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

[whenthegoldrays]

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

[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

[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

[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.

[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˚

[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?

[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

[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).

[kokoa-la]

Paper Clips Make Good Lock Picks- part two

Part 1

"Still going to ignore me?"

...

"Okay okay you got me. Let's get out of here first. We have an hour and a half before another teacher comes in and watches us for the last 15 minutes."

"What's your name?"

Oh, Danny forgot to introduce himself huh? 

"Danny."

"No last name?" 

"You haven't made it far on the friends list"

"Wow friends already? We just met"

"You're breaking out of detention with me. You picked a lock for me, that's called being friends."

"Do you make all your friends by committing crimes together?"

"Only the best ones"

Danny smiled before walking out and checking the hallway side to side. All clear. 

He waved Tim over and out of the classroom. 

"You know this whole hallway is under watch right? There's cameras here." 

"They don't work."

"What?" 

Danny laughed a little before signaling Tim to follow after him against the wall. 

"You didn't know? After school hours certain cameras shut down. In fact, a lot of them are broken and they never paid to get them repaired. That's why they accept bribes. They lie about having proof of crimes, works every time."

"What are you talking about?"

Danny groaned. Of course Tim didn't know about this, he was one of the rich kids they'd exploit. Danny as well as the other kids who were here off of scholarships or special deals knew about the tactic and had ways to avoid it, but rich kids like Tim didn't need to avoid it. The halfa cursed at the unfairness of life. 

"Of course you don't know. The teachers here scam the rich kids. They accuse them of crimes they didn't commit and because their parents never care for proof, only reputation, they bribe them right away without even asking for the evidence. It's happened so many times and it's why when actual problems happen it's swept up under the rug."

"Are you serious?"

"Uh yeah dude. Usually kids like me try their best to avoid it. Meaning don't fight back, don't stay after school, don't go to the bathroom for anything other than an emergency, and don't talk back to any teachers at all. Those are the basics when you're not as rich as everyone else."

"So that's why you're so adamant on being framed, but couldn't you just ask them for proof it was you?"

"Not that easy. I don't have a guardian, I'm a 'charity case' as they say it."

He practically spit out that last part. Utter disgust in his tone. 

"No parents, no money, no dice. If I don't find proof myself and publicize it or threaten em with it, I'm stuck for a year. I have things to do you know"

"Like blowing up chemistry labs?"

Tim teased. Danny gave him a look over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. You're so funny Tim! I wonder if Andys laughing in the hospital."

"He deserved it."

"And I'm innocent."

The two just stared at each other before Danny laughed and turned back around, continuing his walk. Tim chalked up the whole conversation as something to investigate later at home. His new "friend" was turning out to be a lot more interesting than he let on. 

"So this is you searching for clues? Have you gotten anything since you started"

"Well as I was saying earlier all the cameras in the hallway leading to the lab don't work at certain times, and the ones that were IN the lab are completely unsalvageable. And at the time of the explosion the usual delinquent students - Anderson included - were out of class."

"So they're the prime suspect, no chance of it being anyone else?" 

"Not many motives. If someone was using it for an outside project they didn't have permission, and other than that it's just the love of destroying and messing around."

Danny had led them through the school, taking twists and turns Tim couldn't recognize, eventually they had stopped at a roadblock. The hallway ended where a giant white tarp lay hanging from the ceiling. Caution tape was draped from each side to the other. 

"Where are we?" 

"The scene of the crime." 

Danny smiled before walking towards the plastic covering and picking it up from the ground and waving Tim over. Tim sighed before looking around and following after him, shaking his head on the way over. 

"Don't act all disappointed in me, you're literally following me"

"I may have just met you today but I'm convinced that it I left you alone you'd somehow either die or blow something up"

Oh how Tim didn't know the truth to that statement. Danny gasped and placed his hand over his chest all dramatically, taking false offense. 

"I'll have you know death cannot take me! It has tried and failed. Plus, we've been over this, I'm innocent!"

Tim didn't even want to unpack the first part of that. Logically it could be an exaggeration, but something about it felt a little too real to his senses. 

"Whatever, you felon."

"Delinquent."

"Fair, now let's get going" 

The roles had reversed as Tim took the lead instead. Danny let him despite having been here multiple times over the last few weeks. Maybe Tim would see something he couldn't. 

“So what are you hoping to find?”

“Proof of my innocence, or proof of their crimes.”

“Isn’t finding their crimes easier? Considering a lot of people already know about it.”

“Well yeah, but that’d turn back on me.”

“How so?”

God, Danny wanted to punch him. 

“Because they’d flip it on me and say how did I get the information? They’d accuse me of stealing and breaking and entering. They’d say that a delinquent child like me who hasn’t got good influences in my life would resort to just about anything to get out of punishment-”

“That’s a bit specific, don't cha think?”

“Well I’ve had similar things happen to me before”

Creepy boy with creepy powers rang in his head, he ignored it. 

“Anyways, how am I even going to get that stuff? The principal's office has all of that information and the cameras there are fully functioning and top quality. Plus, how am I supposed to get into their computer? I don’t know the password and I can’t hack shit for the life of me. Programming I can do, but that? Whole new haunt.” 

“Haunt- you know what? I’m not going to question that.”

“Good. We’re running out of time anyways. Choosing all the hallways that don’t have cameras or ones that work took a while. We need to wrap this up in 20 and then go back the way we came.”

Tim nodded and walked a bit faster towards what used to be the chem lab. There was more plastic screening in the way, but it was easily bypassed by the two. 

“There’s no one here.”

“They only do construction on this place during school hours two times a week.”

“Why? That’ll take forever.”

“Exactly.”

Tim’s questions were getting to Danny at this point. While the halfa acted all knowing in the beginning, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s actually clueless beyond what he discovered on his own. He doesn’t know why they’re prolonging the construction, it’s probably another scheme of theirs- or if they’re lucky, an extensive cover up. Danny, in all honesty, just wants to be able to go home to his little trash heap of a living space in Crime Alley and sleep. 

Tim moved forward, being way too careful. Danny knew he was oddly silent, but he could still hear the other, so he didn't question it. Superhuman hearing for the win! 

“Why is the construction flowing this way? The back of the room is close to being done, but the front is still in complete disarray. They shouldn’t be doing parts of the room, but the whole room in steps.”

Yeah, Danny couldn’t answer that one. At this point, he was just assuming that Tim had to verbalize his questions when answering them himself. He didn’t reply, and with the way the other didn’t ask again or even look at him, Danny was right. He was content to just let his detention mate do his thing, lord knows Tim’s smarter than Danny anyways.

Tim stepped forward cautiously. The ground was still slightly unsteady considering only like 15% of the room had the floors replaced. Now that Danny thought about it, that was weird. He may be clueless about anything other than ghosts and space, but even he knew that foundations were placed first. This is a dangerous and even unsafe way to do construction. Why repair one part of the room first and then bleed out? Was something hidden in that area? Plus, there was still debris from the explosion- 

“What do you think they’re hiding?”

“We’re about to find out.”

Wow, Tim was really invested now. Danny would have just gone back by now and visited tomorrow, but Tim is full on interested. 

All that was left to do was follow the rich kid further in the room. 

“Careful some of the paint is wet.”

Danny didn’t even want to ask how the other knew that from this distance. Danny could tell, but again, super human senses, Tim? Fully human. It didn’t really matter that much though, so he just followed him further and stepped around certain tiles. 

Tim started inspecting just about everything. Nothing was safe. Every piece of wood, every corner, every point in which two colors met- the guy even pulled out a leveler. Where did he get that? You know what? Didn’t matter. Danny was giving his best in minding his business. If it got him set free? He’d ask zero questions- consider his curiosity swallowed. 

“Tim, we have to go. We’re almost out of time.”

“Is it just me or is this cement not level, and doesn’t the drywall seem incorrect to you?”

Tim finally turned back to Danny, breaking out of his investigator mode. The halfa sighed before stepping over to where his new friend was, taking a closer look at what Tim was pointing out. He was right. The cement was uneven against the wall. It was strange considering Chemistry labs required tile flooring. The tiles wouldn’t go well if it wasn’t steady. Plus, the walls were supposed to be in levels: cement, then insulation, then final layer (could be anything really). The drywall set up wasn’t screwed in correctly, and Danny was pretty sure he could see the insulation in some parts. Considering special tiles or substances had to be used over the drywall to make the chemistry lab safe and usable, it wasn’t a good base. 

Okay, Danny will admit, maybe he did do a little bit of research into chemistry labs. It was a rabbit hole he couldn’t escape when listening to Mr.Lanch drag on and on about the 5 page essay due in a month. He was bored, sue him. He was used to being attacked by ghosts everyday, this place was tame. Sure, it was exhausting, but it was still interesting. 

“This isn’t right. The concrete has cracks in it.”

“So?”

“The school is supposed to use epoxy for the flooring, but for that to work the cement underneath it has to be perfect. This is far from that.”

“But they’re doing tiles, not resin.”

Tim gave Danny a look, and it honestly made him feel poor. Epoxy flooring was expensive- like really expensive- Danny has never seen it before that’s for sure. 

“Danny, the school has enough funding to make 20 of these labs with the highest grade. Tuition alone is insane amounts, even for the rich. The facilities the place offers should be of the highest quality. Even if the floors have to get replaced every few years, it states on the website that it’s supposed to be epoxy.”

Tim took what seemed to be a thousand photos of the area, getting every little detail. 

“Hmm, sounds like they’re cutting corners to cut costs. Leave it to the corrupt.”

“Alright, I got what we needed, let's head back.”

“Thank the Ancients. We’re gonna need to hurry, you know. We took too much time.”

Danny was quick to retrace the steps he took entering, ensuring no more tracks were left. Tim followed suit, and soon enough they were back into the maze of Hallways. This time with Tim leading the way. How the other knew it already when he’d only been through it once was beyond Danny, but again, he wasn’t gonna question it. 

Questioning others gave them a way to ask you questions in return, and Danny wasn’t too keen on answering anything personal.

.

.

.

“Made it!” 

Danny laughed as he slumped in the first seat, dead tired from the way they ran after seeing the clock. They were 10 minutes away when the clock showed they had 5 minutes until a check in. To say they ran would be an understatement. The way the two of them jumped down those stairs would surely raise many questions if Danny was keen to ask, but hey, maybe Tim was one of those ‘do every hobby known to mankind’ rich kids. 

Well his new friend was fit, at the least. Tim hadn’t even broken a sweat, only slightly breathing a little heavier. Danny wished. As a ghost he didn’t have such things as stamina, there was no out of breath when you don’t breathe. As a human, however, he was stuck with meager capabilities he gathered up from running away from bullies and fighting off ghosts with watchful eyes. Seriously, he needed to do whatever Tim was doing (just cheaper). 

Funnily enough, the second Tim sat down a seat away from him, Mr.Lanch entered the room. 

“I see you two have moved. I hope you didn’t cause any disturbances.”

He said while looking directly at Danny. Danny was sure to keep a tight smile on his face, hiding his clenched fist under the desk next to his thigh. 

“No way, sir. I just needed some help on that essay we have. You know I’m a little-”

“Behind, yes, I’m aware. Don’t distract Mr.Drake, he has well enough to do on his own. Am I clear?”

“Yes, yes. Sorry, won’t happen again.”

“Now apologize to Mr.Wayne for bothering him.”

“He wasn’t a bother.”

Tim interrupted, and Danny swore Tim looked annoyed. How come?

“Excuse me?”

“Danny wasn’t bothering me, Mr.Lanch, I was happy to help.”

There was an attitude in his tone, a bit of sharpness that Danny could pick up. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

“Yes, well, an esteemed individual such as yourself mustn't get too involved with the likes of him.”

Was this guy for real? Not even bothering to hide the blatant discrimination. Danny refrained from rolling his eyes, his fist clenching ever so tighter, making indents in his skin. 

“What may that mean, Mr.Lanch.”

“Mr.Drake, I’m sure you are well aware that people like… him are not the best influence on those such as yourself.”

Danny could feel the rage bubbling under Tim’s skin- being a sort of empath had its perks. 

“People like him? I am unaware as to what exactly you mean by that.”

Yeah, this was going to continue escalating. Danny cleared his throat, making both of them look over at him.

“I’m sorry Tim for bothering you earlier. It won’t happen again, don’t worry.”

“That’s better like it, now, I will return when time is up. Good day.”

And with that, Mr.Lanch left the room, making Danny sigh in relief. He sunk into his seat and rubbed his fingers over the crescents in his palm. 

“Why did you do that?”

“What?”

Tim gave him an annoyed look.

“Apologize.”

“It’s not that important, Tim. It’s easier on me if I just do what he asks. As long as I don’t get punished too badly it’s fine.”

“Didn’t we just return from trying to prove your innocence?”

“That was different from this. A year of detention and being banned from any labs for the rest of highschool is way too drastic to just take it. I have a thing called a job, Tim, I can’t be here when I could be working. Not all of us have people making food for them anytime they want.”

This was ridiculous. Seriously, Danny may care about justice and all that jazz, but he made a promise to- well- Jazz that he’d finish highschool and do it right. He couldn’t start problems when he already barely got in from this alone. Tim would be fine anywhere he went, Danny wouldn’t, and that’s just the truth. He couldn’t punch his way out of this one, and he accepted that the first month in. It really was Casper high part two, but instead of the treatment being because he was the weird kid, it was because he was the poor orphan. Not much better, now, was it.

Tim finally shut his mouth. Danny allowed himself to roll his eyes before putting his head down on the desk. 10 minutes until freedom. 

Day one was finally over. 

_______________________

Imma be real honest I actually hated part 2 which is why I never posted it, but i've been convinced bcs someone asked for the link to it so i avoided tumblr for a week because i thought itd be mean to show activity and ignore them- so i went back edited it and now theres a part 3 and im worried this will become a short story

anyways enjoy!

Koa out <3

[veltana]

Sell my soul - 1

✦ Pairing: Lloyd Hansen/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Lloyd, Omega!Reader, omega auction, slow burn, eventual smut, pet names (sugar plum).

✦ Summary: Lloyd buys you

✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series and the parts will be short, but I hope you like it any way! I started writing this because Lloyd was trying to hijack my brain and take over the Buy my heart series, so he got his own instead, and I'm gonna make him suffer 😈 Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

“This is bullshit,” you mutter as you pull on the sheer dress. It's basically see-through. Why can't you wear regular clothes? Isn't it embarrassing enough that you have to sell yourself, you have to be as close to naked as possible also?

But you do it anyway and don't say anything more. This is really your very last resort. Everything else you've tried so far has been a failure.

Panic starts to rise in your chest. What if he's out there? What if he buys you?

Then you realize that everyone sitting out there is an alpha and he wouldn't be allowed in. It calms your nerves a bit but you still glance around now and then as you wait for your turn. He's found you before. You're not safe anywhere.

“This is bullshit,” Lloyd growls as he adjusts the mask covering his face. He recognizes the scents of at least three alphas, despite being unable to see their faces. The masks aren't hiding shit. He knows they're more for the omegas on stage than for the alphas but so far the entire event has been a disappointment, and he regrets attending.

Instead, he studies the high ceiling and artwork on the walls, only glancing at the omegas appearing, one after another getting bought.

Just as he's about to up and leave the omega on stage catches his attention. Eyes that keep flickering and a stubborn mouth, but otherwise delectable! He raises his paddle before he even knows it. A few people bid too, but Lloyd is determined. His paddle is the last to go up.

The omega's mouth is a thin line. A smile cracks Lloyd's face below the mask as he rises and makes his way out to pick up his newly acquired omega.

“Be nice, be nice, be nice. Be nice to the alpha who bought you. You need his protection.” You remind yourself as you stand outside in your clothes after being shown out by the attendant. There isn't an alpha around and your eyes keep searching. You don't like to be out in the open like this but if you huddle against the wall he's probably going to think you're weird. Or you'd have to explain.

With a roar, a flashy sports car pulls up. The owner steps out and looks at you. He’s tall with neat hair slicked back, a mustache above his smile, eyes sparkling with glee. You look away, he obviously thinks you're a prostitute. It would be great if your fucking alpha could show up.

“Hey, get in!” The man calls. You glance at him before saying, “I'm waiting for someone.” “Yeah, me! Omega, get over here right now or I'll command you.”

You stare at him. He waves a piece of paper. “You're the alpha who bought me?” “Damn straight, sugar plum!” Sugar plum?! Your name is on the paper!

“Actually,” you begin but he interrupts you. “We can talk in the car, come on now!” Displeased, you walk over.

The inside looks barely used but it’s filled with his scent. It’s a delicious perfume that smells like the woods after it's rained, an earthy clean smell with an undertone of burnt sugar that makes you think of creme brulee. Saliva pools in your mouth and you ignore it.

Your new alpha, who still hasn't introduced himself, steps on the gas and the car shoots down the road. “Where are we going?” “To my place, it’s not far!” At the speed he's driving, you're downtown within minutes, too focused on holding on to ask any other questions. He doesn't offer any more answers, either. Soon, you lose track of where you are, finding yourself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Elegant houses and high-rise buildings blend together unnaturally. He parks in an underground garage, and the elevator ascends to the tenth floor. Everything looks new and untouched almost. You've never been in such a place before.

Inside the door, you stop and stare. The apartment you used to live in was a perfectly adequate size, but this is ridiculous. On top of that everything is spotless and sleek. Sure, his scent is present in the apartment, but otherwise it looks like no one lives in it, very similar to the car. Your new alpha seems to be very neat.

You look down at yourself. It's been a while since you had the opportunity to wash your clothes properly. The bag in your hand with your few belongings has seen better days. The alpha struts into the apartment, not noticing you've stopped. You don't have socks on so you don't want to take off your shoes.

Frozen in place you can't decide what to do. Everything is just too much. But you're still at the front door, if you turn around you can run and go back to what you know. It would be easier in a way. He doesn't know you. He has a name but it won't get him anywhere.

Steps coming towards you snap you out of it and you meet the eyes of the alpha. They are calm and blue. The urge to run settles and you notice he has a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“You'll have to borrow some of my stuff until we've washed yours and gotten you more clothes. Bathroom is this way,” he jerks his head and turns around. This time you follow.

The bathroom has everything one could wish for and you look longingly at the tub. How long ago was it that you had a real bath? The alpha puts the bundle down on top of a basket and then shows you where to find towels and what all the different dials in the shower do. You nod, trying to keep up.

Then he turns and heads out but before he shuts the door you blurt out, “Wait! What's your name?”

He turns around and grins at you in a way that is both creepy and at the same time not unpleasant. “It's Lloyd Hansen, sugar plum.”

next

[libraryofgage]

Saw the Barbie movie the other day and Billie Eilish's "What Was I Made For" (click the song title to listen to it lol) hit so fuckin different good lord. Anyway, it's perfect for Steve angst with a dash of platonic Stobin and romantic Steddie fluff so ;)

---

Steve is five when he learns that he was made to keep his parents together. At least, that's why his mother made him.

He learns it one night when his father is staying late at the company (before his mother started accompanying him all the time, leaving an empty house and Steve behind; Steve can confidently say his presence did, in fact, fix their relationship: it gave them something to unite against). His mother is three large glasses of red wine in, draped inelegantly on the couch and slurring her words with a glassy film covering her eyes.

"Steven, you were supposed...supposed to make him stay," she says, her fourth glass of wine dangerously close to spilling across the white rug. "An-and he's still gone! What did we do wrong?"

Despite the use of "we," Steve knows very well (even at the age of five) that his mother means "What did you do wrong?" He doesn't have an answer for her--he never will--and that seems to be just one more thing she holds against him.

Steve is seven when he learns that he was made to keep the family name strong and respected. At least, that's why his father made him.

He learns it when his father brings him to work, his stern expression and tense shoulders telling Steve to behave himself, to be seen and not heard the entire day (he did, and it worked a little too well; after falling asleep on the couch, his father had forgotten him at work, leaving him to spend the night in the locked office). His father is sitting at his desk, expensive pen in hand and phone just hung up after a tense conversation that ended with the most genuine smile Steve has ever seen from him.

"Steven, I hope you've been paying attention today," he says, placing the pen on the desk and fixing him with a suffocating gaze. "You'll be working here one day, and I expect you to make something of yourself when you do. You're to be a model man, someone I can proudly introduce to others."

When his father says proudly, Steve knows he means that he can't do that now because Steve has yet to make something of himself. Steve nods once, says a firm but not too loud, "Yes, sir," and his father goes back to work.

Steve is sixteen when he learns Nancy made him her boyfriend for...for a distraction? Because it's what was expected of her? Because she was curious? At least, that's what Nancy seems to be saying.

Honestly, Steve isn't sure she knows, either. But she definitely knows that he wasn't what she wanted, that he wasn't what she expected, that he couldn't live up to the expectations she had made for him.

Either way, he learned it over the course of their relationship, but it all hit him at the very end, when fights and names (idiot, asshole, and dick, to list a few) compounded into a breakup that left him aching, angry, empty, hurt, and desperate to know what he did wrong.

Maybe then he'd be able to save himself from making the same mistake over and over. Because it must be him, right? It must be something he's doing; if only he could figure out what that is.

Steve is seventeen when he learns that maybe he was made to be a shield. At least, that's how he understands the plan Dustin comes up with wherein he calls Steve their tank.

He learns it when they're huddled together at some point, readying to face demodogs and whatever else the Upside Down has decided to throw at them. Dustin is explaining the plan, his eyes bright as he throws around terms Steve can't recognize. "And Steve is going to be our tank," he says.

"What's a tank?" Steve asks, at least certain they don't mean the military kind of tank.

"Like a meatshield, duh," Mike tells him, the explanation short and quick and then disregarded in favor of the rest of the plan.

Maybe Steve should have felt hurt, but part of him is more excited by the fact that he could do well as a tank, a meatshield. He could, in fact, be made for that role. He's great at taking a punch, great at jumping back to his feet, great at putting himself between the kids and whatever wants to kill them.

The only way he could possibly fail at being a shield is by dying, and he doesn't plan to die just yet.

Steve is eighteen when he wonders if maybe he's made to love. At least, that's a realization he has after befriending Robin, getting tortured together, and learning he doesn't need romance to love someone. It's a realization he throws himself into wholeheartedly one day when he looks at Robin and sees her trying to drink a slushie with a Twizzler.

"I think I love you," he blurts out, unable to hold the words in and feeling bad for it when Robin subsequently chokes on Twizzler and Cherry slush.

She spits out the slushie, tosses her Twizzler into the cup, and spins around to look at Steve. "We've definitely talked about this, dingus," she says, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "You got amnesia or something?"

Steve rolls his eyes and pushes her. "Not like that. I mean, like, a friend. I love you, Robin. You mean a lot to me, and I hope we're still friends when we're 80 so we can make fun of other people in our nursing home."

Robin breaks out into a grin that she quickly suppresses. "Ugh, affection," she sneers, turning her nose up. It lasts all of three seconds before she glances at Steve from the corner of her eye and adds, "I love you, too, dingus."

Steve is nineteen when he decides that he's made for love, to give and receive and bask in its warmth. At least, that's what he decides when he's with Eddie, sprawled across his bed and listening to the mixtape he made for Steve.

They've been dancing around each other for a while up to that point: obnoxiously obvious flirtations, finding any excuse to brush against each other or share space or lean together, creating reasons to hang out with some as simple as "I'm just bored." Steve has been enjoying it; they both seem to understand what's inevitable, and they're just taking their time getting there.

And right now, listening to Eddie sing along to Metallica, Steve thinks that he wants to stop dancing around each other and dance together, instead. So, he turns onto his side, places a hand on Eddie's arm, waits until Eddie is looking at him with a bright smile and curious eyes, and says, "I was made for loving you."

Instead of the joy Steve was expecting, Eddie just looks confused. "How'd you know that was the next song?" he asks.

"What?"

"On the mix tape. I Was Made for Loving You by KISS. That's the next song," Eddie explains.

Steve blinks and frowns. He sits up, throws a leg over Eddie's hips, and settles on top of him. Eddie doesn't look surprised, since it's not the first time Steve has done this. Usually, it just means Steve wants him to pay close attention. "I didn't know it was the next song, Eds."

It takes a few moments for Eddie to fully understand what he means. And Steve gets a front-row seat to the confusion that morphs into understanding that morphs into amazement. "Oh," Eddie breathes, pushing himself up to rest on his elbows. "Could you say it again? I don't think I heard you the first time, Stevie."

Steve snorts but humors Eddie anyway. "I was made for loving you," he says, softer this time and leaning closer.

"Yeah, much clearer that time." Eddie's grin is wide and blinding before he closes the distance between them. "I was made for loving you, too, sweetheart," he whispers back, his words pressed against Steve's lips and searing into his heart.

[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.

[heiznx]

PRINCESS ARRIVAL — I

∗༝*◦✦ it's neige's first time meeting you yet he hopes you would already see him more than just a stranger or an acquaintances.

BEFORE READING, this contains light cursing, slight yandere behavior and all that goes with it.

|| NEXT▶ || ︎ HEADCANONS ||

Neige LeBlanche, you quite dislike him.

On your first arrival to Twisted Wonderland, you knew nothing about him until you went out with some of the Night Raven College and saw it: his face on keychains, stickers on people's tumblers, and his name embroidered on tote bags.

Cater was the first to actually introduce him to you, and he did so by showing you a video that was blocked by an advertisement that featured Neige LeBlanche.

Vil was the second when he spoke of Neige during practice, and Rook described him as someone who has rose-red lips, glossy ebony hair, and an endearing smile that could charm anyone (his words, not yours).

You didn't dislike him because he did anything wrong; you were just biased because it saddened you to know that Vil sees himself as less than who he actually is.

Grim looked at you with a face expressing betrayal after the headmaster informed him that he had to stay in class while you had to fetch example materials from the bookstores near the island—you just couldn't say no.

At the moment, you were looking around, trying to recognize the place you were in and connecting it with the map in your hands; you didn't want to get lost in the unfamiliar world or, worse, taken.

You took many mental notes of your surroundings. You can see a black-haired student walking in front of you, holding hands with what you assumed was a dwarf, and there were many red-roofed stalls.

Your eyes narrowed as you tried to make out what they were selling before you heard someone loudly yelling, "Hey! Watch it!"

Now that made you even more cautious than you were since the sound was too close and it seemed like it was directed at you when it was truly for the student and the dwarf in front of you.

It was fast; you saw the student falling back towards you, and you automatically moved your map to be held by the fingers of your dominant hand before extending your hands forward.

Oh, and that you caught him.

The problem was that you didn't catch him like how the main character gets caught by the love interest; it wasn't the arm around the shoulders—no—you caught him by hooking your arms below his.

You nearly staggered, not taking the weight of the student into account as you did with the entire scenario. Your eyes caught the red text on his sailor hat that was askew and embroidered on it: "Someday My Princess Will Come", and then you noticed him staring at you.

You suddenly thought of Rook's words about how Neige LeBlache had rose-red lips and black hair as ebony; you had no idea why you looked at his parted lips like he was surprised, but it was in your line of sight.

"Neige! Are you okay?" the short gray-haired dwarf asked as you pulled up the student to his feet. "Oh…! Thank you so much!"

"It was just my impulse…" you smiled, albeit nervously. "More importantly, is your friend okay?"

The ebony-haired student hasn't moved ever since he landed in your arms earlier; you can only see his back, and not even his shoulders looked like they were moving, like he wasn't breathing.

"Neige!" the dwarf called a bit loudly.

This time, you heard the name of the person you caught loud and clear: Neige, like the actual Neige LeBlanche, the artist Neige LeBlanche.

So that's why you suddenly remembered Rook, because his description of Neige LeBlanche was accurate, and that made you try to gaslight yourself, though it was obviously futile.

"I…" your voice broke, so you had to quietly clear your throat first. "I'm really sorry if I spooked your friend in any way, but I can't stay much longer since I have errands to run for our headmage."

The dwarf looked at you, giving you a polite smile before saying, "That's alright, thank you for—"

"Or we could assist you!" Neige suddenly spoke, surprising both you and the dwarf, and it seemed like he just recently started breathing again. "Ah! I didn't mean to frighten you…!"

"No, no, it's not like that! I just got surprised," you tried to reassure him immediately since it was part of your personality. "But… are you two not busy as well? I'm assuming you two are from the Royal Sword Academy."

"Are you perhaps from Night Raven College?" the dwarf asked, to which you nodded with a small smile. "What a coincidence! You see, we are on our way to buy supplies for our props, so if you're on your way to the same place, perhaps we could travel together?"

"I mean..." you uttered as you looked down, hesitant.

You took note of how the dwarf didn't seem to hold any resentment towards you, even though you're from the other side of the island, not to mention that Royal Sword Academy was a school that your school considers their rival.

"I believe we could at least introduce ourselves; I'm Dominic," the dwarf said, placing a hand on his chest and bowing towards you as a greeting. "I'm a second-year student at Royal Sword Academy."

"I see... I'm [name]," you said, and you contemplated extending your hand, but you were already doing it before you knew it. "I'm from NRC... and... I'm a third year."

"Neige, Neige LeBlanche! I'm a third-year too!"

He immediately grabbed your hand before Dominic could, but no one could say a thing since he was smiling brightly and gleaming, and you felt yourself being drawn in for a bit—he was almost similar to Kalim.

However, you tensed a bit when Neige placed his other hand on the back of yours, sandwiching your hand as he shook it, but to be polite, you gave him an eye-closed smile and a nod, expecting him to let go in a bit.

"Neige..." Dominic looked at him, making Neige look at Dominic too, and the dwarf gestured towards his hands that were sandwiching yours.

"Ahh! I'm sorry!" Neige released his hold immediately, placing his hands behind him to try and ease your discomfort. "I zoned out, I'm sorry!"

"No... it's fine," you responded hesitantly as you looked down at your hand. "Uhm, please do lead the way, I'm still... new in this place."

"Of course!" Dominic said, trying to ease your discomfort too. "Let's look for supplies in the bookstore!"

Neige was so nice that you just continued being wary of him since you weren't used to seeing someone that nice in Twisted Wonderland unless you were facing Kalim or Ortho.

It wasn't just his kindness and soft-spoken voice that made you feel that way; it was also because he seemed to be staring at you awfully much.

You had the supplies Crowley wanted at hand, but you find yourself wishing you could buy some supplies you've been eyeing, but alas, using the headmage money can cause drawbacks.

Maybe you should've accepted Neige's offer when he said he'd pay for what you bought, but that seems like you're taking advantage of his naivety.

Dominic was still in line, three people away from the cashier, so you engrossed yourself at the shelves where the books are, skimming through the titles and summaries.

"Do you like that book, [name]-san?"

His voice just popped out of nowhere, and you tensed a bit before relaxing yourself with your finger on top of the book as you looked back at Neige, who smiled at you innocently.

Perhaps you've grown to have a soft spot for Neige, but only a little bit—just a tiny little bit—because he was so nice to you despite only meeting you today and he was so attentive towards you; it felt overwhelming, but you weren't voicing your concerns, so you assume it was partly your fault.

"How many times are you going to ask that?" you chuckled as you pulled out the book from the shelf and looked at the cover. "Well... it has an interesting cover and title, but I'm just browsing."

You flipped the book to look at the summary on the back, your eyes scanning over it—oh, it has one of those famous troupes back in your world.

It's to be expected that there are transmigration books with long titles that have an obsessive love interest and a second lead that's chasing after the main character, who ends up with the so-called unexpected love interest.

The familiar plot is making you look back at the similar books you've read before, so you looked at the price to see if it was affordable, and to your not-really-shock, it was not.

"Didn't you want that?" he asked after seeing you return the book to the shelf after reading the summary.

"It has an interesting title and all..." you trailed off a little since you were overthinking the placement of the book a little, not sure if you got it there or the book beside it. "It has an interesting troupe that I'm familiar with, but I don't recommend it to you."

To him, who was looking at you with an innocent beam, one who can take all the words you say despite their harshness and might even see them in a positive light.

Now that you think about it, some obsessive people in what you read started off like that too; they were easily manipulated—you suddenly broke off your trail of thought because you're questioning yourself about why you were thinking about Neige in that way.

"Why not?" he asks, looking both curious and a bit surprised. "It can't be bad since you seem to be familiar with it, what is the book about?"

"It's something about—" you try to find a better word to hide the meaning of the book, so you grab the book to read it again while your mind works to paraphrase it. "The love interest likes the main character a bit more than usual."

"There are... boundaries to being interested in someone?" Neige asks, as you want to start sobbing in your mind because his tone sounded like he was completely oblivious to what you were talking about.

"I suppose it depends on morality," you said, steadying your voice as you returned the book, thinking of creating an example in which he recognizes it, but you don't want to trigger anything about him since you know nothing about him. "Let's say... someone likes someone too much to the point they cause pain to them and also to other people."

"In terms of... being too much..." Neige says, the side of his index finger near his lips, and you nodded a little to encourage him to continue, though you were digging yourself a grace in your mind. "In your own words... what is too much?"

You were taken aback. He was so innocent about the topic, and he could've asked for different things, such as why you thought the summary was interesting or why you were familiar with such a topic.

What answer should you even give to that personal question? It was opinionated, but you don't know what to say since you can't form coherent words at that moment.

"Is there anywhere you have to stop by, [name]-san?"

Dominic was back. You and Neige both looked at him, but you'll formulate an answer in your mind later because that question isn't really your priority anymore.

Your focus was on Dominic's question because it reminded you that yes, you do have something to do, and you had to buy ingredients for Vil's smoothie since his supply ran out and the cafeteria was a no for him.

"I do," you nodded a little, not noticing the way Neige lit up at your response. "What I need is near Night Raven College so I can manage on my own since your school is on the opposite... side of where I'm going."

"That..." Neige spoke first, the light in him dimming, but he remained smiling as you gave him an apologetic smile. "That's a shame."

"But it was nice to have you around," the dwarf said, to which you blinked surprised, causing him to laugh. "We hope to see you during the competition."

"And I wanted to get to know you a bit more," the other said, making you turn to him just to see him taking out his phone, and it's obvious what's going to happen next. "Could we share contacts, [name]-san?"

You hesitated because, as you think right now, you can't imagine what you were going to talk about with Neige—the Neige LeBlanche at that.

"I don't have a personal one..." you responded, growing a bit nervous.

The two blinked fast at your response, trying not to be too rude about their surprised reactions because even they have one despite their poor background.

Neige clearly remembers your words about how you weren't even from the island you're on, and he remembers how you said you were running errands for Night Raven College's headmage, who sent you out without a phone.

"That was delivered poorly..." you said after a few seconds of silence, fumbling to get out the phone the headmage lent. "The headmage lent me one, but it's not mine, so I'm not sure if I can..."

"Ah, that could work," Neige smiled, albeit calmly, as he extended his hand towards you. "May I?"

Nodding, you clicked on the contacts and handed it to him, watching as he tapped your number on his phone instead of the other way around.

"I'm surprised you don't have your own phone..."

"Ah, well..."

"I don't mean anything bad by it... What's more surprising is that it's lent by the headmage himself."

"Shit," you thought; perhaps you shouldn't have let that information slip. "It was for emergency purposes."

Neige hands you the phone back and smiles, "I'll see you again soon, [name]-san."

"Stay safe!"

"Oh! You too!"

A frown spread on your face as you paused the music under Vil's command, looking down on the first years that tried to catch their breath from practicing too much while the second years were used to exerting that much energy.

You grabbed the towels and their respective water bottles before handing them to the dancers; to your amusement, the first years chugged it down as VIl sighed.

"Did you see that?" Vil asked, gesturing to the first years as Rook praised them despite their movements not being up to the model's standards. "Manager."

"If balance is the problem, not to assume because of their structure, but won't heels be a good training method?" you asked, looking up to the model as you tried to block out Rook's words. "The first year's posture and flow are—"

— r i n g !

Horror plastered on your face immediately as you looked away from Vil and down to the headmage's phone in your pocket, which you grabbed immediately.

After your encounter with the students from the Royal Sword Academy and knowing that Neige took your number, you've been anxiously waiting for the call, not wanting to miss it because you didn't want to be the one to call back and start a conversation.

"Take it outside, manager," Vil said, to which you nodded and scurried away immediately, making the Ace and Deuce raise a brow. "What's with that reaction?"

"Ah, well—we thought we were the only contacts the prefect had," Deuce said.

"In reference to the break before the whole competition thing, I was sure we were," Ace agreed, nodding his head as he stood up. "You know what this means, Juice?"

"We don't have time for gossip," Vil cuts in before anything else, making the first years tense up as the model held up a heel. "Wear these."

Ace stared jaw-dropped as Deuce started sweating nervously at the thought of wearing one, and Epel couldn't tell whether to deadpan or laugh at the reaction of the two because Epel was already used to it.

You answered the phone on your way out of the ballroom, just in time to see Riddle walking in with the papers in hand, his heels clicking.

"Good afternoon, prefect," the prefect greeted, his posture perfect compared to your trembling hands that couldn't even put the call on hold. "Am I allowed to enter?"

"Of course, Vil-san and the rest are inside; just don't forget to knock," you said before looking at the phone and placing it near your ear, which made Riddle get the idea that you can't talk for long. "I think you're the exact person they need to see, Riddle-san."

Your words made the Heartslabyul prefect chuckle a little before commenting, "Your mind works wonders."

— c l i c k !

You swear that right after you were talking, the phone fell before another person from Neige's line suddenly talked about cosmetics and also before the call suddenly got cut short.

The ebony-haired student picked up the fallen phone, a red hue covering his pale cheeks, almost matching the color of his lips, before he wiped the screen of his phone.

He sees that the call has already ended, making him softly frown before he notices the notification that pops up suddenly; it was from you, asking if he was okay.

Of course he was okay! He felt more than okay, because not only did he get to call you, he also learned a bit about you, and he got to hear you laugh—and it was all in one day.

The makeup artist stared in horror, fussing over the phone that fell earlier as Neige only lightly trembled in excitement, his lips quivering as he stared at your contact that didn't have a photo or a name that fit the way he sees you.

The happiness he felt could rival the times he read R's letters or when he saw his supporters. He sighs, feeling disappointed that he heard of it through the phone and that the call also ended quickly.

He's fuming, but he had to calm down.

In your eyes, Neige was a stranger, yet you were so nice to him when you two first met, reassuring him many times that he wasn't at fault whenever he made you nervous.

Riddle did interrupt you two early on during the call, but you remained polite, even greeting the dorm leader before you made time for Neige himself.

The point was that you were nice to strangers, and there's no doubt that you'd remain nice to the makeup artist who disturbed your conversation with him, right?

"Alright, let me type something, and then we can continue with the finishing touches," Neige smiled sweetly, looking back down on his phone. "Oh, and could you get something for me in the bookstore and at the mall?"

"O-Of—"

"On second thought, I can do it," Neige cuts off immediately as he happily types. "It would have much more sentimental value that way, right? What phone model is the latest one today?"

Neige blinked at the crying emoji, wondering what he did wrong or if it was serious; he hasn't interacted with people as much on social media, so what you send confuses him.

Did he make you cry already? Was there something wrong with what he sent you?

Nevertheless, you wished him success, and his heart warmed at that. It was probably how you normally text people, yet he yearned to make you see how he stands out in your view of people.

"I can't wait..." Neige smiles as he turns off his phone before turning towards the makeup artist. "For now, I'll work hard until you see me as someone more than someone you just met."

THIS IS HEIZNX, this was an idea i wrote in my notebook, i stressed over the colors sm. there's supposed to be more, like the scene with deuce and epel on the beach (?) part near RSA, and yuu called for neige's help since he's famous. the relationship progressed and all, but mc suddenly stopped replying to neige, because of the book 6 events. i'm imagining vil having an interview with neige and vil brought mc along so they could apologize to neige. they were able to, but neige starts voicing his self-loathing and how he felt sad and all that, and yuu was guilt tripped to being in a romantic relationship with him.