances, man handling over clothes touching, mating press implied , tinny bit of a breeding kink , no protection (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, semi public sex,no after care, hitting and quitting it (kiiiinda?) lemme know if I missed anything )

I was originally going to write something for dragon sylus but this idea popped into my head,

I mostly do visual references and small stuff so my writing might be a little off but I hope you like it

you were a ‘dancer’ at a club called “The golden flamingo.” It was a nice club most oh the clients who showed up were rich businessmen who wanted a place to feel special or hold business meetings.you started working there a few months ago.the clients tipped well enough so you couldn’t really complain.tonight however your boss seemed to be especially stressed. Walking back and forth on the main floor making sure everything was set up perfectly. He wouldn’t explain to anyone why he was so stressed only that a special guest was coming in today. You got ready to go on the stage, wearing a lacy red bra with a pair of lace panties, along with some stalking and a garter to hold them up. Your heals click on the floor as you quickly make your way to the stage so you don’t miss your Que

you were doing your usual routine of dancing on the silver pole. You grip on the pole and spin to the other side, that’s when you see a pair of red eyes locked onto you. A tall man with white hair in a very nice suit with his jacket casually thrown over his shoulders one you didn’t recognize, was sipping on a glass of whiskey and staring right at you. you finished up your routine still not able to shake the feeling of the man’s eyes on you. You take your money and shove them in the band of your bottoms. You step of the stage just as another girl replaces you on the pole. almost as soon as you were on the main floor the man who was staring at you walks over at you and stands before you. He introduces himself a a business man named Sylus, The two of you talk for a few moments before he asks if he can take you to a privet room.you accept and you make it to one of the fancier VIP rooms. Sylus takes a seat on the plush Red sofa with his long arms resting along the back of it.

”so sweetie what’s your name?” He asked cocking his head to the side a bit. You tell him your stage name which causes the man to laugh.

“No no..your real name.” You were caught off guard by this, you’ve never had a client ask or really care about your name is.

“Y/N”

“That’s a pretty name, sweetie. So what kind of services do you usually do back here? It’s my first time getting these kinds of services at this location.”

“Hmm well how about a lap dance, sugar.”

Every time you talk to a client you put on this sickly sweet fake voice that makes you internally cringe at your self. Sylus Seems to catch the fact the way you talk but be he doesn’t say anything. You walk over to him, stand in between his already spread legs. You start to sway your hips to the beat of the loud club music, Sylus slyly smirks his eyes locking to your hips as you move them. You tun yourself around and move your ass onto his lap. You rest your back on his chest and your head on his shoulder as you start to move your ass up and down his lap. You could definitely feel him get hard under you, which is no big surprise. A mix of the friction and having a barely dressed woman on top of them would definitely do that. You almost blush as you feel just how big he is under his suit pants, oh fuck this guy is big big. A part of you wants to at least see the monster he had trapped under there.

Sylus Smirks as the dance continues eventually his hands drift to your hips.

“ we have a no touching rule.”

You say reaching down to move syluss Hands but he just chuckles.

“Oh darling.. considering this is my club I think I’ll do what I please.”

That’s when it hit you, you weren’t dancing for just anyone, you were dancing for the man that owned this club, and many others around town. In all honesty you had no way of knowing since you, and most of the staff who worked here, have never met the mysterious man who owned the club. For some reason you decided to test your luck with him, still nudging away his hands before you stand infront of him with your hands on your hips.

“You still have to fallow the rules like everyone else, ya know. Not gonna let you just wave your status around to get what you want.”

“Oh you have claws don’t you kitten? how about this”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bit of money and counts it.

“Three hundred to let my touch you”

He says holding the money out to you. You hesitate for a second but against your better judgement you take the money and put in in the waistband of your panties.

“Alright, just be careful with where you touch or I’ll scream for the bouncers.”

“Alright, come here sweetie.”

You take a few more steps to Sylus Standing between his spread legs. His hands immediately go to your hips and rub gently up and down them, his touch was soft at first but slowly becoming rough and almost demanding. He moves his hands up to your chests, his large hands cut your breasts perfectly.

“You should take this flimsy little bra off”

“That’s a different kind of service with a different kind o-“

“two hundred more dollars?”

“Okay deal.”

With that you reach back and unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor between you and Sylus. The cool air of the room made your nipples harden rather quickly. He lets out a whistle as he gets a full view of his breasts his hands immediately reach forward and grab onto the mounds on your chest, the palm of his hands a warm compared to room.

He fondles your breasts for a minute, seemingly memorized. Really? A man who owns plenty of clubs like this is so obsessed with playing with your boobs? What’s this guys deal? As you were lost with thought he leans forward and plants a kiss on your neck out of nowhere.

“Woah-! What are you-!”

He started to suck on the spot he just licked, leaving a dark red mark when he pulls his soft pink lips away.

“Sorry Darling, you just looked to good not to have a taste of. Is this okay?”

He asked his red eyes half lidded. Everything in your brain was telling you to tell him no..but it did feel good having him leave that mark on your skin, so against your better judgement you let out a shakey

“Yes”

With your permission Sylus goes back to sucking on your neck, sucking on your most sensitive parts. He eventually moves down and pops one of your already hardened nipples into his warm mouth. You don’t stop him as her roughly sucks and plays with your nipples, you also don’t stop him when his large hand moves in between your thighs, rubbing two fingers over your panties, right over your clit.

“S-sylus, shouldn’t be- can’t”

“Shhh sweetie, I can feel you want this. I can feel the wetness already soaking through your panties.”

He was right, you were soaked. You have been since you felt his hard cock against you during your lap dance. His fingers move quicker against you. He keeps changing from nipple to nipple pinching and licking them. After a few minutes, when your pussy starts to twitch wanting some sort of relies, he pulls away and looks up at your blushing face.

“Want more then just my fingers pretty girl?”

Again, you know you should just say no, you’re technically still working but before you can say anything week “yes” slips past your lips. He smirks and in and in an instant he grabs your hips and switched up positions. He puts you down on the red couch somewhat roughly and pulls your legs apart, watching your body shiver under him for a second before he takes off his belt and drops it on the ground. His suit pants and boxers are pulled down just enough to free his hard dick. Your Jaw drops as you see it, god it was BIG you weren’t totally sure if he was gonna fit.

“Hmm, like this sweetie? You’re gonna fit this thick cock inside of you, but I should probably prep you a little bit since I’m feeling nice.”

With that Sylus gets on his knees in front of you, nestling himself comfortably between your legs. He pushes up your thighs and then rests them on his shoulders. He reaches forward and without a warning he takes your panties in both of his hands and rips them in half.”

“Hey! Why did you do that?!?!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new pair”

“But I don’t want a~ ohhhh!”

Before you could fully respond Sylus had his mouth on your clit and started to lightly suck on it. His fingers were also playing with your wet entrance. Your back arches up off the couch when his long fingers slide into you. His movements are slow at first, but he tilts his fingers so he was hitting your G-spot just right, the sucking on your clit gets more instance as well. Your hands reach down to pull at his hair.

“Ahha! Sylus! So much!”

This encouraging seems to make him go faster basically making out with your clit, his fingers plunging into you like his life depended on it.

“Sy- ahah! Gonna cum! Don’t stop! Ahh!”

Sylus thinks about stoping right there, he thought about letting you tear on the edge of your explosive orgasm for just a little bit he decides to be gracious and let you come on his tongue and fingers. Your entire body twitches as a rush comes through you and warm,sweet liquid coming out of your pussy and covering his fingers in your love juices. He pulls away staring down at your post Orgasam glow, he takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth sucking of your cum. Sylus swipes a finger in between your folds, collecting some more of your wetness, and then he brings his fingers to your own mouth and commands you to suck his slick covered finger so you could taste your.

“Mm now you’re ready for my cock, sweetie.”

He stands up and leans over you practically folding you in half.

“Sylus- please need it.”

He smirks at your eagerness and lines up his cock at your entrance. He rubs it a few times In between your folds and onto your sensitive clit.

“So ready for me, wet whore.”

Sylus slips his cock into your wanting hole. He grunts as he finally has you around him. You reach up and grab onto his muscular arms through his suit shirt. He stretched you out so deliciously, of course it hurt a little bit you’ve never taken anything as big.

“So warm and wet sweetie- ohh and tight. Gonna become addicted to your pussy Y/N!”

After a few moments of you adjusting to syluss dick his hips start to move He goes almost painstakingly slow at first, despite his rough demeanor, he’s doing his best not to fuck youwith no restraint, to let you get used to the feeling. You of course were already a mess, his dick was against every good spot inside of you at once some how.

“I’m going to start moving faster now, claim this pussy as mine forever sweetie!”

And he does just not moving his hips I don’t know Almost inhuman speed. Sylus grabs onto your thighs, somehow able to bend you even more and half a few pounds into you in a perfect rhythm.  the only sounds being heard in this VIP room was the beat from the music in the main club and the sound of your skin slapping together. you couldn’t articulate any proper words the only legible words able to come out of your mouth being his name and:

“good fuck fuck full! Ah SYLUS AHHH!”

“Fuck, oh I’m gonna fill up this pussy! Make you all mine my little slut, someone I can fuck and fill up whenever I want, but first I need you to come with my cock, I need it! Agh! Cum for me!”

you didn’t try to hold back slightly but a mix of his words and where was hitting somehow pushed you over the edge, even though you just came not too long ago. As your orgasm starts to hit you, Sylus grabs onto the bottom of your ass and pulls you up slightly, so your hips were raised above the couch. You scream out his name during the climax over and over again. That’s what pushes him over the edge. Syluss hips start to stutter a little bit.

 “That’s it! Gonna fill up this lovely pussy!”

Oh and he dose. He just sent them what time before warm ropes of his come shoots out of his cock deep inside of you, he shallowly thrust a few more times making sure your full to the brim before he pulls out. He lets your bottom, half rest onto the soft couch then pulls out. He watches his white seed drip out of your warn out hole. Seeing this sylus sighs and takes two of his fingers and scoops up some of your cum and pushes his cum back into you.

“Can’t be waisting thathmm?”

you lay there half on the couch your bottom half dropped to the floor as Sylus gets up and reequip his pants and belt.

“Mm that was great. I’ll definitely be coming back for more, or maybe I’ll call you over to my place for a special show? I do owe you a new pair of panties don’t I, sweetie?”

He takes out about $200 and sets it next to your head.

“ and I’ll make sure to tell your boss that you’re going home for the night, see you next time, sweetie.”

And with that he was gone, and you were left with the hope that his words were true and that you would be seeing him again, sooner rather than later.

___________________________________________

[pearl-blue-musings]

oh, um. I was wondering if you could do this thing where the reader is Shinsou’s comfort character and stood up to him when he was being bullied and all the villain insults. I know it’s not much detail but it would be nice if you could do it! Thanks!

Oh my goodness of course anon!! I love this idea so much. I used a fem/afab reader!

Age 4

The doctor hands your mom and dad a couple pamphlets as they hold back tears. Sitting in your own chair, you kick your little legs and stare at your feet in confusion. The x-ray on the wall shows your bones. There’s nothing wrong with them, you think. And that’s the problem.

There was nothing special about you.

Your parents both had quirks so you thought you also would’ve been special like them. But you’re an anomaly. An outlier. The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur to you. Your parents had hugged you tightly, and you know that you said that you still love them and they love you. But all that’s going through your growing brain is that you’re not normal.

That weekend, your mom takes you to a support group of quirkless or shunned quirks. Your grip on your mom’s hand is tight as she encourages you to meet some new friends. You glance around shyly, slowly realizing that no one from your daycare or school is here. You let go and trudge along, your little legs taking you to a corner with some coloring books. A boy nearby with distinguishable purple hair sits by himself, and so you proceed to sit next to him. He gives you a guarded look.

You wave and he curls in on himself. “Hi,” you start before you introduce yourself. “My mom told me to make friends here. So I said my name, what’s yours?”

The boy interlocks his fingers and swings his feet.

“Shinsou Hitoshi.”

Age 8

Lunch time was always the best part of the day. It meant you could hangout with Shinsou uninterrupted. The two of you, through the networking of your mothers, realized you live close by and began to walk to school together. The friendship was a bumpy start, but what’s a little girl to do?

“Did you watch the new ranger show last night? It was an All Might special!”

Shinsou nods next to you eagerly, his bento half eaten. His chubby cheeks are full of onigiri as he swallows. “It was so cool,” he emphasized, “but I’m still waiting for the day they talk about Eraserhead!”

You giggle and stick out your tongue. “That’s only because he’s similar to you!” You lightly tease him and keep eating your lunch. “Are you gonna be at the group meet?” You frown as he shakes his head. Since his quirk has developed he’s been avoiding the support group. Why? Does he not want to hang out anymore? They all like him there!

You’re about to respond when a group of girls come up to you and Shinsou. You recognize these girls as the popular ones in your grade with cool quirks to match. Suddenly you’ve lost your appetite. You try to close your bento box and lay down but they speak first.

“Ew,” the ring leader starts, “why is your bento box a hero? You know that you don’t have a quirk right? It should be something lame and boring- like you!” They all laugh around you, pointing and calling you a quirkless loser. You try to drown out their laughter as you shrink in on yourself.

Shinsou stands up and puts himself in between you and the girls. He extends his arms out wide to block them from you. There’s a determined anger in his eyes that many have never seen. “Why don’t you just leave her alone?”

“Because it’s easy-“

The girl stops mid sentence and walks away. That’s when it dawns on them that he had accidentally used his quirk. The other two girls stare at him and start to yell out. “You’re not supposed to use your quirk in class you freak! Undo it! We’re gonna tell the teacher!”

Shinsou blinks quickly as he looks between you and your bullies. He can feel his throat getting clogged up but he removes the brainwashing through the threat of tears. When he sits down, you place a hand on his shoulder and softly ask, “are you okay?”

He shrugs you off and lays his head down. The girls had already called the teacher and soon Shinsou was escorted out of class.

You didn’t see him for a few days.

Age 13

You were lucky to have been in the same class as Shinsou throughout middle school. It was a relief to have someone you know as opposed to having to introduce yourself as the quirkless girl. It was so rare to not have a quirk that you only talked with Shinsou, and some boy online who also was born without one.

It was lonely, but you still did your best to be a normal middle school girl.

You got the trendiest clothes, kept up your grades, stayed out of drama, performed well in sports clubs and music clubs, and best of all you stayed friends with Shinsou Hitoshi. Although your growth was more positive, Shinsou had grown colder. He tried not to be seen around you, would keep to himself more as you began to flourish, and started getting bullied more and more. He tried to keep it from you, knowing you have your own struggles. You didn’t want to press it, and so you kept your emotions about the whole thing to a light simmer.

When different hero high schools began to come to the schools, tension began to rise. Sure, he had a couple of other friends, but the two of you had always maintained a special bond. After the recruit from UA left, most of the chatter was about what they’ll do with their quirks and what kind of hero they’ll become.

“I’m gonna apply to UA.”

Several heads in the classroom turned toward Shinsou, all of them with similar expressions. The first to speak was the “jock” of the class. He walks over to his desk and grabs a hold of the sides. The way Shinsou’s back tenses tugs at your heart as you start to struggle with what to do.

“You? Be a hero? Get real! You have a brainwashing quirk. Only villains do that, and UA doesn’t produce world class villains.” The class around him laughs as Shinsou stares at him blankly. Your jaw drops and you grab at the hem of your skirt. Hitoshi had mentioned the villain thing before but seeing it in person is more cruel than you can take. The rest of the class laughs and jostle him, saying he’s better off applying for a villain academy.

The taunting gets worse and you can’t take it anymore. You aggressively push up and out of your seat. You position yourself between the jock and Shinsou’s desk, arms stretched out wide. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at the bully. “Leave him alone,” you demand. “He’s done nothing to you. Any of you! Anyone can be a hero!”

Another boy comes up next to the jock and stares you down with a smirk. “Oh look, the quirkless loser is standing up for him. Let me guess, he brainwashed you into being his friend?”

“No,” you quickly reply, “but it seems like you’ve been brainwashed into thinking your outfit is decent.”

Your arms start to shake from exhaustion as they stay extended. Your classmates laugh at your insult and it seems the whole thing is forgotten. When they step away, you finally put your hands down and walk back to your desk. Normally, you would have spoken with him but he couldn’t see you cry. Shinsou looks over his shoulder in attempts to get your attention, but doesn’t succeed. As the teacher returns, you ask to be excused for the restroom where you cried into your arms there. Even after all this time, you’re still an outcast.

A few minutes pass and you finally leave the bathroom. As you walk outside, you’re greeted by your long time friend. You pat your eyes quickly and croak out, “Toshi! What are you doing here?”

He smiles gently at you and gives you a warm yet quick hug. “I’m here to walk you back to class. I was worried… and I wanted to thank you. For you know standing up to them.”

You nod and walk with him. Your heartbeat calms down as you walk close together side by side. You take a deep breath as the classroom door approaches.

“I think you’re going to be a great hero.”

[whenthegoldrays]

does it ever take you by surprise what a small world it is

[bunnywithablog]

Hi! I saw that requests were open, so I wonder... can I request an imagine or headcanons (whatever you're more comfortable doing) about Legosi falling for a carnivore s/o and struggling with that after being so sure to be attracted to herbivores only please??

my writing chops are a bit rusty so please excuse me if this feels a bit off 😭 i had lots of fun writing it though!! if anyone is interested in a part 2, please let me know! i think it's a cool concept to explore and would love to do more with this >:) thank's for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

requests | rules | masterlist

pairing: Beastars - legoshi x carnivore!gn!reader - feeling conflicted over falling for a carnivore hc’s

warnings: internalized ...species-phobia??, brief locker-room talk from bill, implied love triangle if you squint

- now this just threw him for an absolute loop

- i mean, sure legoshi has always been more than capable of recognizing when a carnivore would be considered conventionally attractive

- but to actually FEEL attracted to them himself???

- manages to convince himself that maybe he just really likes you,,,,as a fellow peer?

- why else would he feel so strongly towards you?

- it had to be some pack-mentality science! yeah, definitely! 🤔

- but it's hard to ignore the way his ears perk at the sound of your voice during class

- or the slight wag of his tail when he catches your scent in the hallways

- or how his heart seems to stop whenever you look in his direction,,,, 💗

- it's like you were sent into his life specifically to shake him up, it's so confusing!

- so his best solution to this? avoiding you entirely.

- outta sight outta mind 🫡

- sitting extremely far away from your spot in classes, changing which hallway routes he takes, getting to and leaving the cafeteria way before/after you

- it's a perfect plan, really!

- except you don't leave his mind

- no matter where he is or what he's doing, images and questions about you creep into his thoughts

- 'what do they like to do in their free time? they have a really pretty smile, i bet it attracts a lot of people... are they interested in dating right now? would they even be interested in a grey wolf, for that matter? how do they keep their fur looking so soft?'

- he even makes more time to hang around with haru to try reinforce his established attraction to just herbivores

- the only thing this really achieves is sending him into a spiral about how he's attracted to two different people now

- and when you get scouted into the drama club as one of the dancers, it's even harder to keep you out of his sight

- starts making slip-ups with angling the lighting correctly since his focus can't help but shift to you during rehearsals

- the others in the backstage crew actually start asking if he's alright because he never makes this many mistakes

- he thinks every movement you make is so graceful, controlled and confident,,,

- it's a testament to the way you own your strengths and effortlessly channel them into your skills; it makes it undeniably alluring to watch the way you move

- wait! no! it's normal for most carnivores to be good at the physical arts so it's not attraction, just admiration for how good you are!

- denial is a river in egypt,,,,

- this cycle goes on for quite some time until the first dress rehearsal

- "oh man, did you see how good [name] looks out there in their costume? what a hot bod, especially doing all those poses and bends during the dance routine! heh, what i'd do to get a piece of that... huh? hey, legoshi, what's got you all wound-up?"

- hearing bill talk about you like that and subsequently having to hold back from hurtling a mean punch his way, legoshi finally accepted that this was a feeling he had to address 💀

- despite the borderline obsessive pull toward you, he realizes he doesn't actually know you beyond being classmates and drama club members together

- eventually concludes the best course of action is to formally introduce himself and hopefully spend some time together

- figures it's also a good way to see if these feelings grow or fade the more he gets to know you, maybe it really is just some carnivore pack-mentality thing!

- best-case scenario is that he just really wanted to be friends with you so he can continue pursuing haru without worry, but only time will tell now...

enjoy what i write? consider helping with my transition! 💕

[puckinghischier]

Bouy

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader gets dragged to the bar by jack to meet all of his teammates, but finds herself drawn to a certain swiss captain

notes: part 2 to locksmith!! probably some inaccuracies about various player’s personalities, but all in the name of entertainment, right? i didn’t proofread either, oops. don’t know if i’m happy with how this turned out but here it is nonetheless. hope you enjoy!! 🫶🏼

part 1, part 3, part 4

[4.6k]

~

The bar that Jack picked is surprisingly busy for a week night. It’s not overcrowded, but it’s busy enough to where you’re having to hold on to the back of his shirt so you don’t lose him. He leads the two of you over to a set of tables tucked away at the back of the bar. Jack is greeted with shouts and hugs as you drop your grip on him and simply stand back, letting him have his moment. You recognize a few of the faces, no names coming to mind, but most of the faces you’ve never seen before. You should know the names and faces of who you’re assuming are Jack’s teammates, but the truth is, despite your relationship with the Hughes family, you’ve never been one to follow hockey very closely. You don’t come from an area where hockey is a big deal, and though you understand the logistics of the game and you’ve traveled to watch all three brothers in some of their biggest games pre-NHL, your knowledge of the league’s players pretty much begins and ends with Jack, Luke, and Quinn.

“Long time no see, hallway sleeper,” you’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice in your ear. You turn to see Nico, no hat this time, soft, brown hair on full display. He was still wearing a white t-shirt, only his sweats have been swapped for jeans this time.

“Long time no see, locksmith.”

Nico laughs, and for the second time today you allow yourself to think about how lovely the sound is. “You know, all in a day’s work.”

“Sounds like someone really should have a conversation with the big heads at the NHL. Their poor players work so hard, only to have to pick up second jobs on their off days in order to pay the bills. Shame on them,” you joke.

“I know! Maybe it’s time I go on strike, put my full attention to helping pretty girls break into their apartments full time,” he responds, a small blush forming on your cheeks.

“Well I don’t know about all that, I need my own personal locksmith on call at all times. You can’t abandon me in my time of need!”

“Wouldn’t ever dream of it,” Nico places his hand over his chest, feigning offense. You glance over his shoulder, eyeing the bar, thinking about the vodka cranberry that’s calling your name. He turns and follows your eyes. “Did you want to go get something to drink-“

“Neeks!! What’s up man! We missed you today!” Jack cuts Nico off as he turns around, sticking a hand out in-between himself and his captain. “The kids were asking where you were, you totally have to come with us next time!”

“Yeah, man. Next time, for sure. Just needed a rest day, y’know?” Nico responds, slapping Jack’s outstretched hand.

The two begin their own conversation about the charity skate while you stand in the background. You know Jack isn’t ignoring you on purpose, but you’re getting a little tired of just standing around, deciding that you need that drink sooner than later to loosen yourself up a bit and prepare yourself for the endless stream of socializing you know is about to come your way.

“Hey, J, I’m gonna get a drink, okay? I’ll be right back,” you interrupt the conversation, knowing Jack would be worried if he looked up and you were nowhere to be found.

“Oh shit, Y/N I’m so sorry, I totally forgot to introduce you to everyone. Neeks, this is Y/N, Y/N, Nico.”

“Yeah, we met earlier. When you decided to lock the door on your way out this morning and Nico seems to be the only person with a spare key to the place,” you deadpan, watching a confused look glaze over Jack’s features.

“I left the door unlocked, I swear! I even double checked as I was leaving, because Lu-“ Jack suddenly pauses. “Luke must have locked it when he went to grab his beanie he forgot. I’m so sorry, Bouy,” Jack apologizes, letting the nickname he gave you when you were kids slip out of his mouth.

“Bouy?” you hear Nico’s confusion, looking between the two of you, clearly confused.

“We’re not even going there right now, just a stupid nickname from one summer as a kid, not even important. What is important is that I get a drink, ASAP,” you say, once again trying to make your way to the bar.

You walk away from the two men, sights set on an empty spot near the end of the bar. Admittedly, getting a drink seemed way easier in theory than in execution, because no matter how hard you tried, you cannot get the attention of the bartender. You’ve tried waving, yelling, and following her as she makes her way down the line of patrons, but to no avail. You give up with a huff, turning around and leaning your back against the bar, trying to brainstorm how to get a drink in your hand sooner rather than later. “What if I just go take someone’s drink, what would they do then?” you speak aloud to no one other than yourself.

“I would advise against that. Who knows what concoctions some of these people are drinking.”

You whip your head around to find no other than Nico himself standing to your left. You begin to think him sneaking up on people is a habit of his, seeing as this is the second time he’s both surprised you and caught you talking to yourself today.

“You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me, Jesus.”

“Sorry. You just seemed so lost in that head of yours. I’d ask you what you’re thinking, but I’ve learned if I stand here long enough you’ll just say it out loud,” Nico jabs, amusement once again present in his brown eyes. It seems that’s a common occurrence whenever you’re in his presence.

“If you think I speak my mind now, just wait until I actually get a few drinks in me. You’ll be begging me to shut up,” you joke, turning slightly to see if the bartender is anywhere near your area.

“How about we test the theory. Need help?” he asks, challenging your words.

“I mean, be my guest, but I’ve been trying for what seems like forever,” you grumble, moving over slightly to make room for him at the bar.

You watch him stick his hand out, the bartender almost immediately looking over and nodding, signaling she’ll be right over. Your jaw drops. You were a little pissed, honestly. How in the hell did he just do that? You turn your head to look at him, eyes narrowed.

“How in the hell did you just do that?” your mouth mirrors your thoughts.

“Oh y’know, I have my ways,” he says, eyes twinkling, smirk on his lips.

“No, I demand to know. There’s no way I’ve been standing up here for the better part of fifteen minutes with not even a glance in my direction, yet all you have to do is stick your hand out two inches from your face and suddenly you’re next in line,” you spit out, your tone showing your frustration at the situation.

Nico opens his mouth to respond, but a voice from the other side of the bar sounds before he can get a word out.

“Hey, Neeks, what can I get for ya? Your usual?” the woman serving drinks asks, using the same nickname Jack calls Nico.

“Nah, just a Michelob for me tonight. Got morning skate tomorrow,” he tells her, seeming familiar with the woman. She turns to you, giving you the opportunity to really look at the girl. She was short, but not shorter than yourself. She had platinum blonde hair that was tied back into a high ponytail, a pen stuck right through the middle of it. She was wearing a bright green cropped tank top with black leggings. Her make-up was the perfect combination of natural, yet bold. She was….really fucking pretty. Like, intimidatingly pretty. The kind of girl that would make even the most confident of women feel slightly insecure, to no fault of her own.

“Is that all or…?” she trailed off, looking at you expectantly.

“Can I just get a vodka cranberry? Double?” you asked, suddenly regretting your decision to not even wear make-up tonight.

You hear her scoff through a “Of course, coming right up,” before looking at Nico once again, then hurrying off to grab Nico’s beer and your cocktail.

“Is there something wrong with a vodka cran up here? Why the attitude?” you spit out, annoyed that she clearly found an issue with your choice of drink.

“You just have to ignore Jess, she’s a bit of an alcohol snob. Thinks everyone should drink top shelf or not even bother drinking at all,” Nico gives you the girl’s name.

You were going to respond to the fact that the two are on a first name basis, but your drinks arrived before you had the chance. You looked up to thank the girl, Jess as you now know, but shut your mouth when you saw the exchange happening before you.

“Just add it to my tab, Jess. Both of them,” Nico tells her, grabbing the bottle of Michelob sitting in front of him.

“Sure thing, Neeks. If you need anything else just give me a shout. You know where to find me,” Jess lets her hand linger, briefly brushing against Nico’s. You look up to her face, seeing the sultry look in her eyes, her chin slightly dropped. She’s looking at Nico like he’s a meal and she hasn’t eaten in days. Glancing over at the man standing next to you, you notice his entire face is flushed red, up to the tips of his ears.

Your brows shoot up in both surprise and understanding. These two have slept together! Her actions a dead giveaway, albeit subtle. Girls recognize girls, you know? It surely explains why he was so quick to get her attention when you couldn’t even get so much as a glance. You’re fighting against every single muscle in your face to not break out into laughter, finding this amusing for some reason.

“Yeah, gotcha. Thanks, Jess,” Nico replies to the girl, stepping back a few inches from the bar.

You turn and follow him in the direction of the tables from earlier, trying your hardest to not get lost in the crowd of bodies you’re having to weave through.

“So, you didn’t tell me that all I had to do to get the bartender’s attention was sleep with her,” you said, stopping Nico in his tracks.

He turns to look at you, eyes wide and face red, seeming a little embarrassed. You worry you’ve already stuck your foot in your mouth much too early into the night.

“How did you- What makes you think-“ he fumbles over his words.

“I’m a girl, silly. I know when another girl is giving a man the ‘you gave me one of the best nights of my life and I want to do you again’ eyes. Nothing to be ashamed of, she’s gorgeous,” you interrupt, amused at his embarrassment.

You actually think its kind of sweet he seems embarrassed. You half expected him to meet your comments with a smirk and puff his chest out a bit, proud that he’d scored such a beautiful woman, but he’s not. You’ve met plenty of Jack’s previous teammates over the years, most of them cocky assholes that care about nothing more than who they can sleep with next. Never missing the chance to boast to all of his buddies about the blonde chick he managed to sneak into his room last night.

Nico’s response was the complete opposite of that. He almost recoiled at your words, looking like he wanted to crawl under the nearest table he could find and hide there until the end of the night. It’s a refreshing contrast to what you’re used to. You start to feel a little bad for even bringing it up.

Nico stands still, staring at you like he’d rather be anywhere else at the moment, beer forgotten in his hand. You can see the wheels turning in his head on how he’s going to get out of this situation. “Hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business. I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just used to Jack’s other friends that never shut up about who they sleep with. My filter has a few holes in it I need to patch up I guess. I haven’t even had a drink and I’m already sticking my foot in my mouth-“

“I haven’t slept with her.”

Your mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. You stare at the man in front of you, noticing how he keeps fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable. He keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot, switching his beer from left to right to run whichever hand is free through his hair. His eyes keep darting anywhere but your face, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

“Well if you haven’t then she sure wants to,” you try to backtrack a bit, hoping you can humor your way out of the mess you walked yourself into.

“Yeah, I’m sure she does. Just like she wants to sleep with the rest of the team,” he scoffs out. “Don’t get me wrong, Jess is nice and all, but she hits on all of us. It’s worked on a few of the guys. I’ve seen her drop a few of them off at practice in the mornings, but she never lets it go farther than that. Some of the guys prefer…arrangements like that, but it’s not really my style,” Nico replies, shocking you with his sudden honesty.

“I find it hard to believe that beautiful blondes aren’t your type, but I’ll let it slide for now,” you narrow your eyes, not sure how else to respond to his unexpected candor.

“It seems that my type is talkative strangers, but I’ll let you know if it changes,” Nico tells you with a smirk, his shift in personality giving you whiplash as he walks off without another word.

———————————————————————————

“So, where exactly are you from, Y/N?” you get asked for the fourth time in about 5 minutes from the man sitting to your right. You can’t exactly remember his name, only that he’s drank about 4 beers in the time you’ve been sitting here. Considering Jack went down the line and literally rapid fired names at you once you returned to the tables, you forgive yourself for not remembering.

“Dawson, she already told you three times, dude. She’s from Tennessee!” the man to your left shouts across you a little too loudly. You flinch a bit at just how loud these guys can be, having been shuffled around from conversation to conversation for the past hour, each man reaching a volume you didn’t know was humanly possible.

Jack will come by whatever table you’re currently at about every 30 minutes and tug you in whatever direction he sees fit, going on and on about how you just HAVE to meet so and so because they’ll love you. You love that he’s trying to include you and integrate you into the group dynamic the team has going on, but you really wish he would just let you mingle on your own.

His teammates have been nothing but welcoming and kind, but most of them are more than a few drinks deep and have been talking about whatever upcoming game they have and what strategies they need to improve on, leaving you left out and unable to add anything to the conversation.

“Virginia, actually. But close! I lived right on the border of Tennessee and Virginia, so it’s almost like I’m from both,” you shout back, explaining your origin…again.

“Wait, Virginia and Tennessee border each other?” Mr. four beers questions, Dawson you’ve just learned.

“Mercer you idiot, of course they border each other. Have you ever even looked at a fucking map?” the man to your left responds, reaching behind you and slapping Dawson on the back of the head.

“Ow! I’m from Canada, Johnny! How am I supposed to know? Do you know what Canadian states border one another?” Dawson fires back at the man to your left, Johnny.

“Provinces.”

“What?”

“Canada has provinces, not states, Dawson,” Johnny says, a blank look on his face as he stares at Dawson.

“Fuck you. And your Harvard degree,” Dawson crosses his arms and puffs up like a kid. It’s amusing really, watching the two bicker like siblings.

As the two continue to go back and forth, you can’t help but let your eyes wander around the bar, searching for a pair of brown ones. You haven’t spoken to Nico since he walked away from you earlier, after he all but told you that you were his type. His words took you by surprise, having only known the man for a few hours. You can’t lie and say you didn’t find him attractive from the moment you saw him standing in his doorway this morning, but you can’t let yourself go there, can you? You’ve been in the city less than twenty-four hours. You haven’t even fully unpacked all of your clothes yet, and here you are, unable to get your best friend’s captain off of your mind.

Just as you try to shake the thoughts running through your head, a pair of eyes find yours, causing you to sit up a little straighter. He’s standing at a table with Jack and a man that you remember to be named Timo. He’s Swiss, too, you learned when Jack introduced the two of you. He told you that he and Nico played together before they both found themselves with the Devils, the pair having hockey history.

Nico glances away, only briefly, before finding your eyes again, noticing the two men arguing on either side of you. He raises his eyebrow, as if asking you if you need help, but you just shrug and give a little half smile, rolling your eyes as if to say ‘boys, right?’. He lets out a chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly. You see him exchange a few words with Jack and Timo before stepping away from the table, walking in the direction of the table you’re sitting at.

Just as Nico is only a few steps away, you feel your phone buzzing from where its laying on your thigh. You look at the screen, your mother’s name flashing across the screen. Realizing you hadn’t called her since your plane landed earlier in the day, you decide you should probably take the call.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta take this call,” you slide out from in-between the two hockey players, still arguing away. They don’t even notice your departure, too lost in discussing geography.

You look over to see Nico stop in his tracks, a confused look on his face. You hold up your phone and point to the screen, mouthing the word ‘mom’ before walking over to a secluded corner of the bar for some quiet.

“Hey, mom. Sorry I forgot to call earlier. It’s been a long day,” you sigh, leaning against the cool brick wall.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. I just wanted to see how you were settling in. See how the boys were,” she pauses. “Where are you? What’s all that noise in the background?” she questions, slight concern in her voice.

“You know Jack, he wanted to come out and ‘celebrate’ the fact that I live in Jersey now. Tried to get out of it, but Jack never misses a chance to go out. Still have a ton of unpacking to do. I hope to have it all done before too long, though.”

“I should’ve known Jack would be ready to party as soon as you got there. You were always his favorite tag along,” she chuckles, referencing all the time Jack would drag you to various outings and events during the summer.

“Yeah, well this tag along is ready to make her way to her bed for the night, but I have to drive Jack home, so I’ll probably still be here awhile.”

“Honey just tell him you’re ready to go home. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Nah, I can wait it out a little bit longer. He’s too busy introducing me to everyone. He was so excited for me to meet his teammates,” you quickly glance towards where Jack stands. “You’d think I was some local celebrity or something the way he’s been shuffling me from table to table for meet and greets,” you laugh into the phone.

“He’s just happy to have you around again, sweetheart. I know how much you missed him, I’m sure he missed you just as much. He’s just trying to make sure you’re included.”

“I know, I know. It’s sweet, really, I just wish he would’ve let me have a few days before throwing me into a group of drunk hockey players, as usual,” you tell your mom, trying not to sound ungrateful. You do appreciate how eager Jack is to have all his friends meet you, but you’re growing sleepier by the minute.

“Welcome to life with Rowdy…again,” your mom laughs, using Jack’s childhood nickname.

“At least it’s sure to be an interesting one,” you reply, causing her laugh to grow. “Alright, momma, I better go before Jack comes looking for me. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I love you,” you say, looking over towards Jack’s table, watching him look around, likely noticing your absence.

“Alright, honey. I love you!” she says, hanging up the phone.

You lean your head back against the wall, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before returning to the chaos of bodies across the room.

“Did Dawson and Johnny really make that bad of a first impression that you’re hiding in a dark corner?”

Yet again, you jump at the voice that seems to be following you around today. You raise your head up and open your eyes, Nico standing a few feet away from you. You simply close your eyes once again and lay your head back against the wall once more, needing another minute to collect yourself.

“You know, I think I’m going to buy you some of those shoes with squeakers in them, that way I can always know when you’re coming,” you tell him, enjoying the feeling of the cool concrete against your head.

All you hear in response is a laugh, which has you raising your head to look at Nico again. You admire the way he scrunches his nose when he laughs, already thinking about how you can coax the sound out of him again.

“Where’s the fun in that now…Bouy, was it?” he recalls your nickname from earlier, earning a glare from you.

“Don’t you even start,” you warn.

“You’re really not going to tell me why Jack called you that? I’ve been trying to get the story out of him for the past two hours. He won’t budge, saying only you can tell it.”

“Trust me, it’s not even worth your time. I don’t even understand why the nickname stuck. They’re all stupid, the lot of them,” you shut down the request.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pry it out of you one day. I’ll solve the Bouy mystery eventually,” Nico persists, not letting the subject drop that easily.

You remove yourself from the wall, sliding your phone into your back pocket. You run your hand through your hair with a huff, preparing yourself to join the others once again.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My mom called, so I figured I’d better take it. A little tired, but I’m all good. Just hope Jack tires out sooner rather than later,” you shrug your shoulders.

“I can give him a ride home if you want to leave? I don’t mind, really. Not like it’s exactly out of the way,” Nico offers.

“No, I should stay. He was really excited for me to meet everyone tonight so I feel like I should at least stay a little bit longer. I don’t want to bail on him this soon.”

“Trust me, if it was up to Jack he wouldn’t leave until they kicked him out,” Nico states, nothing but seriousness in his tone.

“Well, we don’t call him Rowdy for nothing,” you joke. “Speaking of, we’ve been spotted,” you notice Jack making his way over to where the two of you stand.

“Hey, everything alright? I couldn’t find you and Timo said he saw you come over here awhile ago, then said he saw Nico come over here too. You okay?” Jack says as he approaches, glancing towards Nico before looking at you, concern in his tone and on his face.

“No, yeah, I’m fine. Mom called and I came over here so I could hear her better, then Nico came to check on me. We were about to come join everyone again, I was just enjoying the quiet for another minute,” you tell Jack, watching the worry fall from his face.

“Oh tell momma Y/L/N that her favorite surrogate son misses her,” Jack brightens at the mention of your mom, both of you viewing the other’s parents as a second set, just as close to them as you were your own.

“I will when she calls tomorrow,” you chuckle, knowing your mom will get a kick out of this conversation.

“I actually came over here to see if you were ready to go? We have morning skate tomorrow and Luke just texted me asking when we were coming home, which usually means he’s lonely and feeling left out, so we should probably get going,” Jack says, surprising you by granting your earlier wishes.

“Oh my god yes, please. I’m so tired,” you sigh, letting your shoulders slump, relieved that you’re only a few minutes away from climbing in your bed.

“I thought so, you looked like you were having a grand time with Dawson and Johnny,” Jack laughs, recalling your earlier position between the two geography enthusiasts.

“They were literally yelling at each other about the geography of the U.S. and Canada,” you told the two men standing with you, both of them breaking out into laughter.

“That’s nothing. Once they argued for a full two hours on if pterodactyl was spelled with a p or not,” Nico adds in, having been silent until now, causing you to be the one filled with laughter.

Jack looks over, seeming to just now remember Nico was also standing with the two of you.

“You need a ride home, cap?” Jack offers, looking over at you with suspicious eyes before looking back at Nico.

“Nah, I’ve only had two beers. I’m good to drive. Plus, I should probably make sure Dawson gets home and in bed. He’s going to regret all those tequila shots when we have to be on the ice at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Exactly why I’m tapping out now. Be careful, Neeks. See you at practice,” Jack tells his captain before turning to you. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

“Like it’s a hot summer day.”

Jack smiles, the phrase becoming a trademark of yours over the years. You don’t even remember what started it, just that it’s become the signature end to many nights of fun for the two of you. He turns to walk away and you go to follow him before you realized you didn’t say goodbye to Nico. Not wanting to feel rude, you turn around to say your goodbyes to the captain.

“Goodnight, Nico. Have a good practice tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Goodnight, Bouy,” he responds, a shit-eating grin breaking out on his face.

Fuck you, Jack Hughes.

[sunshinescribes]

The House Always Wins

Part 2 of this fic

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, (lowkey) Sugar Daddy Crocodile, Crocodile is smug and petty

(edit: realized the original artwork was fanart and I couldn't find the artist's @ to credit them, so I changed it)

Crocodile doesn’t know what to expect when he wanders onto the casino floor of Rain Dinners in search of you. Slot machines chime, playing a catchy little tune with each pull of the lever. Dealers grin and offer words of encouragement, coaxing big-eyed fools into another game with the sweet promise of lady luck’s favor.  

You don’t usually partake in gambling, not keen on the idea of betting away your berries when you know it’s all rigged—and why would you even need to? You never ask for anything, but Crocodile provides. Spoils you even.

He enjoys watching the way your eyes get all big, stunned by the diamond necklace he places around your neck, or the soft gasp that passes your lips when he gifts silk charmeuse and chiffon dresses, designed, and tailored just for you.

Crocodile continues to seek you out, his sharp eyes flitting between the slot machines and card tables. He ignores the curious and lingering looks targeted at him—the smartly dressed patrons who vie for his attention as he continues to search—and then he hears it.

Your laugh, loud and beautiful—music to his fucking ears. He turns.

Crocodile doesn’t expect to see you at the bar, perched on a stool, leaning into a man he doesn’t recognize. Your hand is on his slender arm, your lips pulled into a pretty smile, and laughter escapes again—so lovely and genuine and for someone else.

The man grins at you sheepishly, transfixed on your mouth. It’s so blatant—barely contained, the way he’s staring at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

You must feel Crocodile’s eyes on you because you glance over your shoulder suddenly. Your smile widens, and you exchange a quick word with the mysterious man before hopping down from your seat.

Crocodile is silent as you approach, stone-faced. You grab his arm with both hands and tilt your head towards the man, all while smiling up at him.

“I want you to meet my friend,” you say excitedly, steering him towards the bar.

Crocodile doesn’t catch the name that rolls off your tongue—he can’t seem to hear anything over the sudden ringing in his ears, so sharp it drowns out the sounds of the jingling slot machines and triumphant cheers of those foolish enough to think they’re the winners.

The fond smile that plays on the mystery man’s lip never falls, but Crocodile notices the sudden unease as the man’s eyes land on him. The imposing height, the cold, almost irritated expression he comfortably wears—the golden hook that glints under the blinding casino lights. It’s enough to strike fear in the heart of anyone smart enough to value their life.

And the man is a small thing—average in every sense of the word, Crocodile thinks. The plain clothes, the nervous, uncertain words that stumble from his mouth as he tries to introduce himself. Crocodile doesn’t feign interest—he barely even acknowledges your friend, and that only serves to add to his anxiety.

If it wasn’t for the pitiful look you shoot him, Crocodile would laugh at just how pathetic this man is.

“We both grew up in Coombe,” you explain, glancing back at the mystery man. “I never thought you’d leave the North Blue.”

He must take your surprise as a compliment because he gives you another bashful smile.

“I didn’t either. Guess I finally figured if you could do it, so could I,” he chuckles softly. “Imagine my shock when I saw you here, of all places.”

“Small world,” Crocodile chimes in dryly, drawing your friend’s attention once more.

Crocodile places a hand on your hip, drawing you a little closer to him.“She never mentions much about her home in the North Blue.”

And she never mentioned you. The insult is unspoken, so subtle that he thinks even you don’t catch it.

But it’s also true. You rarely spoke about the North Blue—of the life you had before you entered the Grand Line and ended up in Alabasta. You never mused over an island you once called home, or a lovesick, hairbrained boy you left on it, and Crocodile doesn’t pry. He isn’t particularly interested in knowing, truth be told. He only cares about the life you have now, with him.

The man goes on an excited tirade about how beautiful Coombe is this time of year, about how you used to love the new bloom after winter finally passed, and all the fun you both had in your youth. He can’t help but reminisce, tries to connect with you in the only way he’s able.

“You should visit when you can. Uh—you both should.”

You pretend to consider it, and Crocodile gives little more than an unaffected grunt.

You inquire how long he’ll be staying and recommend shops and restaurants he must visit before leaving. He shamelessly seeks more of your company—your attention—and asks if you could possibly give him a tour.

You promise to check your schedule and follow up, and he beams as if he’s won an invaluable prize. Crocodile’s irritation grows—twists and festers the longer he stands by your side, little more than an onlooker. His frustration isn’t directed at you—you’ve always been friendly, offering a smile where he would surely offer a sneer, but it doesn’t stop his grip from tightening on your hip.

You notice, finally excusing yourself. The man gives you both a soft goodbye, one that Crocodile ignores completely as he whisks you away, and he can’t help the way his lips pull into a smug grin at the quick glimpse of the dejected look on his face. It must hurt him to see you walk away in the arms of another—to know the golden opportunity he thought the world had provided him never existed at all.

“You didn’t like him.”

It’s the first thing you say when you enter Crocodile’s private suite, disappointment dripping in your voice. You weren’t foolish enough to think he would be thrilled, but you thought Crocodile would at least be amicable. 

He shrugs his coat off, placing it on the coat hanger near the door. “He was shameless.”

Your brows furrow, your lips pull into a slight frown…You don’t know? It takes Crocodile by surprise; surely you must. The man is far too obvious; his intentions are impossible to mask.

“He would have taken you right there on the bar if you had let him,” Crocodile scoffs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“Gage?”

So that’s his name.

Your voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, taken aback by the sudden accusation. “He doesn’t want to fuck me.”

Crocodile gives a mirthless laugh. You’re so sweet. So naïve. Always offering others the benefit of the doubt.

Crocodile recognized the hunger in his eyes—the longing. He suspects this friend of yours has harped on you for a long time, never quite brave enough to take the chance.

Not even now. By some miracle, he survived the Grand Line, and he still can’t brave his own futile emotions. Crocodile isn’t sure whether to laugh at how spineless the man is or burn with anger at how he even thinks he has any chance of having you.

The dark, ravenous part of him takes high offense.  

Crocodile comes up behind you and dwarfs you with his body as his decorated hand cradles your jaw. “Course he does. Look at you.”

He tilts your head, forces you to face the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. You try to focus on your own reflection, but you can’t help but watch Crocodile when he dips down, pressing a tender kiss to your neck, all while his half-lidded eyes hold your gaze.

“Maybe I should invite him to our room so he can watch me fuck you,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver, nearly stumble out of his grasp as his lips trail higher.

“Don’t be cruel...”

Cruel? His offer would be courteous. It would be the closest your lovestruck friend would ever get to your naked form. The only way he would ever know what you sound and look like at the height of your pleasure—how perfect you are, stuffed and babbling through your orgasm.

The cruel thing would be what he truly wants to do—to use his devil fruit powers to turn the man into a withering corpse, forgotten in the endless sand dunes.

“Would you rather he joined?” Crocodile inquiries plainly.

He attempts to come off unaffected…curious, but the wicked voice in the back of his mind nags at him, hisses about feelings that could have been, and still may be.

The man matches your gentle nature, and is somewhat competent, at least to have made it this far from the North Blue. He’s the kind of man who would kneel at your feet if you asked, worship you as if it were his sole purpose—he’d give you a typical life, picturesque in its simplicity, and you would be content.

The thought makes something vicious twist in his gut. It makes time stand still as Crocodile awaits your answer.

“No.” You shake your head softly, meeting his cold eyes in the mirror. “I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

Of course not. What would you want with a sniveling worm? How could you go back to mediocrity after everything that’s been offered to you? The attention of a warlord of the sea—the savior of Alabasta. How could anyone else ever compare?

It’s pathetic how the gluttonous beast inside of Crocodile settles and hums contentedly, knowing that you only want him.

And maybe this is your power he couldn’t recognize before, why he was so unnerved in the beginning—this ability to effortlessly turn sensible men foolish. Even him.

“Only want you.” You turn, your soft eyes trained on him. “Always want you.”

Crocodile captures your lips as the words escape, and you melt into him—mold your body into his until he is all you sense. The heady scent of his sweet cigars mixes with hints of patchouli and cedar—his cologne—it lingers on his fitted clothes, drawing you deeper into his searing kiss.

You feel the bend of his golden hook press into the curve of your back, forcing you to curl into him as he parts your lips with his tongue. You’re caught in a pleasant haze, lightheaded, while Crocodile kisses you like he’s claiming your mouth, making sure that your lips never forget the feel and taste of him—that they never desire another’s.

Crocodile lifts you from the ground effortlessly with his ringed hand, still kissing you hungrily as he shifts blindly through his suite, knowing the layout well enough to stumble into his lavish bedroom. He parts from you with a low groan.

“Lay down,” he orders against your lips, and you comply, sinking into the soft mattress while he looms over you.

The ache you feel in your core blossoms—hurts so good from how desperately you want him—to be wrecked and teary-eyed and a mess for him.

You even go as far as to whine when you notice Crocodile isn’t working to free the fierce erection that strains his dress pants, eager to be lost in your warmth.

“None of that,” Crocodile tuts coyly, lowering to his knees near the foot of the bed. His large hand skims up the length of your thigh, pushing up your dress until it is bunched around your waist, and he can see the evidence of your arousal staining your thin lingerie—another gift.

That creature inside of him purrs gleefully, proud of how well he turns you into a spectacle—a gift of his own to admire and unravel again and again.

Crocodile tugs your panties down your legs, tossing it aside carelessly as his hooded eyes catch on your bare pussy, already slick and ready for him. A deep, guttural noise catches in his throat as you part your legs—eagerly welcome him where he belongs.

“I bet he wonders what you taste like…” Crocodile muses, leaning into your aching slit. A soft gasp passes your lips when you feel the heat of his mouth on your needy cunt, tending to the ache his salacious words and desperate kisses created.

There are rare moments when Crocodile takes you apart slowly, his movements languid and measured, bringing you to the height of your pleasure at an agonizing pace, only to rip it away just when you begin to tip over the edge. And then he continues the process again and again. He leaves you delirious on days like that, wasting the hours away with your body—and perhaps today would be a day such as that if he didn’t feel he had something to prove.

If the desire to plague your every thought didn’t control him like a cruel master.

Your soft whimpers turn to shameless, needy moans, light and airy but loud enough to satisfy the wicked parts of him.

“S’good,” you whine drunkenly, your hips bucking instinctively when Crocodile’s lips latch onto your neglected clit. Your fingers thread into his long hair, pull him even closer, and he groans—it makes you arch painfully as the feel of it cascades through your body and tickles your aching nub.

Each swipe of his talented tongue pushes you closer, making the heat that pools in your stomach metastasize until you’re chanting his name, so close and ready to reward him.

He squeezes your clit with his mouth, sucks your aching bud, and you’re gone—shoved over the edge as pure hot pleasure rips through you, flows from between your legs, and Crocodile laps up your sweetness like a starved man.

You glance down at him through your lashes, eyes heavy, body slowly recovering. Crocodile pulls away from your pretty pussy with a sigh, as if he’s sad to part, and the idea alone makes your core ache with newfound need.

“Always so sweet for me.”

Your release smears his chin. It makes him look depraved and delicious. If you had the energy for it, you’d lift from your spot on the bed and kiss him. Feel the taste of yourself on his tongue, but all you can do is watch him with tired eyes as he rids himself of his clothes, tosses his lavish vest and dress shirt aside haphazardly.

His pants are the last thing to go, and you watched as if caught in a spell, buzzing with anticipation as he palms his hard dick. It’s so pretty, with the tip blushing and spilling precum that glides onto his thick fingers. Crocodile smirks, amused by the enchanted look in your eyes.

“This what you want, darling?” he asks, giving his dick a rough tug that warrants a delighted hiss. You nod—nearly sob—as you continue to watch Crocodile’s hand rub up and down the length of his lovely cock. You feel so empty—the desire to be filled in a way only he’s capable of taking precedence in your mind.

“Tell me,” Crocodile encourages as he shifts to the bed, his large frame casting you in shadows as he hovers over you. That smug smile still plays at his lips and only grows crueler as he grinds his hard length against your needy cunt.

“N-need you. Fuck—need you so—so bad. Baby please—”

The request sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, but it must be exactly what Crocodile wants to hear because he sinks into you the second the term of endearment passes your lips.

A deep grunt rips from his throat and tickles your ear pleasantly as Crocodile drags his fat cock deeper into you. You’re so warm and wet and snug, your velvety walls hugging him like this is where he belongs—where he should always be.

And he’ll admit, there’s no better place than here, between your legs. No better feeling in the whole fucking world—not even the sweet giddiness that builds inside of him each passing day as the fall of the Alabasta Kingdom draws closer. Having you writhing beneath him, breathless and lovely, is incomparable—a sensation he never tires of.

“Always take me so—mmm…well,” Crocodile rasps, transfixed on how your sloppy cunt swallows him over and over and over again. It makes him fuck you harder; drive even deeper. “This pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

And he thinks perhaps it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said to you. Uncertainty still stirs within him—dread lingers in the corner of his mind, silent and waiting, because you complicate everything. You’re the only person who can placate the ravenous creature within him, feeding its insatiable appetite without it ever growing incurious. It wants everything you have to offer—can’t conceive of feeding from anyone who isn’t you. Not anymore.

Never.

Crocodile pushes your thighs close to your chest, drives his dick even deeper as he continues to pound into you. The sound of his powerful thrusts and your tortured moans is a beautiful symphony, lovelier than the melodic sounds of the stirring sand at dawn.

You have that lost, blissed-out look in your eyes as you blink up at him, words completely evading you as he uses you.

How could your foolish friend ever even dream of having you like this? Think he could possibly do to you what Crocodile has done?

Crocodile feels equally as hopeless as you—is incapable of thinking clearly because a confession he knows he should swallow pours from his lips without warning.

“I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he growls, digging the tip of his hook into the mattress, inches away from your head.

You should be…shocked. Unnerved by such a confession. Crocodile doesn’t pretend to be a saint, but he never mutters his murderous intent. He hides behind practiced indifference; let’s others paint a glorious picture of him, never revealing his true nature. You attempt to feign shock for a split second, but you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and goes mad at his declaration—some depraved, feral part of you stirring to life.

And the knowledge that a part of you likes this fucked up part of him must awaken something in him, because his thrusts grow brutal, his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you into the mattress like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to. Crocodile hits deeper, the head of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongey spot inside of you, and you’re gone before you can even warn him.

You choke out something that sounds like it could be his name, tears trickling down your cheeks as you come so violently that your breath stutters. You shake through your orgasm, squirm beneath Crocodile while he fucks you through it—watching you come apart with wicked fascination and unbridled lust.

He loves how he wrecks you—how you hold onto him for dear life, as if he might slip away.

He’s ruined you, just like you’ve ruined him.

The thought alone is the final push he needs, make his dick throb violently as he explodes inside of you and fills you up the way he knows you crave—the way your perfect pussy deserves. The squelch of his seed mixing with your sweetness is enough to drive him mad. Makes him want to fuck another load into you.

Maybe in a bit, he considers as he rocks his hips sluggishly, riding out the sweet aftershock of his powerful orgasm.

You’re little more than a quivering mess under him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing is ragged…so so beautiful, and Crocodile doesn’t frighten at the tender feeling that blossoms in his chest—a sudden warmth that takes him by surprise yet seems to make all the sense in the world as he stares down at you, all while a pleasant thought crosses his twisted mind.

What’s the harm?

Why shouldn’t I revel in what’s mine?

divider credit @/cafekitsune

[sp1rit-realm]

༻¨*:· 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ·:*¨༺

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 remus is used to the same day, and then you come into his life.

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 please give me some grace. i havent written a full on fic in... a hot second 𖦹 record shop owner!remus x fem!reader (she/her prns) 𖦹 sirius uses he/they prns 𖦹 also. reader moves to england so she doesnt have british accent. yeah. 𖦹 lily evans being the best 𖦹 FLUFF (everyone cheered!) 𖦹 [brief] ANGST (everyone cried!) 𖦹 not proofread

༻¨*:· words ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 2.7k

Routine—a very familiar word to Remus. His days were the same. Wake up, go to work, go home, shower, then sleep. He ate the same thing for breakfast and the same thing for lunch. Dinner was the only thing he frequently changed—maybe one day, he would have pasta, and the next, he would have chicken. He hung out with friends on Saturday, and they went to the same pub every time. The topics were usually the same. Sirius met someone new, someone they claimed to be "The One," only for that person to leave their life. James usually talked about training, Lily, and updates on her pregnancy. Since school ended, things had become... predictable.

You walked into the rickety old record shop, intent on finding your favorite album. It broke on the move to the UK, and you needed it desperately. 

Upon hearing the bell ring, Remus looked up. It was part of his routine—to see who had entered his shop—and there you stood, tote bag in hand with messy, windblown hair.

After searching through the Rock section for ages, you practically squeal when you see the album.

Remus looks up as you walk to the counter, "Hi." 

"Hi," You smile. Your accent throws Remus off, and he smiles. 

He looks at the record, then puts it down, "We have this in a white vinyl," He says, "I— I didn't mark it as colored, so you probably didn't see it. I can go grab it for you?"

You eagerly nod, "That would be fantastic!"

He stands, and you realize how tall he is—it's like he's towering over you.

A moment later, he returns with the other record, "They're hard to come by," He scrawls something on the record sheet, then rings up the album.

You thank him and pay, leaving him to wonder if you'll be back.

The next time you see him, he's with a pretty girl. She's got bleached blonde hair and a cute button nose. She's beautiful. Of course, you recognize the tall man—how could you not? He and the girl make their way to the counter; they both order.

"For Remus," A woman calls out. 

Remus—that's his name.

Remus steals glances at you the entire time he's at the coffee shop.

"Who's that?" Marlene asks with a coy smirk.

"I don't know. Came into the shop a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, so you have a little crush." Marlene is full-on smirking now.

Remus goes red, "What? No." He shakes his head, "No," He repeats, trying to reassure himself that he doesn't have feelings for you.

"Sure," Marlene mutters, taking a sip of her drink.

Remus rolls his eyes.

About a month passes by until you see one another again. You walk into the shop. Remus looks up when the bell rings, and he smiles.

Sirius is there today, and they go up to you.

"What're you looking for?" 

You answer, and he leads you to the section as if you don't know the alphabet. He doesn't mean it that way, you know that. 

Still, you tease them about it, and their face goes stark red, "Sorry. I just— Sometimes record shops can be confusing in how they order things. Like, when it goes from 'C' to 'D,' does the 'D' section continue on the other side, or does it continue straight across? You know?" 

"I'm kidding around," You smile, "I've been here before. Granted, it was just once, but I know how it works. Thank you, though."

"But of course," Sirius curtsies, "Anything for you..."

"Y/n," You introduce yourself.

"I'm Sirius. Like the star," He clarifies, "Like, that's my name. S-i-r-i-u-s," They spell out.

You giggle, "Nice to meet you, Sirius."

"Nice to meet you. I love your silly accent, by the way."

"You're the one with the silly accent," You shoot back.

"Not when my accent is outnumbering yours."

You tilt your head and hum, "Strangely, I understand what you mean."

"It'd be concerning if you didn't."

"Do you frequent this shop a lot?" You ask, flipping through albums.

"My friend is the owner." Sirius shrugs.

You perk up, "Remus?"

Sirius quirks their brow, "You know him?"

You get hot, "No."

He narrows his eyes, "So, how do you know his name is Remus?"

"Well," You whisper, "I came in a while ago. He was really nice when I checked out. Then, a couple of weeks later, I saw him at a coffee shop, and they said his name when his drink was ready."

"You're a creep," Sirius raises his eyebrows.

"No!" You argue.

"Such a creep." Sirius begins walking away; you rush to follow him, "I'm telling him." He says.

You begin to panic, "Wait! No!" 

Sirius keeps walking to the front.

"Sirius," You whine, "Stop!"

"Remus!"

You silently will him to stop.

"Remus!" Sirius calls again.

"Lovely lady over here has something to tell you," He smirks.

If looks could kill, Sirius would be six feet under.

"I just– um–" You sputter out, "I just wanted to thank you for helping me with the record last time I was here."

You swear he blushes, but you don't want to look to find out.

"It was no problem," He smiles, "Maybe I could give you a call if any of their other records come in?"

Sirius smirks from the sidelines.

"Um..." It takes a moment to process, "Sure." You nod assertively, "Yeah. I would love that!"

Remus's world has turned upside down—you keep him on his toes. He stays up because, maybe, you'll call tonight. You eat lunch with him sometimes, and gone are the days when he eats the same thing every day. Gone are the days when he closes up shop at 7:00. Gone is routine.

"Do you want to have dinner tonight?" You ask, wrapping the cord around your finger.

"I'm actually going out," Remus responds. You frown, and your imagination runs wild. What if he's going on a date?

"Hello?" He asks, and you realize you've blocked him out.

"Huh? Sorry?"

"I asked if you wanted to come with me. You can meet my mates. If you want." He spits out. Saying it once is nerve-wracking enough; saying it twice is terrifying because what if you say no? What if you don't want to meet his friends? What if–

"I'd love to!" You cut his frantic thoughts off, and his heart swells.

"Really?" He asks.

"Of course!"

So, now, you're standing in front of a random pub, wondering if he's pranking you. It's been about five minutes, and you know that's not a long time to wait, but your anxiety is getting the better of you. 

Then, five turns to fifteen, and you're wondering how pathetic you look.

"Y/n?"

Your head whips to the door, "Sirius? When'd you get here?"

Sirius checks their wrist like they're checking a watch, "'Bout half an hour ago. Did the dimwit not tell you to meet us inside?"

You shake your head, "He said to meet him at the bar. So, I guess he didn't quite specify." You shrug.

"Well, come on in," He holds the door open for you.

You thank Sirius and look around for Remus. He's not hard to spot, and Sirius jogs over to their booth before whispering something into Remus's ear. He looks up and smiles brightly.

"You're here!" He exclaims.

"You're here." You say, tone almost scolding him. 

Sirius whispers something else to him.

His face drops, "Oh... sorry for not telling you to meet us inside." His mouth quirks to one side in a guilty expression.

You smile, "It's okay. I forgive you." You sit next to him.

"Oh, thank god," He rests his hand on his chest, "A pretty girl being mad at me would've been my death."

Heat blossoms in your chest.

"So..." James begins, "Now that flirt time is over, can I say hello?"

"Ha!" Sirius barks out, "Flirt time!"

Remus gets warm, "This is James, another one of my school friends. James, this is y/n."

All James says is: "You're his lock screen, y'know?"

Remus kicks him under the table.

"I mean–" James smiles, "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I have never seen your face before."

"Smooth," Sirius whispers to James.

You smile at Remus's red face.

"Ignore him, please?" He begs.

You nod.

Sirius and James tell you embarrassing stories about Remus for the rest of the night, and the boy starts to regret introducing you to them as a pair.

 At the end of the night, he drops you off. 

Rubbing his face, he sighs, "I hope they weren't too much."

You smile brightly, and Remus feels like he could fall to his knees, "I had an amazing time. They're really fun, Remus."

You leave him with a kiss on the cheek—he puts his hand up to the spot and smiles the whole way home.

"I've missed you," You say into the phone.

"I've missed you, too. You should just let me come over." Remus begs for the umpteenth time.

"I don't want to get you sick," You frown, "That would be horrible."

"It wouldn't be the end of the world. We could quarantine together," He smirks, "I could make you soup, and we could cuddle together on the couch and watch some ridiculous rom-com."

"Take a girl out on a date first!" You joke.

"I would if you weren't so busy being poorly." Remus groans.

"So you're asking me out on a date?" You smile and do a little happy dance.

"I guess I am."

He's smug, and you can tell.

A week later, you sit in a fancy restaurant—the kind where the prices aren't even on the menu. Remus is fidgety. He's wearing his nicest button-down, and you think it looks funny on him. He gets red at your comment and looks down at the table with pursed lips.

"I just meant that I'm so used to you wearing those comfy sweaters. You look good, though." You earnestly smile at him.

"You look nice tonight, yourself."

"Well, I'm going on a date with this charming boy. I wanted to impress him."

"I hear he's very impressed."

You insist on paying, but he won't let you. As soon as you pull out your wallet, he snatches it from you.

He kisses you before leaving you at your car, and you don't want it to stop. It's soft and tender, and it's everything you hoped it would be. 

One date turns to two, which turns to five, and now you're anxiously pacing in your flat. You're dating Remus; you have been for a few months, and you're not sure when it's an appropriate time to ask the question, but you'll ask tonight. Except Remus doesn't come. He doesn't call, either. 

After an hour of worrying, you call Sirius.

"Hello?" He answers—it's obvious he's high.

"Hi. Do you know where Remus is?"

Sirius laughs, "Right here."

"Can I talk to him?"

You hear rustling as Sirius passes the phone.

"Hello?"

"Remus," You whine.

"Hey there. What's going on?" He's calm—too calm. He's also high.

"You were supposed to come over tonight." You frown—it's a fruitless effort. He can't see you.

"Shit. 'M sorry, baby," He frowns, too. You can hear it.

"'S okay. I was just really looking forward to seeing you." You dramatically slide down your wall into a crouching position.

"I'd come over, but, y'know," He wanders off.

"You're so high you can barely walk?" You offer.

He takes it, "Yes."

"It's alright," You sigh, and Remus feels terrible, "Promise you'll come over tomorrow?"

"Promise," He answers.

But then tomorrow comes, and Remus has yet to show up. So you dial his number, but he doesn't pick up. An hour passes until your phone rings, and you're anxious and giddy and hopeful as you pick it up.

"Sorry." Remus's voice is gruff, and you can hear the guilt in his tone.

"It's okay. You can still come over. It's not too late."

"No," He sighs, "I'm sorry, but I can't... I have to break up with you."

Your face drops with your stomach, "What?"

"I can't be with you. I'm— I'm sorry."

"No!" Tears blur your vision, "You can't just tell me we're over. Explain yourself!"

"I just can't do it anymore. It's too hard."

You choke out a sob, "What's too hard? Loving me?"

"No," He sighs, and he sounds tired, oh so tired, "I'm incapable of giving you what you need."

"And who gets to say what I need?"

"Y/n, for your sake, I'm ending this. I can't provide for you in the way you'll need me to."

"Remus," You sigh, "I don't understand. What do you mean you 'can't provide' for me?"

"I can't emotionally be there for you. I'm sorry." 

And as you hear the dial tone, you let your sobs out.

You feel empty. Your only friends are Remus's; now you feel like you can't talk to them. 

"You're daft," Sirius scolds, "Y/n was lovely, and you break up with her over the phone?!"

Remus hangs his head in shame, "Yeah, I did."

Then Remus looked up and was met with one of his worst fears. He'd been on Lily Evans's bad side more than once, but never like this. He'd only seen this stare a handful of times, but not once was it directed at him, until now.

She marches over to the booth, never breaking her stare, leans close to Remus, and slaps him, "You twat!" 

He doesn't know what to say, so he holds his cheek and waits for her to continue.

"You hurt an exceptionally lovely girl for what?! Because you're insecure? Because it was too scary to feel loved so deeply? That girl gave you her all, Remus! And this is how you treat her?" Lily's face is red at the end of her rant, and Sirius tries to hold in their snickers.

Lily narrows her eyes at Remus, "I can read you like a book, Remus Lupin. I know what's going on in that magnificently stupid head of yours! Go apologize to her!"

"I can't," He murmurs, "I've already ruined it."

She rolls her eyes, "You won't know unless you try, and not knowing will eat at you, and you will die confused, sad, and alone."

"She has a point," Sirius agrees, "I mean... we all know you'll just mope around until we push you to talk to her, but by then, it'll be too late. She will have found somebody, and they'll get married, and you'll just be that bloke from when she moved here. Go talk to her."

"What do I say?"

It's almost midnight when a knocking at your door wakes you. Groaning, you get out of bed and make your way to the door.

You undo the bottom lock, keeping the chain in place.

"Yes?" You peek through the crack, surprised to see Remus holding flowers on the other side.

"I'm sorry."

He thinks he's surely blown it when you close the door, but he hears the chain clanking as you fully unlock it.

"What are you doing here?"

Remus wants to cry at the sight of you. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, with red tracing your waterline.

"I—" He has a whole script planned out but seems to have forgotten every word, "I have flowers," He settles on.

"For me?"

He nods.

"What are you doing here?" You ask again, taking the flowers.

"I'm here to apologize. I was a dick the other day."

You tilt your head, "You mean the other day when you broke up with me?"

Remus almost doesn't catch the sarcasm, "I'm sorry. I get so caught up in my head—"

You turn from him, "Come in," You mutter as you walk into your kitchen.

He closes the door behind him and toes his shoes off, "I get scared when I let somebody get too close."

"Tea?"

"Yes, please."

He watches as you move around your kitchen, grabbing cups and boiling the water. He's missed you.

"Why let me get close at all, then?"

"Because I like you."

You turn and look at him, "Do you, now?"

Remus sighs, "Look, I fucked up, I know that. Do you think we can try again?"

You walk over to him, "You said you can't give me what I need. What does that mean, Remus?"

"I'm unfit to be with somebody."

"I don't think so. You were wonderful the past three months. So wonderful that I think, if you work on yourself, we can give this another go."

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, leaning in.

"I look terrible," You laugh.

"No," He rests his forehead against yours, "You're always beautiful."

"Kiss me." 

hi guys sorry if this is bad😇😇

my lovely mutuals <33 @sepptember @violetteshoneybee @ay0nha @maroon-winestain @prongsio @imabee-oralizard @storyofaromance @queerpumpkinnn @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @zvdvdlvr @reysdriver @g1rld1ary @starsval @vampieteeth @maddipoof @bruisedboys @ell0ra-br3kk3r

[luvontour]

❥ . . jealousy, jealousy > joe goldberg

- joe’s happy you’re making friends in london, until he notices the way that stupid writer looks at you.

joe’s hand settles on your hip as soon as the door closes behind him. it’s become a habit since your early stages of relationship. he simply follows as you say your hellos and press your cheek against other girls’ faces with loud kissing noises.

from what you told him, he wasn’t really interested in meeting your friends, if anything he thought of them as one of the many reasons he clung to you a little bit tighter every morning

“y/n, you made it!” joe watches as a peppy blonde throws her arm over your shoulder, not minding how the two of you were almost tangled together.

“hi! phoebe, this is my husband, joe” the blonde brightens up (something joe thought impossible) when you present him. he only nods with a small smile and shakes her hand, despite her attempts of hugging him.

she smiles “come, come. i have to introduce someone to you”

his hand burns into your side, fragments of earlier and your poor attempt of a quickie still in your head as the two of you follow after your friend(ish) to a secluded bar. where a pale, almost your height man sat, swirling his shot of whiskey in its glass. joe recognized him immediately. it’s rhys montrose, the writer nadia had been talking to him about earlier.

“rhys! y/n, the girl i had been talking to you about and her husband joe”

“it’s my pleasure” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. joe doesn’t miss the way his eyes roam you over, throwing the cleavage of your dress a longer stare, he watches you all over, probably imagining lewd scenarios only your husband was lucky to experience.

he wants to leave then and there, but he wants to give it a chance, for you. he can’t think of another reason as to why he would sit there and gulp through this guy’s staring and his always dismissed attempts at flirting with you.

he sees a perfect window when you excuse yourself from the group, something about the powder room, which you never get to, because along the way, he manages to sneak the two of you off to one of many guest rooms.

he knows you felt it too, the way rhyse was staring and making inappropriate jokes, undermining joe and your relationship, inviting you on many scenarios in which he wasn’t included, he doesn’t need anything other than his rough lips and kisses to express what he’s feeling right now.

angry, jealous, possessive? those were just a few of the feelings coursing through him as he moans into your mouth, caving and letting your fingers tangle in his hair and steer him around like a puppy.

“please” your plead breaks him, you look so pretty like this, everytime, even if you were worse than him, kinkier, dirtier, he adored having you like this, under his frame, blushed, sweaty and with your chest racing as if you had just gone running.

“i don’t know doll, what exactly are you asking me for?” his nose nips at your cheek and so do his lips, pressing open mouthed kisses to your skin as he waits for an answer

“fuck me.” he groans when you whisper so sweetly. “please, i want you inside me”

“fucking hell” he struggles to pull away from you even slightly. “you just know i can’t resist when you ask me like that”

there’s some fumbling, but he manages to fish himself out of his pants, tucking your thin underwear to the side before he easily sinks inside you. the two of you make animalistic- guttural sounds at the feeling, and he can’t help when he says

“can’t believe that guy thinks he even has a chance” he chuckles against your jaw before nipping at it, and he just stares. at your furrowed brows, your parted lips. and he listens to your whiny noises and how needy you get for him, and he feels complete.

not as fulfilled as he feels though when he’s sure rhys has heard you, moaning his name over and over until you come.

“y/n?” there’s some incessant knocking, and a faux concerned man on the other side. “are you okay in there darling? you’ve been a while”

“y-yes. yes! im good rhys. i’ll be out in a minute, i think”

“is there anything i can do to help?” god, you wish you could see the two of you from afar. joe’s nibbling at your jaw and neck while your arms around his own keep you closer than ever, your fingers tangling in his hair as you clench your pussy around him. you can’t pretend you’re just touching up your makeup in there. you can care less if the man is waiting for a response, the way joe whispers against you both reassurance and degradations sends shocks of electricity to your poor and abused bundle of nerves.

“are you gonna come?” he chuckles “come on my dick baby, let him hear you. let him know he will never be inside you. that he will never make you feel this good. show him”

“fuck- joe. i’m so close, please”

“i know angel, i’ve got you.” almost on purpose, his hips slam deeper and faster, his thumb quickly presses back and forth on your clit and with his beard grazing against your neck it all becomes too much for you to take. and you’re soon shaking around him, biting his lip after a chain of profanities and his name that you hoped were masked by the music playing outside.

all of this, unaware of the encounter your husband was going to have just outside the door with the relentless writer who did in fact hear everything that just went down

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 35

part 1 | part 34 | ao3

cw: Fred slander apologies to any Freds

“Okayyy,” Robin says with a shaky laugh as she points at everyone in the booth, going around the circle and introducing them in a single breath. “Amy-Tim-Vickie-Beth-Grant-Jordan-Fred, aaand Nancy. You, um, you already know— Nancy... r-right,” she stammers at Steve’s pointed glare, “so, um. Anyway!”

She grabs him by the shoulders; shoves him front and center like he’s a really cool new toy she brought to class for show-and-tell. “Everyone, this is Steve! Steve, this is—”

“You don’t have to say it again.”

“Oh, thank god.” She slides into the booth with a relieved huff, and Steve scoots in after her.

Despite the awkward tension and that bonkers introduction, everyone at the table does their best to act cool, to say hello and make him feel welcome while they wait for the band to start. Grant slides him the basket of fries, and Jordan compliments his watch, and Vickie asks if he’s coming to the last football game of the season, voice high and shy as she rambles about how ‘Robin’s solo in the halftime show is sooo good, you really should come see it!’ and wow.

Is Robin vain or something? She’s got a crush on a clone of herself.

Steve munches on fries and keeps an eye on the stage, hoping to catch Eddie before the show starts, and the whole thing’s… not so bad, actually. Kind of decent. Almost nice, until Fred fucking Benson ruins it. Steve’s saying something about the basketball team’s chances this season when the little asshole rolls his eyes and leans in to stage-whisper to Nancy loud enough for the whole table to hear, “The Hair? Seriously? What’s he even doing here?”

...Yeah, fuck this. “He’s getting a drink,” Steve says and storms off to the bar.

—

He’s not getting that drink.

Turns out a tenner isn’t a big enough bribe to get a bartender to break the law, so Steve nurses a diet Coke that he pretends is a lager and refuses to even look in the direction of the booth. Fucking Fred. What an asshole.

And what a stupid name, too, like— who looks at a baby and thinks, yep, looks like a Fred to me? Ugh.

Robin, bless her, has the good sense to leave him alone for a couple minute until he cools off, but then the music starts and she comes over to shout ‘stop moping and dance with me!’ and that’s the end of that.

—

The band is fucking awesome.

Steve doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't this: high energy, tight rhythms, a driving beat that makes him want to dance. The bass reverberates through the floor, up his shins and through his chest, and for a second it almost feels like he has his hearing back, like his whole body is a wall of noise, filled with the wail of Eddie’s guitar, the scratchy rasp of his singing voice, and Eddie's…

Eddie’s amazing. Lightning in a bottle as he bounces around the stage, hips moving to the rhythm, fingers blurring over the frets. He looks so fucking hot. Denim vest, silver rings, jeans showing a delicious amount of skin — skin Steve has put his mouth on; tattoos he’s tasted with his tongue.

God, he can’t wait to kiss him. Is probably going to combust if it doesn’t happen tonight. Or like, come in his jeans, more realistically.

They dance and jump and shout along to the covers they recognize, and when Eddie dips backstage to let the band do an instrumental thing, Steve shakes the sweat out of his eyes and heads to the bar for a water.

—

"Mind if I join you?" Nancy asks.

Steve sighs. This is what he gets for wandering off alone. Robin's still by the stage, twirling Vickie around swing-style to a frantic, jazzy drum solo in a move that's actually pretty impressive even if it makes no sense with the music, and Steve resigns himself to his fate and nods at the empty stool beside him.

They sip their drinks in silence — awkward and charged, old hurts hanging between them like static waiting to strike. "Sorry about Fred," she says eventually. "And- and for me, too, I guess."

Steve huffs a laugh. Appreciates the sentiment, even if it doesn't change anything. "It's fine."

She glances over at him, that journalistic focus etched into her face. “How are you?” she asks softly.

Another laugh under his breath. He thinks about answering her honestly, just to entertain himself. Pictures the way her face would fall as he went on and on: "Oh, you know. My mom left me to go ‘rest' in Evanston, like I don’t know that means she went to rehab without saying a goddamn word, and when I called my aunt to yell at her about it, she said some ice cold shit about how I should be happy my mom left me, because now I can keep the money from the lot fees all to myself, and I said ‘what lot fees?’ and it turns out mom had been hiding, like, a lot of money from me while I stressed out about our budget for months. Oh! And also my dad’s dead, but you knew that already. And also I want to hump my neighbor against a brick wall so bad my dick is turning purple. How are you?"

"...Steve?" she tries after a moment.

“I’m good,” he settles on. Gives the bullshit answer because that's all they've ever been to each other, isn't it? Bullshit. "Yeah, I'm good," he tells her, "and you?"

"I'm fine." Her smile is tight, bags under her tired eyes, and then she sighs out long and slow, "Actually, I'm not. Everything's been..."

Steve tries to listen, but he just can't bring himself to care. Doesn't want to hear about whatever drama she's going through with the guy she dumped him for. And then Eddie comes back out on stage, and he's looking out into the crowd, and no fucking way is Steve letting him look over here and think he's cozied up with Nance. No fucking way. Nancy's ruined enough good things for him already.

"Sorry," he cuts her off, not feeling sorry at all as he stands up and walks off without looking back at her.

"Steve?" She calls after him. "Hey- wait!"

Steve makes his way to the front of the crowd.

“Howdy,” Eddie greets the room, stepping up to the mic with a Hollywood-worthy grin. His guitar’s strapped over his back, the neck pointing to the ground, and he looks so good up there. So comfortable and real.

And his outfit's different now. The denim vest is gone, and he's wearing a cut off tank top. The tank top; the one he wore that night, loose around the arms to expose his pretty, painted ribs. Steve looks up at him, transfixed. Like staring straight at the sun.

“How’s everybody doing?”

The group at the stage all whoop and cheer, and Eddie laughs delightedly; thanks them all for coming, thanks the tech and service crews. He introduces the band next, pointing each member out by name and letting them do a little solo, and then he swings his guitar over his shoulder and says, “We got one last song for you tonight!”

More cheering from the crowd. Eddie plants his feet and scans the room, a small, secret smile lighting up his gorgeous face when his eyes land on Steve. Just for a second before he looks away, but that smile stays firm, and Steve knows the next words are meant for him.

“Now, this isn’t our usual style, but uh… a little birdie told me someone here might need to hear this.”

Eddie strums his guitar. The opening notes of Go Your Own Way ring out, sped up and made grittier to fit the band's sound. Steve’s heart is in his throat.

“Good morning, sweetheart," Eddie beams as his bandmates join in, "this one’s for you.”

—

part 36

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[azzifudd]

possession

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: four times paige & azzi knew they belonged to each other

rated: teen

2.5k words

disclaimer: many made up events obviously

[AO3 LINK]

The ball swishes through the net, nearly soundless in the empty gym. Azzi has been taking shots for the past three minutes. She hasn’t missed yet.

She had arrived at the UConn campus only 15 minutes ago, to surprise Paige for her birthday, and after nearly five minutes of hugging, that Azzi is sure Paige would’ve turned into more if her parents hadn’t been there, she had been dragged to the gym where the other girls were in recovery after a strenuous practice.

Paige had left her in the gym, promising to be back soon with the others, and Azzi had picked up a ball to pass the time. As she takes another jumpshot, one of the doors bangs open and she flinches. Her shot goes wide, bouncing off the back of the rim.

Two boys have entered the gym, and Azzi vaguely recognizes them. One of them rebounds her ball and brings it over to her.

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I’m Andre. I’m on the men’s basketball team.”

She’s heard Paige mention him once or twice.

“Y’know if you want any pointers with your jumper, I could help you out.” His eyes run over her, from head to toe.

“What’s your name?” He asks, overeager.

“Azzi,” she replies, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Dude, that’s Azzi. Bueckers’ girl.” His friend has come up beside them, after hearing Azzi introduce herself.

Azzi feels a flush overtake her entire body. Part of her almost wants to be offended that this boy, on one of the top college teams in the nation, didn’t recognize her. She’s the number one high school player in the nation, and it’s not even close. But another part of her, a bigger part of her, loves that so many miles away from home, a complete stranger hears her name and knows she’s Paige’s.

“Oh shit, you’re Paige’s Azzi. Azzi Fudd!” Andre covers his mouth and groans. “I was trying to teach you how to shoot.”

His teammate cackles beside him, slapping him on the back. “She’s been in three point contests with Steph Curry, my guy, I think she’s good.”

“Damn, that’s embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”

She smiles up at him, now charmed by the whole thing. “It’s cool, I didn’t know who you were either.”

“Oh! She got your ass.” His friend laughs again before turning to her and introducing himself. “I’m James.”

“Azzi.” They shake hands.

“Like I said, I know. PB does not shut up about you.” He does a quick dribble behind his back before pulling up into a smooth jump shot that swishes through the net. “We’ll be shooting around after practice and it’s ‘Oh, Azzi never would have missed that shot. She’s the hardest worker I know.”

“You shoulda seen her a few months ago. Always tapping away on that iPad, putting together clips.”

Azzi remembers the video that Paige had so proudly shown to her family. How silly, and sweet, and how Paige it had been. It makes Azzi even more excited for dinner tonight, where she will finally get to tell Paige that she is committing to UConn.

The door pushes open again, and this time it’s Paige who rushes over to them, throwing an arm around Azzi’s neck.

“Hey, these losers bothering you?” Paige asks, laughter clear in her voice. But Azzi knows that it would only take one word from her to set her off if Azzi asked.

“No, they’ve been cool,” she says.

“Well, Coach heard you were here and wanted to say hi. See you guys later.” Paige leads Azzi deeper into the facility.

And if they’re a little late to meet everyone because Azzi pulls Paige into a secluded broom closet for some alone time, no one needs to know but them.

//

Azzi’s sprinting around the top of the court, rounding one screen and then another, trying desperately to get open. She’s open for a split second, and that’s all it takes for Paige to hit her with the pitch perfect pass. She rises to take the three that could tie the game when a body barrels into her legs.

She hits the floor hard. A whistle blows as the referee calls what Azzi hopes is a shooting foul. She stays on the floor for a moment longer, catching her breath, when suddenly the arena erupts in noise.

Whistles blow, and she finally looks up to see a furious Paige being pulled back by their teammates as one of the referees signals a technical foul. She is spitting furiously at an opposing player. Nika is at her side, simultaneously holding her back from causing more trouble for them and firing Croatian insults at the other team.

Azzi won’t find out until someone shows her the footage after the game, but Paige had stormed over the moment she was fouled and had pushed the offending player with two hands to the chest.

The referee points off the court. Paige has been ejected.

Coach has run over, screaming as the officials struggle to get everything under control. Aaliyah runs over to help Azzi up.

“Paige! Get your ass over here, now!” Geno’s voice somehow booms over the raucous Gampel crowd.

Paige throws her arms up, shrugging their teammates off of her. Satisfied that she has calmed down, everyone begins to back off. But instead of heading off the court like she’s supposed to, she makes a beeline for Azzi, who is still slightly shaken but standing.

Paige raises a hand as if to touch Azzi’s face, but she stops, recognizing where they are. She rests the hand on her shoulder instead.

“You good?” She asks, voice hoarse from shouting.

Azzi nods, still breathing hard. “Why did you do that, you idiot.” But even as she asks, she knows the answer.

Paige smiles crookedly. It is soft despite the noise around them, tender in a way Azzi knows Paige saves just for her.

“Bueckers!” Geno roars. They know if he could storm the court for her, he would have already.

“Go,” Azzi says. “I’ll see you after I win this game.”

“That’s my girl.” Paige leaves the court with a smirk on her face, cheers of her name following her.

Azzi sinks the free throws to send them to overtime. And when they end up winning by eight, even Geno can’t complain too much.

@bueckersbuckets35 it’s bullshit that paige had to apologize. they were targeting azzi all game. bet she’d do it again in a heartbeat if she had to

Paige Bueckers liked this tweet.

//

“That layup you had in the third!” Paige mimes a euro step, mimics taking a shot with her left hand. “Left hand, baby, bang!”

Hailey van Lith laughs at Paige’s antics, pushing at her playfully. “I mean, it wasn’t enough to get the win against you guys, but it’s always a good time pulling up against you.”

Even if they didn’t talk all the time, it feels like there would always be a special connection between all the girls who had played together for USA Basketball.

Hailey glances around. “How’s the wifey been? I didn’t get a chance to talk with her at the arena.”

Paige grins at that. She knows Hailey means it as a joke, that they are way too young to even think about marriage, but there is always something deeply satisfying for Paige to hear someone acknowledge that she is Azzi's and Azzi is hers.

“She’s doing aight. Her surgery went well. It’s just a shit deal y’know.” There have been plenty of tear filled nights for them both since Azzi had experienced the freak injury, but now Azzi’s ready to move forward, and Paige will be there every step of the way, like Azzi was for her.

Hailey smiles apologetically. “I was really sorry to hear about it. I remember you could never shut up about playing with her.”

“Thank you.” They both jump when Azzi pops up beside them. She gives Hailey a quick hug hello before turning to Paige.

She’s surprised when Azzi wraps her arms around her waist, tucking herself under Paige’s arm, pressing their bodies together.

They are no strangers to PDA. In fact, if Paige had her way, she would never stop touching Azzi. But the younger girl is usually more reluctant around people she doesn’t know, and with Hailey’s teammates around, it is a surprise to see her so affectionate.

Paige isn’t going to complain. She tightens her arm around Azzi’s shoulder and presses a quick kiss to her temple. She catches a whiff of alcohol on her breath. That explains the touchiness.

They chat with Hailey for a bit longer, but when Azzi begins to zone out mid convo, Paige excuses them both and walks them up to Azzi’s apartment.

“She’s so pretty.”

“Huh?” Paige pauses as she wipes the last of Azzi’s makeup from her face as they stand in the bathroom together.

“Hailey. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Paige shrugs. “Mm, I guess so.” She moves in closer, nose pressing into Azzi’s head, breathing in the scent of her. “Let’s go to bed.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything else until they’re tucked in together in her bed.

“You were talking to her for a long time.”

“Huh?” Paige groans into the back of Azzi’s neck, already half asleep. When she finally registers the words, she replies, “Who?”

“Hailey,” she replies, like Paige should know exactly what she’s talking about.

“We were just catching up. It’s been a while.” Paige presses a kiss to the side of Azzi’s neck, ready to fall asleep.

“Do you miss playing with her?”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” Paige props herself up on her elbow, turning Azzi onto her back to face her. She softens at the look on her girl’s face.

She presses a soft kiss to the dimple in Azzi’s cheek. And then she kisses her nose, her forehead, and all over her face until she’s smiling.

“Hey,” Paige says, making sure Azzi is looking into her eyes as she speaks. “You’ll be back. Best player in the nation, baby.”

Azzi pulls her into a deep kiss that still sends Paige’s head spinning and heart racing even after they have shared so many. When they pull apart, they are both breathless.

“Me and you.” Azzi’s eyes are shining and clear.

“You and me.” Paige gives Azzi a roguish grin and lets her pull her down once more.

//

“Yo, where’s P?” KK asks, scanning the room. It’s Senior Night, and they’re all getting dressed for the game. Even Azzi has just slipped into a jersey, even though she isn’t playing tonight.

“The seniors are on the court already. I think they had to do a run through of the ceremony. Why?”

Azzi is suspicious. KK looking for Paige is always a sign of something potentially stress inducing on the way.

“Oh, no reason, I just wanna make sure I’m outta the way when Daddy Paige sees you in her jersey for the first time.” KK cackles, ducking out of the way of the towel that Azzi flings at her.

“Nah, we all know there’s no way this is the first time she’s worn it.” Ice chimes in.

“Shut up,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes, glad that the fluorescent lights hide her blush. Surprisingly, she hasn’t worn Paige’s jersey since they were in high school, and even though she’d never admit it to her teammates, she is very excited to see how Paige reacts to it.

The injured players head into the arena just before tip off. The place is packed with fans there to celebrate the players who have given their all for UConn.

Besides that though, the media presence is palpable. The entire basketball world is waiting to hear whether Paige is staying or declaring. Azzi has known for weeks that Paige has decided to stay at UConn for another season. She has unfinished business, and even if they won the title this season, her injuries have robbed her of too much time here.

Azzi feels eyes on her as soon as they get into the open. She has been linked to Paige since before they even came here, so everyone is clearly gauging her mood on such an important night. She could try to play it more coy, but she can’t fight the smile on her face when she sees Paige warming up.

She’s getting one more year with her person. One more chance to fulfill the promise they made to each other when she chose UConn. She’s so happy.

Azzi waves up into the stands where hers and Paige’s family sit together, all wearing Bueckers gear. Drew jumps up and down when she makes a heart with her hands in his direction.

She’s stepping onto the court when she feels it. Goosebumps pimple her skin and she turns to where the majority of the team is casually warming up.

Paige stands at midcourt, staring at her, slack jawed. Azzi smiles coyly at her when Paige takes a step toward her, only to be stopped by CD who is standing next to her with a clipboard and an eyeroll.

Azzi just laughs and goes to take a few shots near the others. She isn’t close to being cleared to play, but she misses it so much. Even just being on the court during game days can be emotional lately. Soon, she feels a heated presence at her back.

Azzi turns around and finds Paige standing close. Too close for such a public place, but she can’t bring herself to move. Paige runs her eyes up and down Azzi’s body, lingering on where the number five splays proudly over her chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You tryin’ to get me in trouble?” Paige asks, voice low.

“Just wanted to support my favorite player.” Azzi looks up at Paige from beneath her lashes, and finds those blue eyes fixated on her lips.

“She must be pretty damn good if she’s your favorite.”

Azzi watches the muscles in Paige’s arms and shoulders flex as she links her hands behind her back, stopping herself from reaching out to touch.

“She’s not bad.” Azzi smirks. “Could use some work on her shooting stroke though.”

Paige scoffs. “I’ll show you my str-”

Two arms suddenly wrap around their shoulders as KK comes barreling into them.

“K, what the hell?” Paige pushes at her as they fight to stay steady on their feet.

“Yo, mom and dad, y’all have got to tone it down.”

KK smiles at them. “Media girl is on the way for some pics and P looks like she’s about to jump you.”

Azzi flushes as they all separate.

“What would y’all do without me though, seriously.”

KK strikes a ridiculous pose, distracting the media girl so Paige and Azzi can rearrange themselves into a more platonic pose.

Azzi hopes no one can see how flustered she is when Paige whispers in her ear to keep the jersey on for after the game.

They take a few quick pictures before it’s time for tip off. It’s an easy win, everyone playing with joy and anticipation of the celebration after the game.

For a moment, Azzi feels deeply sad. She wants to be out there, next to her girls.

But then the final buzzer sounds, and Azzi watches Paige bask in the attention of the crowd who loves her almost as much as Azzi does, and forgets everything but the beaming smile on Paige’s face.

[seungrem]

Seonghwa (Ateez) x male!reader

Burying the Hatchet

request ~*+ - masterlist ~*+ - part 1 of ??

summary: Though rival mob bosses separating their territories by north and south, m!reader and Seonghwa frequently bump into each other at socialite events. With tension building up in m!reader’s half of the city, he needs decide whether or not to confide in his connections for support.

( overview: mafiaboss!seonghwa, mafiaboss!reader, both socialites and well known, reader controls the south, seonghwa controls north, associates/goons = mob members, Ricky (zb1) feature because he’s very mob coded, reader is lowkey tsundere, established non-romantic relationship w/ eachother, reader inherits wealth, the park family = seonghwa’s mob group )

( warnings: mentions of plausible violence (guns/fighting), blood, injuries (scrapes/bruises/cuts), hostile personalities, mentions of psychotic/psychopathic behavior, threats, cursing )

emoji code:

🌿 ( long story/series )

-🧸 ( very light fluff )

🫧 ( pieces of angst here and there )

🪐 ( mafia / mob AU )

☁️ ( stands for y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Chatter echoed through a ballroom bustling of attires fit for only the most affluent. If it were up to him, ☁️ would be perched on the mezzanine, people watching until the gala had concluded. Instead, he walked into room preparing a flashy smile to anyone who would have the misfortune of catching his gaze.

“Can I take your jacket for you, sir?”

As ☁️ awaited the host of the gala’s presence, a teenage boy wearing a tuxedo approached him. The boy flinched slightly as ☁️ turned in his direction, ☁️ assuming he was just someone who worked there.

“No- I’ll keep it, thank you. Could you tell me where Ricky is, though?” ☁️ asked, turning his attention back to the crowd of people in the distance.

Though the two were the same age (early 20s), Ricky had made a name for himself apart from his parents- unlike ☁️. The man had the city’s media in a chokehold, with news of his whereabouts and appearances circling weekly. In contrast, ☁️ had inherited his parent’s wealth and “business” after their passing. The public also kept a close eye on him, but for reasons less alluring.

“Last I’ve seen he was on the other side of the room beside the DJ. Here’s your pamphlet.”

“Thank you.” ☁️ replied, him then taking the paper and watching the boy scurry away. He sighed as he flipped through the pages, reading carefully over the guest list and seating arrangements.

‘What the hell is Seonghwa doing here?’ ☁️ muttered to himself before taking a few steps toward the crowd. Recognizing a familiar face slip out of the mass and approach him with a smile, he quickly placed the pamphlet into his suit jacket as he walked.

“☁️, how have you been?” Ricky called out, waving to the man as the two closed the distance in between them. It was then that the two embraced, holding each other for a moment more. ☁️ noticed Ricky’s navy blue suit had a velvet look to it, him feeling the texture as he held onto the man’s forearms.

“I’ve been great, how about you? And what happened to the blonde?” ☁️ responded, smiling and then pointing to Ricky’s hair. The last time that he had seen Ricky, the man had bleached his hair a platinum silver. Now, his raven-black hair was slicked back, with a few strands falling onto his forehead.

“I’ve been better, and my roots grew out so I just dyed it back to a natural color. But listen, before you leave tonight, I’d like to speak to you. In the meantime, you need to do your rounds.”

☁️ huffed, knowing that this meant he had to greet everyone.

“We’ll be fast.” Ricky assured, once again grabbing the man’s arm and escorting him through the crowd.

☁️ smiled, introduced himself, shook hands, and kissed cheeks more times than he remembered that night. Following a conversation with a couple, Ricky led ☁️ out of the crowd, the two now standing for a moment.

“We done?” ☁️ asked, exhaling.

“One more. You aren’t going to like it, but please be respectful. I don’t want my gala to become a war-zone.”

“Is it Seonghwa?”

“Yes. But-“

“Why the hell did you invite him?”

“I do business with him just as I do with you. I’m prompting neutrality.”

“Understandable. But why do I gotta go over to him?”

“Because you two aren’t going to mean-mug each other all night like you did last year. That caused problems, did it not?” Ricky led ☁️ to his table, the two sitting beside one another.

“I don’t even have my guys with me tonight.” ☁️ argued, though he knew was simply delaying the inevitable.

“Neither does he. It’s invitation only this time.” Ricky’s tone was calm and fresh, though firm. ☁️ didn’t want to push his buttons, ultimately deciding to get it over with.

“Alright, let’s go.” ☁️ straightened his tie and stood up, Ricky following.

“Last I saw him he was standing beside the DJ’s stage. Let’s walk behind it.” Ricky said, motioning ☁️ to follow him.

The two tiptoed around the DJ’s elevated setup, emerging on the other side of the room after carefully stepping over wires and boxes.

“There he is. Behave, please.” Ricky whispered after leaning into ☁️.

“Always.” ☁️ muttered back before noticing that Seonghwa had three of his goons around him. The man leaned his back against a column and looked around the ballroom. He wore a bold outfit- a shiny gold top (that exposed some of his cleavage) with a brown fur coat and grey dress pants. His hair was in an up-do with strands hanging in front of his eyes, and silver chains dangled from his neck. ☁️ thought that Seonghwa was insanely hot, especially in this outfit, but would never vocally admit it.

“You said invitation only, Ricky.” ☁️ muttered through his teeth.

“It was... Let’s just make this quick.”

As the two approached Seonghwa, two of his goons noticed and walked over to his side.

“Seonghwa. I’m sure you remember ☁️.” Ricky chirped, hiding his nervousness very well. ☁️ and Seonghwa stared at each other for a few seconds before ☁️ forced a smile and held out his hand.

“I’m sure you’re well.” ☁️ remarked dully, watching as Seonghwa took his hand and squeezed. It took everything in ☁️ not to call him an asshole, but Ricky was luckily there to mediate.

“I am. It seems like you’re here alone tonight.. what a shame.” Seonghwa replied in his usual deep voice, ☁️ watching the man look him up and down.

“I’m here to donate to a charity, not intimidate socialites with my goons.” ☁️ kept a straight face, but wanted to laugh in Seonghwa’s face. “And you look rediculous.” ☁️ whispered after leaning into Seonghwa, only taking a step back when Ricky grabbed his arm and muttered a ‘Jeez.’ Seonghwa sneered and looked around in response, licking his teeth as he nodded in amusement. ☁️ could tell he was already ticked off.

“I’ll see you later tonight, yeah?” Seonghwa nodded his up as he spoke, patting ☁️ on the arm and nodding to Ricking before departing to his table with his goons.

“You couldn’t have made that any worse.” Ricky whined, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at ☁️.

“Somebody has to humble him.”

“I don’t want any bad blood here, ☁️.”

“I said that I understood. If he can’t take criticism then maybe he shouldn’t be The North’s premier mob boss.”

“Well Southside’s premier mob boss seems to not know how to behave.”

“I was-“ ☁️ paused. “Well… He’ll be fine.”

“Right.. I’ve been meaning to talk to him so I’m going to do that now. The service should begin in the next few minutes. Make some friends while you’re here, you need them.” Ricky said before he began walking away. ☁️ gasped teasingly, the two smiling to each other as the distance in-between them grew.

—

His footsteps tapping up the staircase’s crimson-colored carpet, ☁️ was on the hunt for someone specific. He stepped onto the mezzanine and walked over to the beige railing, him then leaning against it. Scouring over the many faces on the dance floor and sitting at tables, ☁️ found that Seonghwa was nowhere in sight despite having seen him before the service had begun. Assuming that the man had left early, ☁️ frowned and turn around.

“Whatcha doin’?” Seonghwa asked, leaning against the wall a few feet in front of ☁️. The man’s goons weren’t next to him, but ☁️ could see them on the other ends of the mezzanine through the corner of his eye.

“I was looking for you. Have a minute?”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow and walked over to ☁️, standing beside him.

“Make it quick.” He muttered, looking down at the people below.

“I received this letter a few days ago. I wanted to ask if you knew anything about it.” ☁️ pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Seonghwa.

“People still write letters?” Seonghwa said with a scowl, pulling a piece of paper out of the envelope.

“So is it safe to assume that you weren’t the one to send it?”

Seonghwa took another minute to analyze the letter.

“No.. not my style... Whoever did hates you, though.” Seonghwa whispered, handing the piece of paper and envelope back to ☁️. “What’s the red stuff at the bottom? Don’t tell me it’s blood.”

“It is. Instead of signing a name, the blood is suppose to be the signature. That’s what I think, anyway.”

“Wow.. you really pissed someone off. Did you figure out whose blood it is?”

“Mine.”

Seonghwa laughed and turned to ☁️.

“So someone wrote a letter threatening you, somehow got ahold of your blood and smeared it onto the paper, and then mailed it to you?” Seonghwa shook his head with a smile. “Good luck, really. You need it.”

“I thought that you’d be more helpful. That’s all I needed, though. Have a good night.” ☁️ said, turning to walk away. Seonghwa quickly gripped his shoulder and stopped the man in his tracks. ☁️ to looked over his shoulder somewhat menacingly.

“Do you need help? Seriously.” Seonghwa’s unserious smile quickly turned into an expressionless display of concern, as he slightly leaned into ☁️.

“Never will I need your help. Stay on your side and I’ll be fine.” ☁️ quipped, brushing Seonghwa’s hand off of his shoulder and stepping away. He stopped upon hearing Seonghwa continue.

“I hate you.. but don’t die, please.”

“The hell are you talking about?” ☁️ snapped, looking over his shoulder again.

“That’s psychotic behavior, ☁️. You can’t just have one of your guys find and take care of ‘em.”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t just some guy on the street.”

“No shit.” ☁️ rolled his eyes. “I have to go, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa remained silent, watching as ☁️ strolled back down the staircase.

“How the hell did they know it was there?” ☁️ walked up the stone walkway to his home, with two of his associates following beside him. The mansion had been broken into, with a suitcase full of hard drives having been taken from ☁️’s chambers.

“Respectfully sir, we suspect a mole in the group. After the passing of your parents, the associates haven’t necessarily been well-monitored.” The older man beside ☁️ replied, opening a door for him as the three arrived to the entrance.

“Please get in touch with the gentleman who set the security systems up.” ☁️ paused as he stepped inside. “Actually, I’ll just do it. You two should go home for the night.”

“But sir, we really think someone should stay with you until everything’s resolved.” The second associate replied, following ☁️ as he unbuttoned his suit jacket in the spacious living room. The room glowed in orange and yellow hues from the lit fireplace. ☁️ sighed and turned to his two henchmen, a sense of nervousness trickling down his spine. He wondered if he could trust them, but also wondered if there truly was an outsider out to get him as Seonghwa suggested.

“I’ll take care of myself and this.. situation. Please, go home.”

“At least let me contact the programmer. I’ll get him here as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

1 week later

“Two events in a row? This must be a record.”

☁️ felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Seonghwa smirked, looking ☁️ up and down. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Wasn’t sure why you invited me.” ☁️ replied, crossing your arms.

“Oh, here I thought that you wanted to support charities..”

“You held a gala one week after Ricky and invited me on short notice.”

“Seems that I did. So?”

☁️ exhaled. “Thanks but I should go.”

“Wait.” Seonghwa held his hand out to stop the man. “I heard things weren’t going well on your side of the city. You sure you don’t need help?”

☁️ looked around the crowd of people surrounding him. This ballroom was smaller than the previous gala’s, but just as loud. ☁️ leaned into Seonghwa, who reacted by leaning forward as well.

“If I find out that you’re playing me again, it won’t end up for you.” ☁️ murmured into Seonghwa’s ear. Seonghwa leaned back up, with a seemingly offended expression.

“Are you accusing me of what’s going on?”

“No, simply warning you- just in case. I need to go.”

“☁️.”

☁️ turned around and slid past people to get out of the crowd.

“☁️!!”

☁️ froze as the room went silent. Everyone turned to Seonghwa as ☁️ slowly turned around to glance back at the man. An awkward silence filled the air for a few seconds, with Seonghwa not taking his eyes off of ☁️. After the chatter picked back up, ☁️ continued out of the room, leaving an abandoned Seonghwa alone on the dance floor.

☁️ walked through the hallways and toward the glass double doors, waving down a bellman as he did so.

-

A few photographers stood behind red ropes, clicking their cameras immediately after ☁️ began descending quickly down the white staircase. A few began shouting out to him.

“Hey, ☁️! What’re you doing in The North?”

“Have you and the Park family finally made amends?”

“You look great tonight, ☁️!”

☁️ smiled and waved as a bellman pulled to the curb with his grey sports car, getting out as soon as ☁️ reached the sidewalk. The bellman handed the keys to the man as the two walked past each other, ☁️ then jumping into the drivers seat.

“Hey, Mr. ☁️. The programmer was able to stop in today.”

“That’s great, has everything been recovered?” ☁️ responded as he walked into his home, an associate beside him.

“He said he needed a password.”

“To the computer? Why didn’t you call or text me? Is he available tomorrow?”

“He’s still here, just using the bathroom. I’ll tell him you’ve arrived after you put your password in.”

☁️ looked over to the associate after hanging his suit jacket up.

“It’s midnight.”

“It’s the only time he could come this week.”

☁️ raised an eyebrow and walked to his chambers past the living quarters and down the hall. After his shoes tapped echoed through the hallway, he leaned into the double doors, pushing them open. The lamp on his desk was already turned on at the other end of the room. ☁️ also noticed that the associate was still behind him, him turning to the man before walking inside of the room. He was suspicious at this point, hearing more voices in the living quarters.

“Why don’t you go let the programmer know that I’m back. Please tell the other associates that they’re good to go, as well. I don’t need anybody here right now.”

“You want us to leave you alone with the programmer? What if he tries to-“

“That’s an order. I’ll see you tomorrow.” ☁️ narrowed his eyes, allowing his voice to become slightly belligerent.

The associate sneered and nodded, turning around and walking toward the living quarters. ☁️ sighed and closed the chamber doors behind him, walking toward the desk in front of the large stain-glass window. Bookshelves covered the left and right walls, and though the room wasn’t huge, the ceiling was very high up.

☁️ walked around the other side of the desk, sitting down and tapping the computer’s keyboard to turn the device on. He didn’t put his password in, choosing to wait for the programmer to arrive. Another thirty seconds passed before the oldest associate opened the room’s doors, walking in.

“☁️. Do you have a moment?”

“Where’s the programmer?”

“I think he’s still talking to the other associates. I think we should speak in the meantime.” The associate called out, standing at the door.

“Come.”

The associate strolled slowly over to the side of ☁️’s desk.

“What did you want to talk about.” ☁️ asked, giving the man his attention.

“You know, your father and I were extremely close. He entrusted me to do everything beside him.”

“Yes, I remember.” ☁️ nodded, tilting his head to the side.

“He also hated the Park family with every fiber of his being. And I know that you’ve been going out of your way to attend Seonghwa’s galas.”

“To support his charity and rebuild my family’s reputation. Yes.”

“Do you think that your father would’ve wanted this? To knock down the legacy that he has built?”

“Excuse me?” ☁️ snickered. He felt his body become tense, and his tone dull.

“I just think that with you as the head of this.. well, what used to be a mob group, you’ve dug our reputation into ground.”

☁️ felt his body heat up, making him stand up and grab the associate by the collar. The associate responded by pulling a gun out from his back pocket and pointing it at ☁️’s head. ☁️ exhaled and let go of the man’s collar, putting his hands to his sides.

“You need to give this up, ☁️. It’s in your best interest. Your father wouldn’t want this.”

“And his inability to be harmonious with other people is what got him killed.”

“Put your password into the computer so I can put this gun down.” The associate muttered, tapping the gun against ☁️’s head.

“No.”

“Please don’t make me do this.”

☁️ laughed.

“You’re not gonna have the password if you do ‘this.’”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Don’t be an idiot, then.” ☁️ laughed again, pausing before quickly shuffling to the side and knocking the gun out of the man’s hand. The gun landed on the desk and slid across it, falling off on the other side. ☁️ leaped over the desk and grabbed the gun before the man could snatch it, ☁️ then kicking his knee out while still on the ground. The associate quickly stood up and ran toward ☁️ as he got on one a knee. With a loud bang, ☁️ shot the pistol, hitting the associate in the leg. The man fell to the ground and clutched his knee.

“Fuck.” ☁️ muttered under his breath, putting the gun on safety mode and into his pocket. He grabbed his computer from the desk and threw it through the stained-glass window, shattering it. The door then slammed open, with a bunch of ☁️’s members running in. After seeing the older associate on the ground, the group whipped their guns out and pointed them at ☁️. The man was already halfway out of the window at this point, him having jumped through the hole and falling into the bushes below. With scrapes and bruises along his body, ☁️ rolled out of the bush and secured the laptop beside him- though he presumed it broken. He shot up and ran alongside the mansion’s side, hopping over the iron fencing as soon as he reached the front of the building. ☁️ considered taking one of his cars, but quickly realized that the keys were still inside.

Continuing to run through the forest, he eventually emerged into the city after a few minutes. ☁️ noticed a university campus in front of him as he wandered, him power walking through it and waving a taxi down. He ran to its side and jumped in, him recognizing the driver as he did so. The two stared at each other through the rear view mirror before the driver smiled.

“Oh, right- you’re ☁️. I worked a lot with your father.”

☁️ froze with his hand on the car’s handle, preparing to run out.

“Your family has helped mine out a lot. But anyway, where to?”

“Can you just drive, please?” ☁️ asked nervously, his hand still on the handle.

“Sure thing.”

The two drove in silence for a minute before the driver pulled up to a red light.

“You alright? You look pretty disheveled there, chief.”

“Yes, just some work issues.”

The driver chuckled. “Your dad had the same problem. I’d always wait a block or two away after he handled business, and he’d come running over with ripped clothing and red fists.” He paused. “I’m a bit relieved that the whole mob business thing is dying, though. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”

☁️ pondered his words, repeating them in his head before responding. “..Yeah, I’m relieved as well. Can I bother you to drop me off in The North?”

“Oh, sure. I heard that you buried the hatchet with the Park family. That true?”

“I think that’s what I’m going to do now.”

“I see. Is there somewhere specific in the North?”

“Do you know where that gala was held today?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll have you there in a few.”

“Thanks.”

-

“Well, it’s an honor to help you through this last hurrah. I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you sir. How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t look like you have anything on you, respectfully. Just get me back next time you see me.”

☁️ nodded and slowly turned around toward the large building in front of him. There were no photographers, no red ropes, and no people wandering around at this point. With his computer under his arm, he began up the steps.

Upon walking through the glass doors, a receptionist was packing her belongings in a large purse.

“Oh, Mr. ☁️. Are you looking for the gala’s after party?” She asked as the man approached her desk.

“Ah- yes, I am. Can you tell me where it is?”

“It’s down the hallway to your left, the last door down. Also.. you’re bleeding a bit..”

☁️ looked down to where she pointed, seeing small patches of red stain through his white button-up shirt.

“Oh.. yeah, it’s just part of the outfit. Thank you though.”

“Oh, ok.. Have a goodnight.”

“You as well.”

☁️ continued down the dark hallway, stopping in front of a frosted glass door with loud music playing behind it. Streaks of blue, pink, and white flashed across the glass as he pushed the door open. The room was pretty big, with confetti and balloons spread across the floor. A group of around a hundred people danced in front of a smaller DJ booth, with a few wallflowers conversing amongst each other with glasses in their hands. ☁️ walked over to a table full of champagne glasses, grabbing one and sitting in the nearest seat against the wall. He plopped down, leaning his head against the wall and chugging the glass. He looked around, though couldn’t see Seonghwa from where he was. It didn’t help that the room was somewhat dim, with pink lights illuminating half of the room from behind the DJ. Spotlights also casted quick flashes on the dance floor, them occasionally dancing across ☁️’s body as he sat.

Choosing to calm down before searching for Seonghwa, he opened his computer and tapped the keyboard. Surprisingly, it survived the seven foot fall and still worked- the only flaw being a few cracks in the top corner of the screen and a few missing buttons on the keyboard. ☁️ sighed and placed the computer on his lap, him then closing his eyes. 

-

“Psst. Hey, sleepy head.”

☁️ heard someone whisper from beside him, making him jump. He opened his eyes and looked to his left, seeing Seonghwa sitting beside him. He clutched his computer and looked around, seeing that everyone was preparing to leave the party. The music had stopped, and a few workers were vacuuming the carpet. Seonghwa’s face was barely visible in the dim, pink lighting, though his voice was softer than ☁️ had recalled. “So, you came back..?”

“…I think I need your help.” ☁️ hummed.

Seonghwa smirked. “I won’t rub it in your face even though I wanna. Do you need a place to stay?”

☁️ nodded, standing up as Seonghwa did. Seonghwa placed a hand on ☁️’s back, guiding him to the exit. The flashing lights turned into white spotlights that illuminated the exit at this point.

The two followed the crowd out of the room and down the hallway. As they walked out of the glass doors, ☁️ recognized the cars lined up on the sidewalk, with multiple bellman awaiting the guests at the bottom of the stairs.

“We’re all the way in the front.” Seonghwa stated, walking down the staircase with ☁️ and turning right down the sidewalk. A bellman approached the two, handing Seonghwa a pair of keys. He unlocked the red sports car and removed his hand off of ☁️’s back, hurrying in front of the man to open the vehicle door for him. ☁️ rolled his eyes and attempted to hide a smile as Seonghwa gestured him inside. As he sat down, ☁️ covered the patches of red along his top with his arms and hands. Seonghwa shut the door and ran to the other side, him hopping in and hurrying to start the car. After a few seconds, the two were speeding through empty city streets.

“Have you ever been to this part of The North?” Seonghwa asked with a tender tone, turning to ☁️ as he pulled into a lofty condo complex’s garage.

“This is my city. Of course I have.”

“Our city.” Seonghwa retorted.

☁️ smiled at the answer, opening his door after Seonghwa had parked on the highest level.

“We’ll have to take the elevator to the lobby, and then we’ll take a different one to my place.” Seonghwa stated from the other side of the car. ☁️ waited for Seonghwa to lead the way, but upon standing beside ☁️, the man froze.

“What the hell happened?! You’re bleeding.”

“I know.” ☁️ sighed, him having forgotten to cover the red stains.

“You’re explaining everything once we get inside.”

“Ok.”

Seonghwa linked his arm with ☁️’s, ☁️ speculating that Seonghwa thought he was too badly injured to walk by himself, which elicited the act.

The two quickly reached the elevator and stepped inside. With mirrors along the walls, a gold accent lined the corners of the elevator. Seonghwa leaned forward to press a button, and the two were soon moving up.

“Are you tired?”

“Extremely.” ☁️ replied monotonously.

“I could tell by your tone. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep in my guest room.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll take the guest room.”

“No. You can take the bigger bed.”

☁️ was too tired to argue back, instead choosing to lean against the mirror as the elevator continued. After a few more seconds, the door buzzed and the two walked through. The lobby’s lights were dim and the spacious room was empty. The men walked across the marble floor to another elevator, Seonghwa pressing the button again though the elevator doors opened immediately. The two walked through, and Seonghwa pressed the button of the highest number- 16.

“You’re on the highest floor?”

“Yes. It’s a penthouse with lots of windows , you’ll like it.”

The two stood silent for a few minutes until the elevator buzzed again, the men stepping out into a small walkway. Taking a few steps forward, Seonghwa flipped a switch, which turned on a small lamp above the two of them. He then pulled out his keychain, picking out a key and twisting it into the black door.

“After you.” Seonghwa said, gesturing ☁️ forward. Seonghwa’s penthouse was full of monotonous colors and exotic furniture- definitely a reflection of his personality. Small lamps lit the space as the two walked into the living room area. Large windows sat on each side of the walls, with the moon peering down from the large skylight above.

“I do like it.” ☁️ murmured as he moved his arm away from Seonghwa’s. Seonghwa simply smiled in response.

“Let me show you to the room.”

“Show me the guest room.”

“No.”

☁️ rolled his eyes, following Seonghwa down the end of the hallway. He switched his lamp light on, it illuminating the large bedroom. The walls, bedsheets, and furniture were all visually-pleasing shades of grey. The windows on the right side of the room touched both the floor and ceiling, stretching across most of the wall to reveal a beautiful view of the city. To the left, a door led into another room.

“Just sit on the bed. I’ll get you some new clothes and medical stuff.” Seonghwa instructed, walking into the bathroom. ☁️ walked to the bed and sat, him waiting for the man to come back out. After a minute, Seonghwa walked toward ☁️ with a small bottle, cotton balls, along with a roll of bandages and placed it beside ☁️. He then trudged over to the wardrobe across from his bed, opening it and throwing a pair of green and blue pajama pants with a white tee onto the bed.

“Those are old so they should fit you. Do you want me to get out while you change?”

“I don’t care, just turn around.” ☁️ replied taking off his pants and unbuttoning his top as Seonghwa faced his wardrobe. He threw the man’s pants on but put the tee around his neck, exposing some of his stomach and arms.

“Okay.”

Seonghwa turned around and sat on the bed. ☁️ pushed the shirt away from his arm for Seonghwa to clean.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened?”

“My associates tried to overthrow me and take over my company’s accounts. They said I wasn’t being a mob boss.”

“Is that where the letter was from?”

“I think they’ve been planning this for a few months now. They probably got ahold of my blood after your guys tried to take over my company’s building. Your goons show no mercy.” ☁️ chuckled, but Seonghwa frowned.

“I didn’t initiate that, by the way. That was my father, and we’ve.. talked about it.”

“It hasn’t happened again, so I don’t care.”

After a few seconds of silence, Seonghwa continued disinfecting, and then wrapping ☁️’s arm.

“So what specifically happened?” Seonghwa asked.

“Well, I got home from the gala. I was told someone was coming in to help me retrieve missing data from drives that were stolen after Ricky’s gala last week. I’m pretty sure they lied, and one of my guys cocked a gun at me and told me to unlock my computer so they could use the drives they stole. I didn’t do it obviously, and I ended up shooting him. The gun probably fell out of my pants when I jumped out of the window and ran into the city.”

“You jumped out of a window?” Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly worried. He wrapped the bandage around ☁️’s arm and clipped it so that it stood in place. ☁️ lifted his pant leg up to expose another cut, him then scooting back on the bed to put the cut beside where Seonghwa sat.

“Do you mind?” ☁️ asked, looking over to Seonghwa.

“Not at all.” He replied, preparing another cotton ball to use.

“And.. yeah, I kinda did. It was only six or seven feet and I landed in a bush. So it was fine. I used this to smash the glass.” ☁️ said, pointing to the computer that he placed beside him. “That’s why it’s fucked up.”

“I have another that you can use.” Seonghwa said as he applied alcohol to the cuts.

“I have important filled on there. I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet.”

The two remained quiet again until Seonghwa finished wrapping the wounds.

“Alright, you should be good.” He stated, grabbing the used cotton swabs and walking into the bathroom with them. ☁️ grabbed the alcohol bottle and roll of bandages, carrying them back into the bathroom for Seonghwa.

“It’s 2:30 in the morning. You should rest.” Seonghwa said, watching ☁️ sit back down on the bed, Seonghwa then walking to the lamp.

“Before you go-“ ☁️ blurted out, stopping Seonghwa.

“Hm?”

“Why’re you helping me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Why’re you doing this for me?”

“Because I like you, despite the “conversations” we’ve had in the past. And we’re not like our parents.”

☁️ nodded.

“Sleep well.” Seonghwa called out, turning the light off.

“Wait-“

Seonghwa turned the light back on, exhaling. “Yes?”

“Sleep in your bed.”

“I already told you I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then move over.”

☁️ scooted back toward the wall with the windows so that Seonghwa could sit in front of him. Seonghwa leaned over to turn the lamp off before pulling the covers over the two of them.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I worried about you a lot.” Seonghwa muttered, him then turning his body to face ☁️.

“Shouldn’t have.” ☁️ murmured in response.

“Well, I did.”

☁️ smiled. “Well, thanks for worrying.”

Seonghwa smiled back, grabbing ☁️’s hand from under the blanket. “Do you mind?”

“No.” ☁️ hummed before turning his body around. He scooted his body back to lie against Seonghwa’s. Grabbing the man’s hand and pulling it over his waist, then two now laid together a spooning position.

“Goodnight, ☁️.” Seonghwa whispered.

“Goodnight.”

a/n: genuinely can’t tell if my stories are good anymore 😄 hope u enjoyed tho! alsoooo gonna be a part 2- just to follow up and see how the reader and seonghwa build a relationship together while the reader is still under the other mob’s protection. def gonna be more fluff and character development in that one!! there can be ❄️ if u guys want it bad enough lol

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[fairy-writes]

hello there i hope you have a great day today, can i request an albert x reader. the reader is holmes younger sister (could be an age gap but if you uncomfortable you can make the reader sherlock older sister). im kinda interested that the reader and albert is ike in a fake engagement but slowly they fall for each other. im sorry if its a lott or confusing 😖😖😖😖

FAKE… OR IS IT?

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Albert James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Fake Engagement, Reader is short

Notes: I wrote this with the reader being the Holmes’s middle child. So, in between Mycroft and Sherlock :)

Here are their ages!

Mycroft: 31 | Reader: 27 | Sherlock: 24

__________________________________________________________________________

“Sit up straight, Sister.” Mycroft chastises, and you roll your eyes, propping your heeled feet up on the coffee table, much to his chagrin. You can tell he’s less than pleased with the mud on the table by the tightness around his eyes. 

“Bugger off, Mikey.” You grumble and slouch even more in your seat. His frown deepens, but he knows better than to try and get you to obey. If anything, it would make you rebel even more. 

You had never been one for proper manners if you could help it. You had always been a rough-and-tumble type of woman, playing in the dirt with the neighborhood kids while Mycroft and Sherlock dealt with their studies. Sure, you also had studies of your own. But overall, you tended to ignore whatever your governess taught you in favor of learning how to handle weapons from your father. Mycroft sits back in his seat and sighs, 

“At least sit properly when the company gets here.” He mutters under his breath. 

That gets you to sit up straight.

“Company?! Since when?!” You choke and hurriedly set down your teacup before you can spill it down your front. Your elder brother had summoned you to his office that morning with a telegram. But he hadn’t explained why you were there, even with your pestering. Mycroft glares at you pointedly and is about to answer when there’s a firm knock on the door. 

“Come in.” He calls, his voice booming and loud in the quiet room. 

A tall young man, perhaps your age, enters the room. He’s attractive, almost devilishly so. With slicked-back brown hair and piercing green eyes, he’s dressed in the typical uniform of all soldiers. 

You recognize this man. 

Your younger brother wouldn’t shut up about his family. 

Lieutenant Colonel Albert James Moriarty. 

You glare at Mycroft, who ignores your look in favor of standing up and shaking Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty’s hand. Brushing off the front of your dress, you stand as Mycroft gestures to you. 

“This is my younger sister,” He says. Your name follows soon after. You plaster a bright smile on your face and extend your own hand. Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty bows slightly and introduces himself before you turn to look at your brother. 

“I assume this is where I take my leave?” You ask, and he raises an eyebrow, 

“On the contrary, dearest sister, you’ll be taking part in this meeting.” Your face betrays your shock before you can school it into a facade of perfect calm. 

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty notices but doesn’t comment. 

Mycroft gestures for you to take your seats before his desk, and you do so, perching on the edge of the seat like a bird ready to take flight. In contrast, Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty sits back, relaxed in his chair, setting his hat in his lap and steepling his hands together. 

“So, mind telling me what this ‘important mission’ is about?” He says politely, and you look at him from the corner of your eye.

Important mission? 

Just what was your elder brother planning? 

Mycroft leaned his hands on his desk and then leaned his weight on his hands. It seemed he wasn’t taking a seat quite yet. 

That meant things were serious. 

“There’s a mission I am entrusting to the both of you. It’s of the utmost importance and must be handled immediately.” 

Wait…

“You’re what?!” You blurt just as Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty opens his mouth to speak. You don’t give him the chance to talk. You stand and jab a finger at Mycroft, the other hand clenched in the fabric of your dress skirt. 

You weren’t about to be a pawn in your brother’s game. You weren’t even an MI6 agent or soldier of his! 

“Absolutely not! This can’t possibly be legal! I’m just a civilian!” You stand and jab a finger at Mycroft, the other hand clenched in the fabric of your dress skirt. Mycroft stares down at you. He had always been the tallest of the three Holmes siblings. You were saddled with the hefty burden of being the shortest. 

“You know this as well as anyone that MI6 operates outside the law,” Mycroft says simply, and you grind your teeth. He had a point. But still… 

“What about Miss Moneypenny?” You ask, and Mycroft shrugs, 

“She’s on another mission with Colonel Moran. You two are the only ones I trust with this.” He says, turning his intense stare onto you and Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty. 

You flinch at that. Mycroft never openly said he trusted you. It was sometimes implied, but he knew how fickle you could be! Was this mission really that important?

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty stands and accepts the papers Mycroft hands him. He then extends a hand for you to take. Begrudgingly, you take it and allow him to help you to your feet. 

At least your ‘mission partner’ was a gentleman. 

You accept Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty’s offer to take you back to the Holmes London estate and sit across from him in the carriage. He opens the papers Mycroft gave him and begins to read. 

“Oh dear…” He mumbles, and you look over from where you had been watching the scenery go by. He has a frown pulling at his lips and creasing his brows. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, and he turns the papers around so you can read them. 

“It seems we’ll need to be engaged for this mission to work.”

Your engagement was announced within the next week. 

You had even commissioned an artist for an engagement photo of sorts. Granted, it was just for show, but still! You had to stand still for hours in a dress your mother picked out and that you loathed all for one portrait. 

You never understood how royalty could do it. 

Speaking of your parents… 

Part of the facade was to make sure everyone was in on it. Maybe ‘in on it’ wasn’t the right word. Because this was a top-secret mission, after all. So you couldn’t exactly tell your parents that this engagement was fake. But you did have to tell them you were getting engaged lest you incur the wrath of your mother. 

Wanda Holmes was a proper woman. She was everything you weren’t. Prim, proper, ladylike. The only thing you got from her was her height and her temper. She hated that you weren’t the little lady she dreamt of having. But there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. 

In contrast, Timothy Holmes was a bit of a rule breaker. He fostered your love for weaponry and often challenged you to a shoot-off to see if you let your skills rust over. You inherited his knack for getting under people’s skins, and it was a wonder that he was still married to your mother after thirty years. 

Telling them was an… interesting adventure, to say the least. As your carriage rumbled up to the country estate where they resided, they met you outside. Your mother had her hands clasped together, a newspaper crunched in her grasp. Her face was dark with disappointment. 

Like the light side of the moon, your father all but bounded up as you stepped out of the carriage. 

“Dearest daughter!” He bellowed, and you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Dearest father!” You tease right back and step forward into his embrace. He squeezes you tight and lifts you up into a spin. You shriek with laughter and cling to him to make sure you don’t fall when he sets you back down. 

“Darling, at least let her get into the house before you bother her.” Your mother says, and you roll your eyes but don’t say anything. 

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty steps out of the carriage, and your father’s demeanor changes. His smile is still there, but it no longer reaches his eyes. He extends a hand, and when Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty takes it, you can tell he’s holding back a wince from how hard your father squeezes it. 

“Timothy Holmes. It’s a pleasure.” Your father says curtly, and you can tell Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty can tell he’s being judged. But he offers a polite smile nonetheless,

“Albert James Moriarty. The pleasure is mine, Mr. Holmes.” He says, and it’s then that your mother approaches. Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty shakes her hand,

“You must be the infamous Wanda Holmes. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Your mother’s face smoothes over, and she looks at you,

“At least you’re marrying someone with manners.” This is her only comment, and you can see that the newspaper in her free hand is the one announcing your engagement. 

Perhaps you should’ve informed them by telegram instead of coming to visit for dinner… 

No… That would’ve made her even angrier than she already was. 

She soon ushers you into the little cottage that served as your parents' retirement home. The minimal staff on site has already prepared and served dinner, but you don’t eat just yet because your father catches your shoulder. He has a knowing gleam in his eye, and you can’t help but get a giddy smile on your face. 

Of course, he wouldn’t forget. 

Your mother notices, and her face sours. 

“Can’t this wait until after dinner?” She asks, and now your father scoffs,

“Of course not, my love! It’s tradition!” He crows, and you can see Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty start to ask, but you’re taken out back before anything can be asked. 

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty follows you out, and by then, your father is setting up targets with you, assembling the two pistols you always used for this little exercise. You brush off your hands on your dress and hand your father the revolver. You take your own and pocket it in the holster strapped to your waist. He does the same and looks to Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty. 

“Mind giving us a signal?” He asks, his tone much more friendly yet still a bit frosty at the same time. 

Your ‘fiancé’ seems to pick up on what’s happening quickly and nods. He allows both of you to take a stance before calling out a signal. 

The game takes less than twenty seconds. 

You whip out your gun and unleash all six bullets in the cylinder and barrel. Your father does the same, and before you know it, both of your guns are empty, and your ears are ringing. Holstering the weapon, you wait for your father to do the same before approaching the targets. 

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty is called forward to inspect the targets as well. 

“I believe your daughter is the winner.” He tells your father, and you grin proudly. 

“Guess I haven’t lost my touch, Father Dearest.” You tease, and your father slaps his thigh in defeat,

“And I guess I’m losing mine!” He chirps, and your mother calls from the doorway.

“And it’s time for dinner!”

The carriage ride back is quiet. 

“Where did you learn to shoot like that? I’ve never seen someone so accurate in a quick draw.” Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty says, and you jolt lightly. The food you had eaten was sending you into a food coma, and you had been dozing until he spoke. 

“My father. He was known as “Dead-Eye” for a long time until he retired from the military.” You said, and he nodded in appreciation. 

“He taught you well.” 

You smiled and played with your fingers. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty.” You say genuinely, and he arches an eyebrow, 

“You should call me Albert. We are engaged, after all, my dear fiancée.” His tone is borderline teasing. But you can tell he’s being genuine.

And for whatever reason, it makes your heart race. 

The mission is kicked into gear three months after announcing your ‘engagement.’ 

The gala you are attending is only for married or engaged couples. Everyone was investigated to ensure no one single was sneaking in. Why they wanted to keep single folks out was a mystery to you. But you relented and accepted the invitation as the ‘Future Mrs. Moriarty’ with as much grace as you could muster. 

You produced the invitation from your handbag and handed it to the man checking said invitation. Your free hand was looped through Albert’s arm, resting in the crook of his elbow. He chatted amicably with the doorman until you were announced as a couple and ushered inside. 

The air was already alive with the sounds of music and dancing couples. The two of you make some rounds around the sides of the dance hall, looking for your target. Hell, you even danced the waltz to a few songs! All those lessons you thought were useless were sure coming in handy now… Perhaps you should thank your mother for forcing you to listen to your governess as a child. 

Albert leans down to whisper in your ear as he brings you in from a gentle spin. 

“He’s at the top of the stairs.” He murmured, looking for all the world like he was whispering sweet nothings to his fiancée. But instead, he was walking you through the next phase of the plan. Seeing as your job was to kill your target, he was instructing you on how to get to his office, where he would meet you and find the documents he was looking for. 

Albert was to find the incriminating evidence. You were to kill the target if he tried to resist. 

The office was warmed by a crackling fire. There’s a large mahogany desk in front of the fireplace with documents and papers scattered across the surface. You clutch your purse closer to your chest, feeling the sturdy weight of the revolver inside. It was comforting. 

You had one job, so you would do it, and you would do it well. 

The doorknob turned, and you jumped, sneaking a hand inside your handbag to draw the revolver. The door opens, and the target spots you in front of the dying light of the fireplace. 

“Who are you?!” He bellows, but you know no one would be able to hear him over the sounds of music and talking. 

He doesn’t hear the door shut behind him until Albert slides the lock into place. He whirls and tries to push past your fiancé, but it’s like trying to move a stone wall. 

“What are you going to do to me?!” The target demands, and Albert smiles a terrifying smile. It was nothing like the kind and even tender smiles he had been giving you as of late. This smile darkened his eyes. 

It was almost… Cruel…

“Nothing if you cooperate.” He says darkly and pushes the man to sit in the chair before his desk. You walk behind him and press the muzzle of your revolver to the back of his balding head. He freezes, a drop of sweat traveling down his temple. 

Albert rifles through the desk, and no one says a word for what seems like forever. 

At least… Until the target tries to run. 

The chair has a low back. It’s almost more of a stool, so he throws his head back and cracks it into your nose. You stumble back and fall, tripping over the hem of your dress. The only thing keeping you from firing your gun is the fact that your father had engrained it into you to not keep your finger on the trigger until you were ready to fire.

Albert freezes and reaches into his suit jacket coat, but you’re faster. 

Before the target can even make it two paces, you fire your revolver, and the bullet sinks into his skull. Brain matter and blood spatter across the carpet. The pain sets in as Albert helps you to your feet and hands you a handkerchief for your bleeding nose. 

There’s no way you could go back out into public like this…

And as always, it seems Albert reads your mind. 

“We’ll escape out the window.” He says and pockets a few documents. 

“Did you get what you need?” You ask, and he nods, his smile tender and warm again.

It makes your heart flutter. 

The two of you escape out the window like Albert had said. Luckily, the carriage was already waiting outside, so you were able to retreat without being seen. 

Mission accomplished. 

You scowl at Mycroft as he reads through your very first report from MI6. 

“It’s a bit lackluster, but everything went according to plan?” He asked, and you huffed. 

“Except for the part where I broke my nose.” You say, your voice slightly garbled from the bandages on your nose. Mycroft simply nods, 

“These things are expected to happen. Be glad it wasn’t anything more serious.” He says, tangles his fingers together, and leans his chin on them. “If you’d like, we can feed the newspapers a story about your and Lieutenant Colonel’s parting of ways. You don’t have to be engaged to him anymore.” He continues, and you freeze. 

Not be engaged anymore? 

“What about Mother and Father? They’ll be furious.” You say absentmindedly, and he cocks his head to the side. 

“Since when have you ever cared what they think?” He says, confusion coloring his tone. You avert your gaze. 

“I’m just saying… I don’t mind taking more missions from you from now on…” You mumble and stare at the carpet. But you can hear the smile in his tone when he speaks next. 

“If that’s what you desire, sister dearest. I’ll let Lieutenant Colonel know of your decision.”

[slowlydifferentbluebird]

Dreams come true - Aespa High school Au- Day one

Hey, long time no see people. This is dropping out of nowhere, but this afternoon I felt incredibly inspired so this is the result of some hours of works. I always wanted a long serie involving a gender neutral Reader X Aespa. I would define this as romance/slice of life. The idea is about an on going serie, but it depends but you people, so let me know what you think about it throw comments, asks, DMs, whatever, I just need a good feedback. Maybe in the next parts I will talk about this project more, but for now enjoy and good read🫶❤️

"Oh man, I can't believe you're finally here. Do you even know how much I dreamed about going to school together? This is so freaking dope!", Mark exclaimed, jumping around you, all excited and hyper about your presence. And indeed,it was a dream coming true for both. Mark has been one of your best friends since the childhood and, even if at one point you start living in two different countries, yours friendship never changed. Just when both of you already gave up on the idea of living in the same city again, a miracle happened: you won a scholarship because of your grades. So now here you are, in your new uniform, on the street, directed towards the first day of your new school life.

It was exciting, very pressuring, but definitely exciting, as a proper first day of high school should be. Meeting new friends, new teachers, maybe even love? All these thoughts were spinning in your mind and you were so thankful that your best man was there to make everything easier. Mark was an extroverted, funny and good-looking boy, so you were sure you would have been an easy way into the class dynamics. And well...you were right: you were not entered in class yet and he already introduced you to Taeyong and Johnny. They were so funny and you immediately clicked with them. You had the hunch that this year was going to be fun.

Your entrance in the building was eye-catching since day one: backpack kept on just one shoulder, hands in the pockets and three of the most popular boys chatting and laughing with you. More than a student looked at you confused, asking to each other who the new face was. On the hallway of the second floor, where your class was, you were telling Tae of that time when Mark was so scared of an horror movie that he almost pissed himself off, when suddendly someone started running in your direction. "Oh my God, you're finally here", a girl voice screamed in your ear, making you deaf for few seconds, while launching her arms to your neck, pulling you in the most affectionate embrace of the last years.

You had not to see her face to recognize that voice; the voice who kept you company every night, the voice who shared all her secrets with you, the voice that sounds like home to you. "Aeri, I'm happy to see you too, but please stop choking me", you chuckled against her torso, while she kept squealing and squeezing you. If Mark was one of your best friends, Aeri was the definitely the other one. Honestly you know her through Mark, because back in the days you needed someone as nerdy and appasionate about manga and anime as you, so for Mark it was natural to make you two meet, even if just online. Considering that it was your first time meeting in real life, the affectionate behaviour of the girl was more than justified.

"Oh, you're the usual tsundere, such an idiot", she commented, letting you finally go, but still showing her brightest smile. Of course this scene got attentions and reactions. "Man, I wish Giselle would squeeze me too against her ches-", the desire of Johnny was interrupted by a slap on the neck of Tae, a scene that already smells like routine. "Aeri? Did I hear correctly?", a petite girl with blonde short hair appeared from behind your best friend smirking. "Yes, Aeri. How am I supposed to call her if not with her name?", you answered her, confused, looking at the two girls like if you were missing a piece. "No, you're right, Aeri is her name, indeed, but apparently she's too cool for that, she prefers that we call her Giselle", the blondie explained, taking a good look at you. "Stop it!", the japanese scolded her friend, slapping her arm. "Don't listen to Minjeong, she talks like that, but we all call her Winter here", she added, introducing finally the name of the other girl. "Uh? Winter? Is that because you like the season?", you asked, trying to find a sense to that odd name. "No, it's just because she's a cold bitch", Aeri immediately replied making you wheeze and receive a slap back from Minjeong.

After all the chaos of the past minutes, you all went into the class, because the lessons were about to start. However another moment of confusion got you inside: no one was taking a seat or leaving their stuff. "You look adorable when you are confused", Aeri teased you, pinching your cheek. "Leave my bestie alone, it would be confusing for everyone. Listen to me, this school has a weird tradition: the first day our seats are decided through a draw, in this way we avoid fights for the best spots and we're encouraged to interact with new people or some shits like that", Mark explanation was totally in his stile but at least the concept was clear. It looks like your dream about sitting with one of your best friends was destinated to remain a dream. You shrugged, whatever, you were just happy of being in the same class and you wanted to make friendship with everyone anyway.

Miss Sunny, your homeroom teacher, arrived soon enough and after introducing you to the class quickly, she immediately started the draw. Every name called got a reaction from the whole classroom. The most fun part was when Johnny and Tae were picked to seat together, making both of them curse under their breath, it was the fourth year in a row as deskmates. Another interesting pick, probably just for you, was when Mark and Aeri became deskmates too; you for sure didn't expect them to sit together. But honestly you were too busy thinking about your own fate: all the people you met were already picked, even Winter was already called. "The next student is...drum rolls...oh! The new arrived!", miss Sunny exclaimed, making everyone fix their gaze on you. You were still acting cool and nonchalant, but all that attention was killing you inside. "Let me see, where can you seat? Mhh, even if you're acting all tough, you seem a good kid...alright, go seat in the third row, on the window side. I'm giving you a coveted place, so study hard to thank me", your teacher decided, smiling at you warmly. Everyone in the class seemed to love miss Sunny and you were starting to get the reason: she was solar, funny but not nosy. You can feel the affection and love she had for her students and viceversa, even a crazy head like Mark seemed to respect her.

You went to seat, letting you go on the chair lazily, already exhausted from those attention, but relieved that the worst part was gone...probably. That scene alone made Mark and Aeri chuckle and giggle, you were just so...you in their eyes, every action screamed your essence and personality. For example everyone attached their backpack to the back of the chair, but not you, you just left it on the floor. You didn't even think about it, you were just curious 'bout your deskmate, and it was about to be decided. "And next to the new student...drum rolls...Ningning! Finally our youngest came out!", Sunny announced, reading the piece of paper she picked from the box. A short girl with brown hair collected in a neat ponytail shyly walked towards you, holding tightly her satchel. She was clearly embarassed and she said nothing nor looked at you until the teacher went ahead with the draw.

"N-nice to meet you...I'm N-ningning, but you can call me Ning if you want...I'm the youngest of our class so please take g-good care of me", she introduced herself with a soft voice, stealing glances of your figures at the end of every sentence. For some reason that made you feel at ease, it's not like you were glad about her embarassment, but meeting someone more shy than you gave you like a sense of peace. "The pleasure is mine...Ning. Let's be good friends from today, alright?", you spoke with a soft tone, offering her a kind smile and that had probably a good effect on the younger girl, because immediately seemed to have less difficulty in looking at you, furthermore the tiniest smile appeared on her lips. "Oh, wait, your name...you have to be the friend of Gigi", the tiny girl commented, realizing that your name was too familiar to be a case. "Gigi? Oh, you mean Aeri, I already forgot that here she is called this way...however yeah, I'm her best friend", you nodded, stealing a glance of your bestie, who seemed interested in your convo with Ning, even if you doubted that she could hear anything. "That's very good know. I'm very close to Gigi too, so any friend of hers is also a friend of mine", she concluded, finally showing you a proper smile, and damn if it was cute.

The first few hours of lesson flew away easily, it was more an introduction of the programs of the various subjects and some news regarding the school in general; for someone like you who was used to take few notes, you didn't even have the need of opening your backpack. Your antics surprised someone in the class, they made also raise more than an eyebrow, but probably they just had to get used to you. Talking about the class in general, you were not a lot of students, 15 to be precise, and in a way or another you already met and talked to like half of them, it was definitely a good number for your first day, at least in your standard. Ning was cuter and more comfortable with you at every chance of conversation, Winter, even if introduced as cold, was actually very funny, she always had a ready answer; Johnny and Tae were a constant show, always bickering and making the class laugh, meanwhile Aeri and Mark got you covered in every occasion, you just needed to look at them and the problem was already vanished.

One person though catched your eye fast enough: it was a beautiful and pale girl with long and black hair; despite her good look, it was not that the reason of your interest: you actually got her looking in your direction more than once. Now, you were not the type of person who starts to talk with strangers, but you had to ask her if it was all good. So, during the first moment of pause, you got up and walked towards her, gathering all the courage a shy ass like you could collect. "Ehm...hi, sorry to bother you, but I noticed that you looked at me frequently, so...do you need something?", you asked, trying to sound as nice as possible, you didn't want to be rude or anything, you were just curious. "Oh, I...", the girl looked at you, completely surprised, almost shocked by the fact she got caught. "...I was not looking at you, I just want your place", she blurted out, trying to escape from the embarassing situation. "Do you want...to sit next to Ning?", the tone of voice during your question was clearly disorientated by her reason. "What? No...I meant your place next to the window: I like to watch outside during the classes so...", the pretty girl explained herself, letting out an embarassed laugh at the end. Why does she always have to end up in these situations?

"Don't mind her, Karina is just a loser in a hot girl body, you'll get used to her soon", Aeri reassured you, while sitting on a table of the cafeteria. "She's actually one of my closest friend here with Minjeong and Ning. I wish that you could have met her in better circumstances, but it's fine, it's still pretty normal for her standards", she shrugged, taking a bite of her lunch. Somehow that info made you feel a tiny bit guilty, you didn't want to make her life harder or similar, maybe later you could have tried to apologize. "Winter, Ning, Karina...how many best friends you have, I guess my best friend role is pretty common", you teased her with an evil smirk. "Yah, you dummy! That's not true, you know that you're special", she scolded you, starting to hit your shoulder lightly. Now that you were finally living her, you were noticing how much she physical and affectionate she was; she has always been sweet and kind online, but this was a different level. However you were not complaining about it.

"Aww, the special friend, you could have said that best friend meant girlfriend", Winter joined the teasing squad, while joining your table with Mark. "Oh, shut up! We are just best friends, I told you", Giselle complained, throwing a bit of food to her friend, to hide how hard she was blushed. "Excuse me? Best friend? That person right there is MY bestie, so please keep your dirty hands away, thank you", Mark said, making Aeri gasp, indignant. "Shut up too, Mark Lee! You may even be the person who made this friendship born, but now our connection is way stronger and deeper. And what have you said about my hands? No, because I'm about to smack your dumb face with these and then...", the war of the best best friend was already started and you playfully rolled your eyes back, knowing that this discussion would be part of your daily life from that moment. "This is all your fault", you accused Winter, pointing your plastic fork towards her, while laughing. "Divide et impera, my dear", the blondie laughed back, before winking at you.

On your way back to class you let the other three go ahead, you stopped to a vending machine, buying a snack for apologizing to Karina. With poor nonchalanche. you placed it on her desk, coughing to get her attention. "So, yeah...this is for...before...because...you know...". Why was apologizing that hard for you? You just had to say sorry, and instead you were there blocked, looking like a complete idiot. "Thank you", Karina said smiling, interrupting your rambling, "you didn't have to, it was my fault, but I really appreciate it", she added with a calm tone. In that moment the loser was missing, it was the hot girl talking to you. "Oh, well, let's just forget that silly episode and become friends", you proposed, looking down to hide your red cheeks. "Friends? Sounds good to me, call me Jimin then", she accepted, caressing softly your hand as proof, and you really used all your will to not scream. Jimin really shocked you, you didn't expect her to have this deadly dualism, your heart was definitely beating faster.

You returned to your seat, still recovering from that unexpected interaction. And yet it was not the moment to relax, because Ning was looking at you with a demanding stare. "Well? What about me?", she asked, making you mind go blank. You started to blink your eyes non-stop, giving her the signal you had no idea of what she was talking about. "What about my snack? You took one for Karina but not for me, your deskmate?", she asked, scoffing and crossing her arms. "No, Ning, wait, I-", your explanation was interrupted by the fact the Ning suddendly stood up and that really made you panic, you didn't want to create a case your first day. "No, Ning, listen, it's not as you seem, it's because first it happened a thing, let me just explain-", you were interrupted again, this time by her laugh. Ning seated again, laughing so loudly that the whole class turned their heads in yours direction. "Oh my God, look at your face, the fear in your eyes is so funny", she said, holding her stomach. You looked towards your two best friends, searching for a sense of all that: Mark just shook his head while Aeri mouthed "she's a bit crazy". "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, it was just a little prank, you are not mad at me, right?", she asked, whiping away her tears and honestly you were about to give her a lesson, but then she leaned towards you and put her face on your shoulder, giving you puppy eyes. You sighed, giving up: her cuteness made you weak, maybe soon or later you will be able to resist to pretty girls.

It was long and tiring, especially on a mental level but your first day of lessons got to an end. Your social battery was so low, you just wanted to go home and rest. Mark and Gigi proposed you to hang out after school but honestly they knew so well that you were going to refuse, but it was still worthy to give a try. They at least got permission from you to take you home, or better, to the small apartment you were going to live for the next year. All the people you met that day were funny, interesting and shit but it was nice to spend your time with just your best friends. They brought till in front the door of your apartment and, after trying to enter without success, they finally went home too, but not before a last hug: Mark hug was very brotherly, while Aeri just squeezed you again. You went in, plopping on the small couch and looking at the rooftop. It was just the first day and you were already exhausted, but why then couldn't you stop to smile and be eager for the next day?

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 24

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, oral sex, handjob.

Part 24

Patrick has a new girlfriend. Liana doesn’t care. She’s just stating a fact. Patrick and Art competed against each other in the French Open finals. Liana sat on Art’s side next to Tashi, and on Patrick’s side, she saw his parents (a surprise in itself) and someone she didn’t recognize. And she was beautiful. So beautiful. But Liana didn’t care. All she cared about was Art. She didn’t even glance in Patrick’s direction.

Fuck tennis. Only Art mattered in this scenario. She’s blonde. His girlfriend is blonde and looks younger than them, which is a bit embarrassing for him, right? Couldn’t he find someone his own age? Someone who knows who the President of the United States is and maybe even all the continents and the multiplication table. Someone who has seen a thing or two in life. Someone who can respond to him and match him. Art lost the fucking set. His body language was off. Everything was messed up. Liana had seen Art lose before; she hadn’t yet seen him lose to Patrick. She hoped today wouldn’t be the first time.

“Shout that you love him,” Tashi told her, and Liana made a face in response. “I’m not joking with you. Tell him you love him. Now.” Tashi and Liana barely spoke; they tried to keep their distance from each other but were polite when necessary for Art. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Liana rolled her eyes. “Do you want him to lose because of you?” she asked in response, and Liana chuckled. “What do I have to do with it exactly?” “You can’t stop staring at your ex’s new girlfriend who is currently beating Art. So tell him you love him or get out of here because you’re disturbing.” It felt like if Tashi could, she would burn Liana alive. “You got this, baby, I believe in you,” she said loudly enough for Art to hear, making him nod and smile a little. Patrick heard too. He was less thrilled by Liana’s gesture.

When Patrick won, his familiar smirk spread across his face, and he looked directly at Liana for a second. Right after that, he bowed towards his girlfriend, and Liana found herself rolling her eyes. Art was interviewed first and had to compliment Patrick, giving a backhanded compliment that only those who knew them understood, praising him for his "long journey" and saying things like "it's not taken for granted that Patrick reached this stage and won," and in the end, that he was "happy for him." Patrick said in his interview that he was happy to be here and hoped that everyone who didn’t believe in him now knew that when he wanted, he could win. He thanked his family "and the love of his life," which was a bit over the top if you asked Liana, because she had no idea what the girl who looked at him with hearts in her eyes was even called, but whatever. Both were asked if they were still friends since they competed together as kids, everything was awful, and Liana felt like she was going to vomit.

When the interviews finally ended, Liana could go to the locker room and look for Art. Wondering what state she would find him in. He was dressed after a shower and looked at her with a frozen expression. As if the world had collapsed on him. “Let’s go,” he mumbled, and she nodded, glad to get out of there. Hating to see him so broken. On the way out of the locker room, Patrick and his family stopped in front of them. Liana wondered if God hated her. What did she do, and who did she hurt so much for this interaction. “Liana, honey, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you. How are you?” His mother was polite. “Art, I won’t even talk about you.” She added with humor that none of them knew she had. They were in a good mood because their son finally proved he was a winner. That the investment in him was worthwhile. Finally earned a significant amount of money. Finally worthy of his family name.

"I’m Casey," the girl with the gum and blonde hair suddenly said. How old is she anyway? "Art," he introduced himself because Liana was in shock. Both boys looked at her, almost waiting for her reaction. "We were on our way out," she muttered, trying to keep a smile. None of them knew this impolite side of Liana. She looked at the girl in front of her as if she were dirt that needed cleaning. "Can I steal her?" Patrick addressed Art, and everyone looked at him, unable to ignore his choice of words, "for a moment. Just a few words." He added, not removing the smile as he saw the color leave Art’s face. "I’m not her owner, Patrick. I’ll wait for you in the car." He nodded towards Liana and said a quick "bye" to Patrick’s parents. "I’ll be right there, love. You guys can wait for me at the exit." Patrick turned to the blonde next to him. What did she say her name was?

Liana stood facing him in the locker room he closed, and Patrick felt on top of the world. "Hey," he said. "What do you think you’re doing?" she asked as he sat on the bench in front of her. "Winning, obviously," he answered. "Well done, Patrick. You remembered you’re capable of not being the loser you were for four years? I’m happy for you. What do you want?" she asked, venom dripping from her. "Why are you so angry, Lilo? What did I do this time? You haven’t seen me in a year. The ring on your finger is impressive. Everything’s good. Just tell me you’re proud of me, and we can each go to our homes and our beds where I’ll have amazing sex, and you’ll have whatever it is you're having with him." She looked at him in disgust. "Do you ever control what comes out of your mouth? People your age are supposed to develop a filter. How old is Barbie outside?" She couldn’t help herself and saw his smile widen. "Is she legal?" she added, ignoring his smugness. "She’s a year younger than you; she just looks a lot younger." He said, trying to hurt her a little. "Wow, Patrick. You’ll never change, huh?" she chuckled in despair.

"When did you get engaged?" he suddenly asked, glancing again at the giant diamond on her finger. He always thought Liana would want something more modest. He thought he knew her that well. "Two months ago." She didn’t know why she answered him. "Congratulations," he said. There was nothing sincere about it. "You see, that’s what you say when someone wins or shares good news. You say congratulations. I won today. Can you be the polite girl you know how to be and say congratulations?" She didn’t know how it happened, but he was in front of her. In her personal space. Almost demanding her attention. Almost demanding the attention she had denied him for a year and a half. "Do you think winning in tennis makes you the person I hoped you would be?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. The disgusted look didn’t leave her. From the distance between them, she could smell his breath, a mix of mint and banana. He nodded in response to her question.

"Patrick, do you even know me? Like…at all?" She said. And Patrick knows her. He knows her so well. Maybe only he knows how well he knows her. He knows her favorite song. What subject was hardest for her in her degree. Who her best friends are. What part of her body she hates the most. How many freckles she has. Which side of the bed she likes to sleep on. Who her role model is. What her favorite position is. What her favorite shampoo is. What perfume she uses. He knows her biggest fear and what makes her angry. He knows how jealous she is, and he knows she’ll compare herself to Casey (the bland girl he found on an app and will probably break up with in a week) for months to come. And he knows she still thinks about him. He sees it in her.

"Don’t you think you deserve more?" he suddenly asked, his hand brushing her cheek. "Don’t do that," she muttered, unable to stay focused. "Don’t do what? Remind you that you love me?" he asked, seeing her take a deep breath. Seeing all the emotions she tried to hide. "I love Art. Don’t ruin it." She said, and he nodded. "Okay." He chuckled, half at her, half at himself. He took a few steps back. "You look really good, Lilo. I hope he tells you that a lot," he said, bringing back the smirk to his face and making her roll her eyes. "He tells me that a lot, Patrick." "Good," he replied. "Good." And with that, she left the room, leaving him alone with his emptiness. She didn’t say she was proud of him for winning. So maybe, after all, he didn’t win.

Art gripped the steering wheel as if it were his lifeline. “You’re back,” he said as she sat next to him. “You sound surprised,” she muttered, examining him. He didn’t look at her. He hated how she made him feel right now. Almost half an hour he waited for her in the car while she and Patrick did who knows what. He started driving, seeing out of the corner of his eye that she was playing with the ring he gave her. He felt like he had lost her. Like Patrick beat him in tennis and the ultimate prize was Liana. As if the past year and a half hadn’t happened. “I’m going to Tashi’s room to review the video,” he said, refusing to look at her and leaving the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

“I don’t want any more competitions against him,” he told Tashi the second he entered her room. The video didn’t interest him at all. He didn’t want to lose to Patrick Zweig again, and he knew that no matter how many times he played against him, he would lose. “I don’t control who you face in the finals, Art. Patrick is a good player. You need to be better. That’s all,” she answered him with half indifference, trying to understand what he was doing in her room instead of spending the rest of the day with Liana. “He’s got nerve. dickhead,” Art muttered, completely frustrated by the day. “It was humiliating, Tashi. I’m not willing to be humiliated again by Patrick Zweig.” He looked at her, playing with his fingers. “Why are you here, Art?” she asked. “I can’t look at her,” he admitted, causing Tashi to raise an eyebrow. “I can’t look at her, so I need to calm down before I go back to the room,” he explained. “Why are you angry with her?” she asked, not understanding how this day went so sideways from their routine. “She’s going to leave me,” he said quietly, afraid to admit it out loud. “Art, give Liana some credit. Don’t waste your time here. Go fix it.” She opened the door for him, no longer accepting his presence there.

Liana was fiddling with her laptop after a shower when he returned. In an instant, she looked up at him, removed her glasses, and closed the computer. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but I love you,” she said in the most steady voice she could muster. “You went with him today. You were eaten up with jealousy and went with him. You just let me go to the car.” He tried to temper his anger, speaking in a calm voice despite his body burning inside. “I wasn’t eaten up with jealousy,” she rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Look at me and tell me you don’t care about his dumb girlfriend. Look at me and tell me you didn’t feel relieved when he asked to ‘steal you.’ Who even talks like that except that idiot?!” His anger was much more evident now, unable to control himself.

“I was with Patrick for four years of my life,” she said, swallowing hard. “And when does that stop being an excuse?” he retorted, ready to fight a battle he didn’t know he needed to wage. “It’s not an excuse, Art. He was a part of my life, and you’re supposed to know that. I thought you understood that,” she sighed. “What did he want?” he asked. “Sorry?” “After the game, what did he want? He held you for half an hour. What did he have to say?” His gaze was murderous, if not directed at her. “Why are you fighting with me now?” she asked, exasperated. “It’s not my fault you lost. That’s not on me,” she said, and he raised an eyebrow and scoffed in defeat.

“I’m going to sleep, Liana. I can’t do this right now,” he said. “Do what, Art?! What do you want? Why are you so angry?!” she raised her voice. She felt Art withdrawing into himself, consumed by his anxieties and scenarios he created without reason. He was silent, moving to his side of the bed, stripping off his pants and shirt, ignoring her question entirely. “We’re getting married in three months, Arthur. I’m not going to let this slide and let you punish me for something you made up,” she said, and he looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her leg was twitching. He’s marrying her in three months. She said they’re getting married. She’s not calling off the wedding. She’s not going back to Patrick. She’s still with him.

“Do you love him?” he asked, his voice weak and almost broken. He felt his eyes welling up with tears, not understanding why he was reacting this way. He felt stupid and pathetic as Liana knelt in front of him, trying to catch his gaze. He refused to look at her. “I love you,” she said confidently. “You don’t want to be with him? I won’t hate you for it. I just need to know before the wedding. I need to know you won’t leave me on our wedding day. That you won’t go to him the second he asks.” He admitted all the feelings weighing on him. “Art, look at me,” she demanded, gently brushing her hand against his cheek, making him lean into her touch and automatically place his hand over hers. “I want to be with him as much as I want to have a heart attack,” she said, making him chuckle.

"Okay," he said. "He just likes to mess with our heads. We're better than that, baby. You're better than that. You're stronger than that." She stood up and sat on his lap, stroking his face with one hand and his short hair with the other. "It's you and me against the world," she added, and he nodded. "I lost to Patrick." He looked so miserable as he gazed at her with red eyes.

"Yeah? Can Patrick do this?" She placed Art's hand on her left breast, letting him play with it through her shirt. She felt his fingers gently pinching her nipple. "Can Patrick hold me while I do this?" She started moving back and forth on his lap, feeling him harden beneath her and close his eyes. She began kissing his face, his cheek, and then the other. She kept moving, hearing his little moans underneath her. "I'm yours, Art. I'm yours forever." His moan was the loudest yet, and he pulled her into a hungry kiss. "And after we get married," her hand was on his cock, feeling the pre-cum as she moved it the way he liked, "I'll give you as many kids as you want. I'll make you a daddy," she smiled, feeling him respond to her words, almost thrusting into her hand. "Is that what you want? To be a daddy?" she asked, and he nodded. "I'll make it happen, daddy. You and me. Fuck, Art," she said as she felt his warmth on her hand as he came. "Take it. Be a good girl and take it all," he said, and she got down on all fours, starting to clean him with her tongue, taking her fingers that had been on him as he came into her mouth as well.

"Will you really make me a dad?" he asked after they had cleaned up and she was lying on his chest in bed. "Do you want that? Kids, I mean..." she lifted her head to him, and he nodded. "Yeah, it could be nice. A mini-you running around our house making a mess." He smiled at the thought of it. "Or a mini-Art, running around with a racket and stealing other people’s gifts," she retorted sarcastically. "I want everything you're willing to give me, Lia." He looked at her with the utmost seriousness after a day that had beaten him and battered him from all sides. "I love you, Art Donaldson. Please don't doubt that again. Not like that, okay?" she said, and he nodded, feeling he was about to fall asleep.

Liana couldn’t fall asleep, and if she thought about it deeply (which she tried not to and failed), she also hadn't answered Art when he asked if she loved Patrick.

Hey :) How are we feeling? Do we love it? Do we hate it? What the actual fuck is Patrick doing?!?!?! Talk to me, let me know what you're thinking.  BTW- I love writing the blurbs, so if there's anything you want to know about our fav trio, just ask for it and I'll write it from time to time. 

taglist (if anyone wants to join, just ask): @suzysface tqd4455 @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[remuswriting]

READING THIRST TWEETS; MSBY BLACK JACKAL

Atsumu, Bokuto, Hinata, and Sakusa are invited to Buzzfeed to read thirst tweets, and they recognize a certain user. (plus the aftermath)

TAGS: Thirst Tweets (sexual); Not Beta-read; OOC probably; Male! Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,247 words

NOTES: This a part two to this post. This part is a mixture of writing and smau. I will say there is slight Atsuhina in this, but it's Atsumu pining essentially.

Translation for something Hinata says "Desde o primeiro momento que te vi, não consigo parar de pensar em você." From the moment I saw you, I can’t stop thinking of you. (I got this from a website, so please tell me if this is incorrect)

If Atsumu is going to be completely honest, he’s excited to read these thirst tweets.  He knows some people (Sakusa) find that weird, but he finds thirst tweets to be more funny than anything else.  Sometimes, the more deranged the better.  He and Osamu read thirst tweets while drunk at Onigiri Miya, so it’s not like he’s going to be wide eyed and stuttering about them today.  That’s probably why Kousaka, MSBY Black Jackal’s PR manager, put him in this; Buzzfeed Thirst Tweets.

“Have any of you watched these before?” Kousaka asks as people put light makeup on Atsumu.

“I have!” Shoyo says with a bright smile. “Kenma and I watched some after hearing about this.”

“Sakusa-san?” Kousaka asks, and Sakusa slowly nods.

“Yeah.  I’ve seen clips on TikTok,” Sakusa says, which it’s news to Atsumu that Sakusa even has TikTok.

“I’m not even going to ask you, Atsumu-san,” Kousaka says, not even looking at him. “Bokuto-san?”

“Nope!” Bokuto says, and his smile is just as vibrant as always, just like his volume being just a little too loud. “I know what thirst tweets are, though.”

Kousaka nods. “Alright, good.” He reaches over and picks up a bucket off of a stool. “This bucket has all the thirst tweets.  You’ll all take turns reading them, which means you may not read ones for yourself.” He hands it to Sakusa, who places it to be on the edge of his knee. “Do not start until after they’ve started filming and you’ve introduced yourselves.”

“Got it, Kousaka-san!” Shoyo says, and Kousaka smiles a little before taking a deep breath and gently releasing it.

“Let’s hope this goes well.”

Only 10 minutes later, everyone is situated and ready for filming.  Atsumu loves PR, which Kousaka knows and drags him around just about everywhere.  He’s not great with people, but he can be charming enough that it works out for him.  Kousaka doesn’t understand it, but he uses it whenever they need some PR.

“Behave,” Kousaka says, and then they’re filming.

“Hello, I’m Miya Atsumu.  Setter for MSBY Black Jackal,” Atsumu says with a smirk, and he’s not sure if he’s supposed to introduce himself like that.  It seems like a fun way, though.

“I’m Bokuto Koutaro! Wing spiker for MSBY Black Jackal!” Bokuto says, a little too loudly from excitement.  Kousaka puts a finger to his lips behind the camera to remind Bokuto to calm down a little.

“I’m Sakusa Kiyoomi.  Wing spiker for MSBY Black Jackal,” Sakusa says in a monotone voice.  He’s said he doesn’t want to be there, but Atsumu knows that Kousaka doesn’t force people to do things they don’t want to.  If Sakusa told him no, he wouldn’t be here.

“And I’m Hinata Shoyo!  Wing spiker for the MSBY Black Jackal!” Shoyo says with a bright smile.  He’s also someone Kousaka drags around for PR since he actually is good with people.  Atsumu is also always better when Shoyo is there as well. “And we’re here at BuzzFeed to read your thirst tweets!”

“Do you ever see thirst tweets online?” someone behind the camera asks.  Kousaka covers his face with a hand, which makes Atsumu and Shoyo laugh a little.

“Course,” Atsumu says, laughter still in his voice a little. “It’s what happens when you’re this attractive.”

“More like what happens when you look up your name to see if anyone is talking about you,” Sakusa says, and Atsumu rolls his eyes.  Sure, that’s exactly what he does, but he’s not going to admit to that.

“Do not.”

Sakusa narrows his eyes at him, and he’s not wearing a mask, making it easy to see his frown.  He’s just about always frowning, so Atsumu doesn’t take it to heart. “Then show us the last thing you looked up on Twitter then.”

Atsumu’s eyes go wide. “I don’t have to do that.”

“So you’re admitting you do it?” Sakusa asks, and he sounds so smug.

Atsumu opens his mouth, but Shoyo grabs the bucket from Sakusa’s knee and pulls a piece of paper out. “Please @bokutomsby I am but a hole for your using.”

“A hole?” Bokuto asks, processing what he just heard.  His eyes widen. “Oh! Thank you, but that doesn’t sound very enjoyable.”

 Atsumu rolls his eyes as he chuckles a little.

“How many tweets do you think will mention them being a hole?” Shoyo asks casually before looking up at Kousaka. “Where do I put this paper?” Someone quickly puts a trash can near them. “Thank you.”

“Too many,” Sakusa says.  He leans away from Shoyo—away from the bucket more like it.  If he’s acting like that now, then how will he act when the tweets start actually getting dirty?

“My turn,” Bokuto says, and Shoyo hands him the bucket.  Bokuto pulls a piece of paper out. “User sakukiyo says: I’d let Sakusa Kiyoomi fuck me on every surface possible and spit in my mouth if it meant I got to see those thighs up close and personal just so I could thank him.”

Sakusa cringes. “No thank you.  I think I’ll pass.”

“Sakusa-san,” Kousaka says, and Sakusa rolls his eyes.  Atsumu has seen this interaction a hundred times before.  Kousaka gets onto Sakusa and then Sakusa stops being such a stick in the mud. “Also, Bokuto-san, you don’t need to read out the username.”

“Oh, sorry,” Bokuto says, looking a little guilty, but a simple smile from Kousaka erases the expression.

“I want to read another,” Shoyo says, and Bokuto hands over the container to him. “Miya Atsumu needs to rail me disrespectfully. Please, I know how to beg,” Shoyo reads out, but it doesn’t sound like he’s just reading it.  It sounds like he’s saying it with his own words.  Atsumu’s heart is in his throat.  He cannot get horny during an interview.  Kousaka will murder him.

“Good thing I know how to be disrespectful,” Atsumu says, trying to sound seductive.  Shoyo laughs beside him. “Hope all of these are that good.”

“Well dailyln only gives the best thirst tweets,” Shoyo says, and Atsumu wonders if they’re going to bleep out the username.  A lot of Y/N’s followers will already know which tweets are his, even though Atsumu doesn’t.  He’s seen the tweets, but he doesn’t remember who tweets what. “I wonder how many of his tweets will be in here.”

“Hopefully only one,” Sakusa says. “Atsumu’s already cocky enough.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes as he takes the bucket from Shoyo. “I want Hinata Shoyo to smash my skull between his thighs like a watermelon,” Atsumu reads.  All of them look at Shoyo’s thighs.

Shoyo flexes his thighs, and Atsumu has to remind himself that he’s not allowed to get horny in an interview. “I don’t know if my thighs are that strong,” Shoyo says, and he tilts his head. “I’ve never even tried to smash a watermelon before.”

“You should try!” Bokuto says, and Atsumu can’t wait to hear the end of this. “Last New Year’s I did it because Akaashi dared me.”

Atsumu doesn’t know Akaashi super well.  Osamu knows Akaashi far better than he does, but Atsumu knows Akaashi is just a little weird.  Bokuto either doesn’t know it or ignores it.  What Atsumu is getting at is that it’s so believable that happened.

“Did you take videos or pictures?” Shoyo asks, looking at Bokuto with wide eyes over Atsumu’s shoulder.

“Yeah!  I’ll have to show you them later!”

“Boys,” Kousaka says.  He always has to remind them to stay on task when Bokuto comes along.  Atsumu looks at Sakusa, who grumbles slightly as he takes the container and gets a piece of paper out.

“I never know what Hinata Shoyo is saying when he speaks Portuguese, but fuck does he sound good,” Sakusa reads off, not sounding entirely monotone but not putting his all into it.  Atsumu feels like he could’ve ghost written that.

Shoyo grins at the camera, but it’s a little feral.  It’s one of Atsumu’s favorite smiles on Shoyo.  It’s the one he has after a really good spike. “Really?” Shoyo asks, and Atsumu knows he’s about to be fucked. “Desde o primeiro momento que te vi, não consigo parar de pensar em você.”

Shoyo’s voice deepens slightly when speaking Portuguese, and Atsumu grips the side of his chair.  He’s so gay.  Fuck.  He is so gay.  Gay panicking in public should be something he’s used to by now, but he’s not God’s strongest soldier.

“That one was also Y/N,” Sakusa says as he leans over to throw the piece of paper away. “Just in case you wanted to know.”

Sakusa leans over Shoyo to hand Atsumu the bucket to hand to Bokuto.  Shoyo leans back a little, and it’s a simple exchange.  Bokuto takes the bucket from Atsumu with a smile as he pulls out a piece of paper. “Oh, to taste tsumu’s thighs as they’re wrapped around my head like earmuffs. Finally, some good fucking food,” Bokuto reads, and Atsumu’s thirst tweets seem to rival Sakusa’s in being slightly cruder.

“Glad I’m being appreciated for the meal I am,” Atsumu says with a grin, and he’s trying to ignore the way Shoyo is staring at him.  It’s his hungry stare, and Atsumu can only handle so much before he has a gay breakdown.

“I feel so bad for those who have terrible taste,” Sakusa says with a soft sigh, as if to make it more sympathetic. “Hopefully, their taste buds are fixed soon.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Atsumu says, but there’s no real bite in it.  Honestly, he finds it a little funny with how Sakusa said it.  He should be upset, but part of him can’t be from the comedy of it.

Sakusa simply rolls his eyes before extending a hand for them to give him the bucket.  He’s quick with pulling out the paper.  Atsumu only saw two left when he briefly looked as he passed it on.

“My ideal weight is Bokuto on top of me,” Sakusa reads out, and he looks over at Bokuto, who is laughing.

“If I lay on you, then I may crush you,” Bokuto says, which Atsumu can believe.  Bokuto is mainly made of muscle and weighs the most out of the four of them.  He’s just built thick.

“I think that’s what they want Bokuto-san,” Shoyo says, and Bokuto nods.

“Then I guess I should lay on them, shouldn’t I?” he asks, and Atsumu watches Kousaka close his eyes and let out a deep breath.  He should’ve expected this when he brought Bokuto to this.

“I think they’d love that,” Shoyo says, and Bokuto grins.  Shoyo turns to Atsumu. “Atsumu-san gets to read the last one!”

Atsumu takes the bucket when it’s passed to him.  He hopes it’s something filthy.  That’s probably a strange want, but he’s having a little fun.  He’s having gay panic, but also having fun.

“I need to see what Sakusa Kiyoomi’s wrists are capable of. Please I’ll be so good, just give me a chance,” Atsumu reads aloud, and Sakusa rolls his eyes.

“What are your wrists capable of, Omi-san?” Shoyo asks, and some would think he’d ask it innocently, but he doesn’t.  Atsumu hears the plotting in it.  Sakusa and Shoyo share a look before Sakusa is bending his wrists to where his fingers comfortably press against the skin of his wrist.

“I guess they’re capable of this,” Sakusa says, and it always amazed Atsumu that Sakusa’s wrists are that flexible.  He’s watched him stretch them every day at practice, but still.  It’s unnatural.

Shoyo turns to the crew. “Isn’t there another one?” he asks with excitement. “One that’s just awful?  You gave one to Dylan O’Brien.”

Apparently, Shoyo hadn’t been lying when he said he watched some of these with Kenma.

Kousaka shakes his head a little. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Hinata-san.”

Shoyo pouts. “Please,” he says, dragging out the word. “If it’s too bad, I won’t read it aloud.”

Kousaka nods, and someone gives Shoyo a piece of paper.  He holds it close to himself so Atsumu can’t read it.  His concentrated expression melts, and he’s laughing.  He’s full on cackling, and none of them know why.

“Definitely can’t read that one aloud,” he says as he crumbles it and throws it in the trash. “But it was good.”

They say their goodbyes and are back in the car.  Curiosity keeps eating at Atsumu over what the last one was that made Shoyo laugh like that.  He’s not sure he’s ever seen him laugh like that before.

“What was so funny about the last tweet?” Bokuto asks for Atsumu.

Shoyo looks up from his phone at Bokuto. “I don’t know if I’d say it was funny.  It was more like laughing was the only way to respond to it,” Shoyo says with a shrug. “But it was basically about an orgy between that person and us.”

If Atsumu had been drinking something, he would’ve spit it out all over Sakusa’s face. “They included something like that?” Atsumu asks, bewildered.

“Well, I had to ask for it, so it wasn’t really included,” Shoyo says with a small laugh. “It was detailed, though.  I didn’t know someone would think that hard about something like that.”

Atsumu nods, trying to get his mind around someone tweeting that.  The tweets they read aloud weren’t terrible, but that one is something else.  Eventually they’re talking about the upcoming game against the EJP Raijin.  Everyone has people they want to beat, and Atsumu is ready to take down Suna.  He imagines Suna is thinking the same thing about him (hopefully).

[ylangelegy]

these cunning folk ♾️ minghao hogwarts au.

“perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends! those cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends.” # day three of (the)8 days of minghao.

slytherin!minghao comes as a surprise to everybody. not only is it a rarity for muggle-borns to be sorted in to the house, but he just— doesn't look like the type, if anything. not at first. you'd think this boy would belong somewhere in ravenclaw; maybe gryffindor, even. but slytherin? what an odd one, some of the older kids think.

slytherin!minghao actually gets considered for ravenclaw. the sorting hat spends a good couple of moments, only to finally come to a decision because of a thought that flits through minghao's mind. while seated for his sorting, the eleven-year-old minghao screams in his head, please, let me prove myself.

slytherin!minghao isn't surprised when the hat gives him slytherin. his steps are certain as he walks up to the table clad in green and silver. immediately, a handful of his housemates recognize a familiar spark. ah, they think amusedly. this should be fun.

slytherin!minghao soaks up everything that hogwarts has to offer. he's not about to take any of this for granted. he's teased for it, called a nerd and bookworm and know-it-all. that doesn't matter. not when minghao learns to mumble hexes that are two years advance his supposed skill set.

slytherin!minghao becomes a force to be reckoned with. people learn not to mess with him. he's sharp— in the intelligent sort of way, yes, but in the way that's wounding as well. his words cut. his gaze pierces. at this point, nobody doubts that xu minghao belongs in slytherin.

slytherin!minghao has to fight for every scrap of status that comes his way. it doesn't matter if he's the epitome of a slytherin student; blood prejudice is still very much alive in hogwarts, even after the war. he is a muggle-born in a snake's din full of purebloods. they do not let him forget that.

slytherin!minghao keeps to himself in his first two years. he's not unfriendly but he's not warm, either. he's wise beyond his years. he could do a little better in potions, though that's neither here nor there. as he watches his peers go on to join the qudditich team, to soar academically, he only feels that itch to do more, more, more.

slytherin!minghao is asked, one day, "isn't it lonely at the top?" he jolts at the suddenness of the accusation. he has half the mind to jinx this meddling hufflepuff— jun, his name might've been?— but the latter remains undeterred. "you need some friends," jun presses. "c'mon."

slytherin!minghao almost says that he has friends, thank you very much. his housemate, jeonghan, has already taken him under his wing. that was more than enough. but jun is adamant, and jun is pushy, and minghao doesn't want to get in to trouble for doling out too many curses in one go.

slytherin!minghao is introduced to jun's housemate. "this is the guy i was telling you about," jun tells mingyu and seokmin conspiratorially. mingyu lets out a small 'ahhh'. seokmin sits up a little straighter in his chair. minghao, for his part, is horrified. "what have you said about me?" he demands to jun.

slytherin!minghao can't decide between a blush or a glower when jun casually says, "oh, i've been telling them about how smart you are." for a moment, minghao waits to see if jun is messing with him. the hufflepuff boy doesn't buck. minghao is forced to accept it as a truth, as a new reality. he had friends now, it seemed.

slytherin!minghao readily tutors seokmin when he asks for help in defense against the dark arts. minghao reluctantly cheers on mingyu during quidditch games. minghao bickers with jun more often than not, the two often going back and forth about arguments centering the muggle part of their lives.

slytherin!minghao manages to convince himself that he's just doing all this out of politeness up until he catches one of his housemates messing with jun. choice words are exchanged. a long-forgotten slur is thrown. minghao sees red.

slytherin!minghao has never landed himself in detention before, has never done anything that would lose his house points. but now he's scrubbing trophies and bearing the shame that he's set slytherin back by twenty points.

slytherin!minghao is called a traitor, is called the very name that had him hexing his own housemates in the first place. he doesn't mind them. he keeps his head high despite the whispers and the glares. he only snaps when some idiot tries to drag in seokmin and mingyu's names in to the mix— leaving minghao with another week's worth of detention.

slytherin!minghao has nothing to say when his hufflepuff friends corner him. "enough," seokmin reprimands gently, his hands on minghao's shoulders. "you don't have to fight for us, hao." hao. it's a nickname that only seokmin can get away with. anyone else gets a dirty look.

slytherin!minghao sighs, then, because seokmin is right, and jun is standing some paces away with his arms over his chest, and mingyu is absentmindedly playing with a quaffle, as if to keep his busy. and then, mingyu— the world's most unberable thirteen-year-old, sometimes— starts to laugh.

slytherin!minghao is baffled because jun is laughing now, too, and seokmin looks exasperated. "what?" minghao demands; there's nothing more he hates than being on the outside of an inside joke. "it's just—" mingyu tries to say in between laughter. he fails miserably. jun supplies, "ready to call us your friends, now, hao-hao?"

slytherin!minghao threatens up and down to give jun and mingyu a piece of his mind. seokmin tries to appease him, though the third hufflepuff boy also has the ghost of a smile on his face. by the end of it, seokmin is chuckling a bit, too. minghao wants to jinx them all in to the next century. (if you squinted, you might see the slightest upward turn of his lip.)

slytherin!minghao is undeniably brilliant, still, despite the cowards who spread rumors and the housemates who turn their noses up at him. he tops his classes. he's nice to first-years. he secures the most O.W.Ls in his fifth year, then takes an absurd amount of N.E.W.T-level classes just for the sake of it.

slytherin!minghao is an outcast in his own house, though. those his age don't respect him. the younger ones are scared of him. he doesn't have as much house pride as one might expect from a slytherin, which is ironic for a boy who could've easily been the image of the house.

slytherin!minghao is a bit of an odd-one-out in the group wearing black and yellow scarves. he's often made the butt of the joke; jun, mingyu, and seokmin being the only ones brave enough to poke and prod the bear. one christmas, they chip in to get him a hufflepuff jumper. he turns their hair green in retaliation.

slytherin!minghao learns that proving himself doesn't always mean being in good graces with the affluent and the powerful. sometimes, proving himself is as simple as letting seokmin drag him quill-shopping in hogsmeade. sometimes, proving himself entails matching mingyu butterbeer for butterbeer. and, sometimes, proving himself comes in the shape of begrudgingly admitting that jun had been right to tease him way back when.

slytherin!minghao had needed some friends, and he got them.