#elite eight au

[cryptid-moone]

E-8 Au Stuff P1 (old 🤠)

Au ranting time for @g4v1nsgun ✨✨✨ (sorry i took a a while)

Also credits to @guardianofzing for one of the images i use here and credits to however else made the others cuz idk

So everyone knows both of these groups right, rotbtd and the futuristic four

Yeah we all know them

To my complete surprise there is little to no content with all eight of them, which is crazy cuz this being a crossover fandom i assumed people would go nuts for a team up

So i decided to do it myself, and i introduce them as: The Elite Eight (ft a mediocre edit)

The team dynamics would work the same way they would as in their regular settings, i.e.:

Hiccup and Penny are the voices of reason, Merida and Wilbur are the thrill seekers etc etc

Only difference is now that the group is basically 4 freshmen and 4 juniors we have the classic Mentor and Student dynamic

As for the world building, to sum it up rq. It’s a modern/futuristic with magic universe combining brave, tangled/tts, bh6, bolt, mtr, the incredibles(1-2) and elements of rotg and httyd (specifically race to the edge)

Things like dragons, wisps, and magic all exist, but in a percy jackson type fashion. Only specific people can see these things ykwim

The movies are all canon (not rotg, for reasons to be elaborated on later) but with a modern twist, to be explained below:

How To Train Your Dragon - 3 years pre-canon

Meet The Robinsons, Bolt - 2 years pre-canon

Big Hero Six - 1 year pre-canon

Brave, Tangled, Rise Of The Guardians - in the story

As for ROTG, the whole “guardians of childhood” thing isn’t in this au because i couldn’t make it work. So for a modern retelling of that, tldr Jack is basically a teen in the foster system with major amnesia. The guardians are as they were but they’re not “guardians”, more like Jacks new foster family that also happen to be a bunch of magical creatures and myths.

The guardians and their house are basically a fusion of professor xaviors mansion/school for mutants(X-Men), the house in The Grimm Sisters, the treehouse in The Last Kids On Earth and the camp in Percy Jackson.

As for the superhero aspect, Violet and Hiro are gonna get the Peter Parker treatment. They’re hiding things from everyone else, which is crazy because everyone in the group is hiding something and i think that’s super funny

That’s it for part one! Part two will be up later on at some point

Links:

[adventurer-gearld]

Hi. When you said Callie "wants her claws back" in the latest time travel au post, can I ask why she has claws in the future but not the past? Also, what happens with Callie in the splat 2 hero mode?

Ah hello! I will put answers under the cut :]

To answer the first question, I headcanon that Callie got some gloves during her time with the Octarians that have fake claws on them. Since I think Octolings should have claws because it’s cool, things are made with the fact that they have claws in the domes. Like packaging that doesn’t have the “tear here” because normally a person just claws it open.

So Callie got gloves to fit in more and also to avoid difficulties that come from a society where people normally have claws. She decided to continue wearing them after her rescue because they’re useful and cool

Like this. And since the post takes place in Splatoon 1, she did not have the gloves, therefore did not have her claws which she’s grown used to having.

To answer the second question, I haven’t entirely decided. Part of me thinks she’d just avoid being kidnapped, but another says that she’s sympathetic toward Octarians and would willingly let herself be kidnapped to establish new programs and raise morale in the domes using her higher rank given by Octavio.

I’m the situation where she does end up ‘kidnapped’ she does her stuff like decorating everything and trying to convince Octavio to make a mental health program.

In the scenario where she doesn’t get kidnapped, splatoon 2 just plays out as a save the great Zapfish mission without a kidnapped Squid Sister alongside it.

I’m leaning toward the willing kidnapped side but still unsure

[catchncritique]

"Are these Grandfather's skies?"

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so be warned if he's not someone you like to read about. Contains swearing, descriptions of violence and killing. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,399

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. The next chapter is here and as you voted for, their first kiss is here. Honestly I'm not overly happy with this chapter but I'm excited for the next parts I have planned going forward. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight(here) | Chapter Nine |Chapter Ten(coming soon)

——————

“I understand Joker is a very busy man and he has a meal organised soon but will he actually be joining us tonight?” The servant tensed when he was cornered by the Captain of the crew now staying in the palace. Under the intense stare and fear that these unknown pirates could become violent without warning, he shifted uncomfortably out of the added fear that he could say the wrong thing and bring the true terrifying anger of the King down on him. “Well?”

“U-um Joker has um…” The servant stammer out before clearing his throat and controlling his fear. His ruler was more terrifying than any of these men combined and he had to remember that and accomplish his tasks to the same standard as he would any other day. “Seats have been specifically assigned for Joker and the elite officers so he should be attending tonight.” His answer seemed to settle the Captain and with nothing else needed he left, breathing a sigh of relief when he was out of his sight. The Captain however felt new nerves begin to rise. 

He would finally learn who Joker was. Given how lavish the palace was he was more and more sure he was just some criminal that got lucky in creating a weapons empire. The only real threat was the power in his name and ‘elite officers’ in his employ. Where it just the two of them alone in a room together he was quietly confident that he could overpower and take Joker out if need be. Still though he and his men were on their best behaviour. Already they had countless ambitious plans in mind for later.

When the weapons were safely loaded into their ships and their hosts were too drunk to intervene they’d take what they could and what wouldn’t be immediately noticed until they were long gone and safely on the seas. Of course they’d dispose of Joker’s men that would be joining them and wait an appropriate amount of time before having word sent of their defeat. Their crew would change their alias and ship name and sell the weapons on. It was the perfect plan and given how relaxed the security was here in Dressrosa, he really had nothing to worry about. Allowing himself to relax the Captain stepped out into the Palace’s grounds and sought out the closest servant to grab him a drink. In what felt like no time at all he was being summoned to the banquet room. 

As he walked through the corridor, the rest of his crew slowly began to join him from other corridors until they were all led inside the enormous room already filled with the most delicious smells from the finest looking food awaiting to be served and feasted on. Multiple tables were set up and carefully arranged to make room for all of the guests while servants lined the wall, awaiting to be of assistance. The lower ranking members of the Captain’s crew and the lower ranked subordinates of Joker’s crew took the longer tables to the back of the room to mingle amongst themselves. One table at the top of the room stood out and it was clear no one was to go near it expect the Captain and his right and left hands. One servant led the three men to the ornate table and instructed them to sit. The three were spaced out, most likely to seem as though they were to mingle too but nervously the Captain also felt like this was the perfect way to keep everyone separated and helpless. Trying to keep those paranoid thoughts at bay, he reached for the already poured drink in front of him only to freeze. What if the glass was poisoned?

Thankfully no one was nearby to notice his hesitation and even if they had they had no time to mention it because from outside the banquet hall the sound of footsteps drew closer. Joker’s crew immediately silenced their conversations and rose from their seats. While other pirates fell quiet they remained sitting, watching curiously and waiting. The Captain watched as the banquet room doors opened and one by one people entered, each looking more and more intimidating. They all stopped by their designated seats until only two opposite the Captain remained vacant. Nervously the man licked his lips, wondering why two seats were empty. Vaguely he recalled some of his men mentioning coming across one of Joker’s playthings while they were bathing. Dread filled him then. He remembered the call where Joker mentioned his new lover. Had that been who they meant? His head whipped around in time to see you enter the room. 

You walked completely relaxed, gaze lazily sliding over the men sitting at their tables. While you spotted where your three targets were sat you gave no visible indication or reaction to where they would be sitting. As much as Doflamingo had promised the pleasure in killing them would be yours, you didn’t fully trust him to do something and pretend it was just coincidence that they were the ones targeted. When you met Diamante’s stare you smirked slightly, seeing that he was watching you carefully. Doflamingo had most likely asked him to watch for any giveaways that indicated who broke into your room earlier and from the slight annoyance in his eyes you knew he didn’t see anything. Smiling sweetly you stepped to your designated seat and lazily folded your arms on the back of it, settling your gaze firmly on the guest of honour capturing his attention. 

The Captain knew he probably shouldn’t ogle you so openly but how could he not? Everything about your appearance demanded attention. Your choice in clothing highlighted your form perfectly and showed just enough skin to catch the eye of others while still leave them wanting to see more. Whoever Joker was, he was a lucky man to have you on his arm and in his bed. Despite how attractive you were, what captured the Captain even more so was your relaxed attitude. Everyone else in Joker’s ranks stood tall and almost tense, waiting for his arrival, but you? You were completely at ease even when Joker’s purposeful steps began to approach. Everything told the Captain to at least turn his head and finally have his curiosity answered about the identity of the man he was scamming now but he didn’t want to look away from the force of your stare. Slowly he swallowed hard when your lips curved slightly into a playful smile and he heard his own crew begin to mutter and whisper as they tried to make out Joker’s face.

Then the ripple of shock and fear washed through the banquet hall when Doflamingo came into view, the feeling so visceral that the Captain shuddered without even seeing who it was that was drawing near. Then in what felt like a blink he made out the shape of someone standing next to you and finally you turned your head and seemed to break him from his spell. The Captain looked and froze completely to see the grinning face of Doflamingo Donquixote. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he had made Doflamingo one of the targets of his scams. Had he known, he never would have done it. Fear gripped him as he now realised he and his men were trapped in the Warlord’s base, his entire island. They were screwed. There was no way they were getting out of this. Unless…had they done enough to keep the man fooled? If they saw the scam through to the end could they make it back to their ship safely. “Do-doflamingo, sir! I-it’s an honour! O-or would you still prefer I call you Joker?”

“Either’s fine.” Doflamingo grinned, the frightened expression he was witness to was perfect and there was still so much more fun to come. “We’re all allies here.”

“Aww poor man’s terrified.” Your cheerful voice broke the tension as you, Doflamingo and the rest of the family slid into your seats. The Captain glanced at you, finding it easier to breath when he wasn’t looking at the man in charge. “Just relax. You’ll feel better once you’ve had a drink.” The Captain glanced at the untouched drink still in his hand and his previous paranoia came back. What if this banquet was truly a final meal? Was it all poison? As if reading his thoughts your laugh drifted up. The Captain all but flinched when you rose slightly in your seat and leant across the table to settle your hand on his to softly coax the glass out of his trembling grip. His eyes widened while you took a sip. You set the glass back into his hand and sat back in your seat while licking the stray droplet of alcohol from your lip. “See? Harmless.”

The Captain watched as Doflamingo’s hand settled firmly on your leg when you were back in your seat in a clear show of possession and quickly he looked away from you and threw back his drink. It might have been harmless but you were very dangerous. The last thing he needed was to succeed in his scam but get killed because Doflamingo didn’t like how he was looking at you. The Captain felt relief when the servants appeared with the many plates of food, managing to break the tension and everyone seemed to completely relax. Conversation began to surge up and all previous worries eased back,  the Captain being pulled into idle conversation with a member of Doflamingo’s family obsessed with art. While he wasn’t truly interested it was better to engage with the older woman than risk dying early.

Doflamingo leant in to speak in your ear, his voice low enough so only you would hear him. “And people call me the scary one.”

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, mouth hidden behind your own glass as you turned your head slightly towards him.

“You’re like a completely different person. Being sweet and nice?” He chuckled while you smirked. “Truly terrifying how easily you can pretend to be comfortable in a room filled with pirates.”

“I’’m always sweet and nice. Besides, who says I’m pretending?” You asked innocently. “I’ve never been uncomfortable here and none of the new additions here are going to change that.”

“Not even the ones who got a little too familiar with you?” Doflamingo asked, the tone in his voice hardening slightly. He watched you carefully to see if you’d subconsciously look in the direction of the men you had refused to identify. Unfortunately for him, you kept your sights firmly on his face, your calm smile unmoving. 

“Not even them.” You insisted before taking a sip of your drink. You dropped your free hand onto his that remained on your leg and gave it a reassuring pat. Turning your head fully you leant in to murmur “This isn’t my first time having to play at being a pirate’s lover so stop worrying. As long as I get the ones I want, I won’t ruin your plan. Deal?” Your only answer was Doflamingo’s chuckle in your ear and his glass clinking against yours.

———-

For the remainder of the banquet, the sound of laughter and conversation didn’t stop. Through it all you noticed a few of the pirate crew becoming more at ease, no longer shooting nervous glances towards Doflamingo. Either they had enough alcohol in their systems now to have a lack of fear or they believed that the Warlord truly had no idea he was being deceived. You almost felt bad for them. Almost. When the evening was winding down you’d found your chair pulled closer so you were lounging against Doflamingo’s side while he spoke with the Captain who was beginning to slur his words slightly as he thanked Doflamingo for his generosity and promised him he and his crew would be valuable additions to his numbers. 

You felt Doflamingo’s body tense and knew his patience was beginning to fray and he was building up to finally enacting his revenge against the crew. Some of the other members at the table realised too and began to move from their seats, the guests failing to notice their movements. Slowly you pulled out from Doflamingo’s hold and allowed him to stand.

“Everyone before we end this wonderful feast we have one more treat for the evening.” He announced with a broad grin while his guests cheered out. “It’s a game I like to call survival.” Immediately the cheering stopped and the drunken faces still conscious immediately sobered, terror flooding their bodies. “While I applaud you all for thinking you could steal from me and lie, I can’t let it go unpunished. So I’m going to give you all a five minute head start. If you can make it to your ship, you can leave with your lives. If you make it to the streets of Dressrosa but get caught, you’ll be sent to our Coliseum and fight for the rest of your lives. If you’re still in the palace when you get caught? You die. Your time starts now.” 

The reaction was immediate, the subordinates of the pirate crew scrambled from their seats and rushed for the doors, staggering and hurrying from the banquet hall. Any of their friends that were sleeping off their meal and overindulgence of drink were abandoned. Still sitting in their seats were the Captain and his left and right hands but it wasn’t by their decision. They were held firmly in place in their seats, something controlling their bodies against their will. Doflamingo’s laughter filled the room as he and the rest of the family sat patiently for the five minutes to pass. “Sadly for you, Captain. You don’t get to play.”

Doflamingo had thought that you would have left immediately too to make sure no one else killed your mystery targets but instead for the five minutes you remained in your seat, completely relaxed. When the wait was over and those under his command started the hunt you finally rose with a soft sigh and left the room. Ignoring the hurried footsteps and panicked yells of the pirates who ran aimlessly through the palace, still unfamiliar with the confusing layout as they desperately tried to find their way to safety you made your way to the chosen room. 

During the feast, the maid that had been so apologetic for not being able to stop your targets secretly slipped a message to the men while they ate and drank under your instruction. She informed them subtly that when it was quiet and Doflamingo wasn't looking they were to make their way out of the hall and follow her where you would meet them later to finish what had been started. Fuelled on their own ego, fantasies, and emboldened by the alcohol in their systems they all saw no possible negative to this proposition. They didn't see you as a threat. With a small hum you opened the doors and stepped in to see the three men waiting, their expressions impatient and frustrated. “Took you long enough.”

“I told you I preferred to take my time with these things.” You said with a smile, lazily folding your arms behind your back. “Besides, Doffy’s not an easy man to sneak away from. Needed to wait until he was preoccupied with your Captain.” At the mention of the Warlord and their Captain, the three men seemed to calm their anger slightly. “So who’s first?”

“Just because you're fucking a Warlord doesn't mean you're in charge.” One snarled, pushing away from the wall he had been leaning against and headed towards you. “Like we told you, this is what we want.” He reached for you only to stagger when you dodged him with ease. Sharply you hooked your foot around his and threw your arm around his neck, twisting sharply to snap his leg and send him hurtling to the floor, smashing his face against the pristine marble floor. His howls of pain filled the room and you wasted no time in getting up and closing the distance while the other two were surprised. 

The next pirate closest to you tried to pull his dagger on you only to be disarmed with your precise training. You used his strength and your momentum against him to twist his hand and force him to stab himself. While the wound was deep and immediately debilitating it wouldn’t kill him right away, you were going to let him die slowly. Twisting the blade, you ripped it from his chest and whirled to shoot the third pirate in the back with your own pistol as he tried to flee into one of the side rooms. He crumpled to the floor, unable to move. 

The coward wouldn't even try to stay and fight you? Pathetic. For all that talk they were all very disappointing. Slowly you stepped up to the pirate you’d shot and kicked him onto his back. The least he could do was look you in the eye when you killed him. Coldly pulled the trigger once more and put him out of his misery. The only sound that still filled the room was the pained, muffled breaths of the first pirate, the one who’d touched you while you had bathed. You returned to him and stood on his broken leg, smirking when he cried out in pain through a mouth filled with blood and broken teeth. Holding his friend’s dagger firmly you crouched down until you were poised over him and stabbed him, relishing how much of a release it was for your anger and disgust for him and his crew. Unable to hold back you stabbed him again and again as all the frustrations you’d been holding onto finally slipped away. 

With a low sigh you rose and took steadying breaths. Suddenly you felt a presence behind you and your spun, blade striking down on the person only to hear the confusing sound of steel clattering to the ground. Blinking you saw the hilt of the weapon still in your hand but the blade was gone, now by your feet as fate intervened once more to prevent you hurting Doflamingo who stood in front of you. Slowly you looked up at him to see him grinning at you. Even with his sunglasses on you could feel the heavy force of the stare aimed at you. There was a beat of silence before the tension snapped and inexplicably you both closed the distance. 

Doflamingo’s mouth claimed yours at the same time yours melded perfectly against his. You dropped the useless dagger and your bloodied hand fisted tightly into his shirt as his settled on your lower back, pulling the other closer at the same time. You’d never had a kiss this powerful before, one that made your mind hazy and craving more so instantly. It felt right but at the same time it was wrong. You couldn’t allow yourself to give in, to let it progress further. The same was also the case for Doflamingo. 

He'd seen you kill them so perfectly and viciously that he’d felt pride in his chest at seeing you exact your revenge against them that he couldn’t help but kiss you. But now that he was in that moment, he couldn’t let it deepen. He had trysts and lovers, someone to fill the space in his bed for as long as he still got some enjoyment and pleasure out of it. He refused to let this get deeper, to feel anything more than he did. He was still set on defying fate and knowing you couldn’t be manipulated and used the way he could with others, he refused to give you more power. He refused to set you any closer to being on equal footing with him. In unison you both parted and hands dropped. Together you both left the room, leaving from separate doors. You headed straight for your room to wash off the blood and Doflamingo was immediately called for by one of the subordinates to inform him all the pirates had been dealt with. For the rest of the night you and Doflamingo both hated how much you’d wished the kiss you could both still feel on your lips had continued.

———————————————-

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[peachhcs]

will surprising sam and coming out to visit her at mich and going to her game

something other than hockey

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

ugh yes she has no idea he's coming until she wins the game and sees him after. later that night, they go out together getting somehwat drunk and then cuddling up togther on the couch.

2k words

warnings: underage drinking but that's really it

au masterlist

michigan led the score 3-2 with two minutes left in the final half. the crowd in the stands were on their feet going crazy and cheering on the lady wolverines to keep up their lead. the ohio state women played dity earning themselves and the michigan red and yellow cards left and right. samy scaled the field with her teammates trying to recapture the ball while trying to watch her back after getting herself a yellow card ten minutes earlier for pushing one of the other girls over. 

ellen and jim were on their feet watching the game in anticipation with nearly every single men's hockey player scattered across the stands watching their favorite hughes play. ethan and mark stood at the front of it all making their section the most rowdiest. the two convinced their teammates to come out since it was the final home game and if they won this game, the girls advanced the elite eight—so much closer to the national championships. 

"let's go! run it up the field!" ethan hardly had a voice left as it rasped in his throat. 

the timer quickly itself down now with only 90 seconds left in the game. samy yelled things to her teammates as they started running towards the goal with the ball in their clutch. 

"take the shot! you've got time!" mark's voice was hardly there either. 

anytime the two went to samy's games they came back with a lot less voice than they started with. sometimes samy thought they were crazy for screaming at every game because a lot of the times they were the only ones screaming at the top of their lungs. 

one of the ref's whistles blew making a sign for a time out from ohio's side. everyone let out a collective, half annoyed sigh as the teams huddled together. 

"dunno why they're calling a time out. there's a minuet left and we have the ball. there's no way they're gonna score," ethan mumbled with a shake of his head. 

"osu's gonna dig for every chance they can get. i doubt they're gonna give it up that easily," jim mentioned. 

ethan and mark took the small break as an opportunity to rehydrate and hopefully make their throats less dry. "how you doing, smitty?" ethan shifted his attention to samy's boyfriend sitting to his right. 

the girl actually had zero idea will was in town for the weekend. it was his mission to finally surprise her and with this weekend being game less, of course he'd never pass up the opportunity to see his girl. 

was he missing all the practices this weekend? yes. would his coaches kill him for not being there? probably. would he sit bench at the next game? most likely. 

did will care? no. not at all. 

for once in his near 18-year playing career, he finally had something other than hockey to think about. hockey wasn't his number one anymore, nor would it ever be as long as samy was in life. 

"i'm good. getting worked up about this game," the blonde responded to ethan's question.

th older boy quickly nodded in agreement, "osu's playing like shit, yet we're getting all the cards." 

"the coach knows what he's doing. i think he's scared of samy knowing how well she's played this past season for only being a freshman," mark commented and the boys nodded in agreement. 

the whistle blew again and the girls got back into position. everyone's eyes were on samy as she traveled up the field alongside her teammates. something about the way she communicated and moved with four other girls reminded will a lot of his line with gabe and ryan. 

"put it in! show 'em what we got!" luca yelled from the back. 

the timer shrunk down to 40 seconds left. 

one of the girls passed the ball samy's way as she ran up the field towards the goal. osu's defense was strong, but boy was the youngest hughes stronger and smarter than them. 

"20 seconds!" ethan yelled. 

the crowd began counting down with the timer, so samy took her chances with putting it in. with her momentum from sprinting up the field, she did a near corner kick towards the goal. time slowed itself as everyone's eyes watched the ball soar through the air. 

osu's goalie jumped up, but she missed it by half an inch, so the ball scraped right past her finger tips and into the back of the net. 

screams erupted from the entire student section. the umich girls stormed the field in celebration while the boys jumped up in victory, immediately hugging one another. 

"for the first time in program history, the lady wolverines will continue on dancing to the elite eight! congratulations!" the announcer exclaimed through the speakers. 

will followed after the group of now excited hockey boys to the field to congratulate samy. he had been so wrapped up in the game that his nerves about surprising samy hadn't made themselves known until now. a crowd of students were already on the field sending their congratulations to the players it was hard keeping track of everyone. 

the blonde stuck himself close to ethan in fear that he'd get separated and lose the group. sweaty bodies hit into will almost knocking him sideways followed by a half apology that didn't really mean sorry. the boy quickly scanned people's faces hoping samy was somewhere close by and they could all leave the now crowded field. 

suddenly, someone squealed and ethan stopped walking. will's eyes flicked back over and he quickly caught sight of the girl wrapped up in mark's arms. all of the hockey boys crowded around the youngest hughes basically blocking will from her view. 

the blonde shifted on his feet waiting for her to finally notice him. his heart rate felt like it was pounding through his chest and he didn't know why. it was samy. his girlfriend. 

maybe will was freaked because this was the first time they've seen one another since summer ended and they went to college. talking over the phone and texting was one thing, but seeing one another in person was another. they only had two months of being in a relationship in person before college cut a wedge between that. 

finally, ethan stepped side, his eyes finding will's with a tiny smirk. samy followed the older boy's gaze in slight confusion before she met gazes with will. 

she stared at him for a good five seconds before jumping into his arms which almost sent both of them to the ground. 

"you're here. what are you doing here?" samy's grip was strong around will's neck. the boy smiled into her skin, breathing her in. 

"came to surprise you. got in this afternoon," he explained. 

having her in his arms and the way she held onto him eased all of the worries he had minutes before this. god, it felt so good. 

"don't you have practice? how'd you get out of it?" samy pulled back to see her boyfriend's face. he smiled a bit, putting her down, but not letting go. 

"i mean.. i didn't i just kind of left," will shrugged. 

"your coach is gonna kill you," samy couldn't believe he was skipping an entire weekend of practice for her. 

"they can do whatever they want to me if it means i get to spend a weekend with you," the blonde smiled softly. 

his words made the girl blush a deep crimson and it got even worse when he leaned down to connect their lips in a sweet kiss. the hockey players still watching smiled at the interaction along with ellen and jim. 

remembering that everyone was still watching them, samy carefully directed will's lips away from hers for the time being. he pouted some. "later," the girl mumbled before stepping away from him to greet her parents. 

"i gotta change and debrief the team. i'll catch you guys in like 20 minutes if you wanna wait around," the brunette looked back at everyone. 

"you got it little hughesy," ethan threw a thumbs up in her direction. 

the girl chuckled. she kissed will's cheek one last time before running off to join her teammates as they began walking back into the sports complex. a minute later, ethan jumped onto will's shoulders, a large grin on his lips. 

"i think that definitely went well. what do you think?" the older brunette asked. 

"definitely. thanks for getting me here," will grinned. 

"anytime, smitty. you're like our little brother now," ethan looked at mark who nodded. 

the younger boy smiled to himself at the boys' words.

—

later that night, samy and will found themselves tucked away in a corner couch at the senior hoceky house. truscott threw, so of course the invite opened itself to the youngest hughes and will. it was a good way to celebrate with some of her favorite people after today's big win.

the two made their rounds saying hi to everyone, but samy found them a couch off in a side room. the alcohol buzzed through their systems—sometimes samy had a hard time saying no when someone offered her a shot. plus, she thought she deserved it, too.

will definitely wouldn't pass up free alcohol, so he followed the girl's lead. now, the couple cuddled into one another letting the party drown out around them.

"'m glad you're here. i missed you," samy mumbled with a soft smile.

will's learned that samy became extremely affectionate and talkative whenever she was drunk, but he certainly didn't mind. he'd listen to her talk for hours.

"missed you too, pretty girl. feels like it's been forever," will hummed, eyes never leaving hers.

a small frown replaced the smile, "i know. wish we didn't live so far apart now. facetime isn't the same."

"winter break is soon, though. we'll get to see each other then."

"if my parents let me go to sweden. boston and another country are two completely different things," the brunette mumbled.

will almost forgot he was going to sweden for the us world juniors. that seemed so far away and now it was almost here. he squeezed samy's thigh that was draped across his lap.

"still can't believe you skipped practice to come see me," the girl changed the subject for now. her grin returned earning a smile from will.

"well what else am i gonna do? not see you until who knows when?" the blonde playfully raised his eyebrow.

"never known you to skip hockey practice for someone, especially a girl," samy chuckled. her hands reached up to play with will's curls on the nape of his neck not covered by the hat he had on.

her touch sent sparks down his spine and a little skip in his heartbeat.

"i guess things change."

"if you could rank them, what's first?" samy kept firing her random questions.

"you," will said without hesitation.

"me?"

"yes, you," the blonde smiled.

"you're lying," a laugh escaped the girl's lips as if she didn't believe her boyfriend.

"no i'm not," this time it was will's turn to be confused.

samy read his look, gently shoving him away from her, "come on, smitty. you've been focused on hockey for..for since we were born. there's no way anything could ever replace that."

the way she called him smitty, picking it up from gabe and ryan some years ago, did something dangerous to the boy. he gently shook his head, intertwining their fingers.

"that was before i realized i've been missing what's right in front of me all along. it's always you, samy," will said softly creating another deep blush on the girl's cheeks.

"god, you're so corny," the brunette rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

will cupped her cheek, bringing her lips closer to his since their kiss earlier was cut short because of everyone watching them. they connected in another sweet kiss.

samy's lips tasted of strawberries and vodka that only made will kiss her harder wanting to get every inch of that taste off her lips.

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 9

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Yeehaw by @buoyantsaturn

Or: 5 times Will had a secret power and 1 time he didn't

yall DO NOT UNDERSTAND how much i love this fucking fic. i read it one time when i was like 16, before i started bookmarking fics, and then a couple years ago i spent TWELVE GODDAMN DAYS sifting through every fic in my history to find this. i LOVE this fic. i love will having a strange scattering of powers he doesnt really advertise. its so fun and exciting. i also love 5+1 fics w my whole soul

2. give me one good honest kiss by @ethannku

One second Jason is across from him, lounging against the wall; the next, he’s leaning in, closing the distance between them. And then the warmth is back, blooming across Leo’s face, and he’s worried he’s going to start a fire. His eyes subconsciously slide shut. He registers a soft pressure on his cheek, Jason’s hand, and Leo is certain that his face must be burning. Jason sits back before he’s set aflame, though, and a smile flickers on his face. Leo’s lips tingle. Jason’s hand is still on his cheek. Without thinking, Leo darts his tongue out to lick his lips. Cherry. “Does that answer your question?” - Or; four times Jason kisses Leo, and one time Leo kisses him back

i mentioned my love for 5+1s. this one has SO MUCH. theres a sprinkling of implied autistic leo, explicit nonbinary nico, lesbian piper, some LOVELY leo & piper moments (i love them so bad), and jason just like. deciding he is going to be obvious and start dating leo. while leo is sitting there like ?????? sir????? and setting himself on fire is so so funny to me

3. over lame jokes and laundry detergent by @rosyredlipstick

met doing laundry at 2am college au - Nico likes his alone time and is more then a little pissed off when annoying med student Will Solace throws his routine off balance.

ONE OF MY TOP TEN FAVE ROSYREDLIPSTICK FICS.....LIKE I GIGGLE EVERY TIME!!! nothing is funnier to me than nico trying to be the wickedest grouch and he just. cant. because will makes him smile without meaning to. and theyre STRANGERS?? AND THIS IS STILL HAPPENING?? like i go feral every time. also the WAY nico was eyeing him...boy i get you 😭😭

4. water splashin' and sun shinin' by @rosyredlipstick

Nico is absolutely aghast with the conditions he's forced to work under. Sure, the surf shack has air conditioning and a fully stocked snack area, and the wifi isn't bad, and it doesn't hurt that's he's in the shade all day, but how in the gods names is he expected to work when lifeguard Will Solace won't put on a damn shirt?

no trope and i mean NO trope will ever be better than both will and nico being catastrophically humiliatingly ninth circle of hell chipping away to find the tenth down bad for each other. and not doing anything about it for weeks. just constant thirsting and pining it is so so SO funny to me. that is their dynamic. and a fic where will just has an excuse to never wear a shirt and nico has an excuse (no he doesn't) to stare...they are so constantly real

5. petal to the metal by @rosyredlipstick

“How do I passive aggressively say fuck you in a bouquet?”

i think i have been doing these fic rec fridays long enough to tell yall my truth: fics written in 2016 were elite. i dont know what it is about the year, but consistently, fics, especially by prolific authors, written in 2016 have something special that just make you read them eight billion times. this was one of those fics where i read it to the end, kudosed, and then scrolled right back up to the top and read again. so so so fun. rizzed up nico RIGHTS

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[jinx-xxed]

Out in the Cold

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; This kind of AU is what most of my writings are based in, so I hope this is a good introduction! There will be more of these to come :) I hope you enjoy!

Part of Written in the Stars

Part 2

Summary; You are a pupil of the Force under Supreme Leader Snoke along with Kylo Ren. You hate him. He’s arrogant and cocky and has done nothing but make your life miserable. So what happens when you have to save his life?

Content; Aftermath of TFA, treating Kylo’s wounds, enemies to ???, Kylo’s a loser, reader taking things into their own hands, probably some medical malpractice, some Force connecting, reader also hates Hux

Wc; 3.9k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“Leave the base at once and come to me with Kylo Ren,” Snoke’s voice manages to remain booming and intimidating even amongst the collapsing rubble. His projection leans back in the throne he’s sitting in, his gnarled face creased in contemplation. “It is time for you both to complete your training.”

“Right away, Supreme Leader,” you say, head bowing. His projection fizzles out not even a second later, leaving you alone to figure out how to complete the new task you’ve been given without losing your life in the process. The planet is imploding, and there’s only so much longer before the sun boiling beneath the surface breaks through and burns everything on it to mere ash in the atmosphere. It all went awry so quickly, it’s almost laughable. Starkiller Base—Hux’s little passion project—has been rendered a failure, destroyed by Resistance forces.

You tear through the halls of the base, the entire foundation shaking and crumbling around you. You stop by your office, which has already been mostly cleared out by members of your elite personal fleet—Fleet 74—and grab BB-12 who’d been waiting for you. He rolls obediently behind you as you rush out. People are in a frenzy, most trying desperately to get to transports and get the hell out, others trying to stick it through and finish whatever duty they’d been given by a higher up. You tell whoever you can to head to the hangars, to pile onto transports and evacuate, even if it’s hard to hear over the commotion. You click on the radio that’s attached to your shoulder. “Fleet 74—this is your captain speaking. I’ve been given a new assignment I have to complete before I can leave, so I can’t lead you out. Follow formation, follow Chief, and I’ll get back to you when I can.” You say, shoving past a panicked lieutenant.

“Heard, Captain. Stay safe.” Chief, your second in command, responds. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

You enter into hangar eight, and it can only be described as chaos. Stormtroopers and engineers and all kinds of different workers are running about, getting into whatever kind of ship they can while trying to maintain some kind of pathetic semblance of order. TIE fighters screech as they shoot into the burning atmosphere, orange and red and black blazing outside the hangar opening. Flames lick at the darkened sky, rising from the cracks in the planet that look as though they’ve been torn open by a gods hands. You can feel the planet dying beneath your feet, you can feel its desperate call to the universe as it burns and burns and burns, swallowing itself whole. You focus on your breathing to block it out.

You fly down the catwalk, down the steps leading to the main floor, searching for one of the smaller transports. Workers part for you, letting you take your pick, knowing you take priority when it comes to evacuations. In the eyes of the Order, they are lesser, meant to be your stepping stones—but you’ve never seen it that way. You’ve never cared much for the hierarchy despite your favorable position within it.

You clamber into the transport, immediately shutting the ramp when BB-12 is safely inside and connects himself into the ships’ systems. You haphazardly slide into the pilots seat, flipping switches and pressing buttons with a near panicked efficiency. “Gods damn all of this,” you mutter to yourself. Although from the look of the base, it seems the gods have already done a good job of damming it all to hell.

The ship roars to life, engines purring and controls feeling sturdy within your palms. You shoot from the hangar, leaving the caving infrastructure of Starkiller Base behind and entering into the thick pine woods surrounding the territory. That’s where Kylo Ren is supposed to be. He left the base when this all started, chasing after some fresh faced Jedi girl and the traitorous Stormtrooper that decided to accompany her. It creates a strange uneasiness in you, wondering what state Kylo must be in to result in him having to be retrieved. Snoke better not have me going out here just to find a dead body.

“BB-12, activate life-form scanners.” You call back to the droid. He gives a robotic chirp in response and the scanners activate on a monitor to your left, the screen a jumble of different information. A sensor runs across a circle, beeping idly as it comes up with nothing. You curse, also hearing the alarms to your right as the ship warns you of dangerous surface level conditions as if you don’t already know about the planet splitting apart beneath you. It looks far worse from your place in the sky, fractures akin to spiderwebs forming and spitting lava that swallows chunks of earth and trees. You can see the specks of straggling Resistance fighters amongst the stars as they flee, shooting into hyperdrive and getting far, far away from this place.

Trying to find one man in an expanse of trees and snow and darkness and fire is going to be near impossible like this, you realize. Relying on sensors that are jammed from broken frequencies and a crumbling planet isn’t going to work. You sigh to yourself, straightening your back in your chair, flicking on autopilot, closing your eyes, and steadying your breathing. The destruction around you steadily fades as you descend into the Force, becoming merely background noise as you search for one thing in particular. Your Force combs through the planet below, running through the trees like a wolf on a hunt, sniffing, searching, chasing.

There.

A heartbeat, erratic and struggling, fighting to be heard amongst the wailing of the dying planet. Your eyes shoot open and your hands fly back to the controls, snapping the ship out of autopilot as you jerk to the right. You begin descending when the heartbeat gets louder, pounding in your ears. You ease towards the ground, crushing a few trees in the process and kicking up clouds of snow. You order BB-12 to stay on board as you lower the ramp.

Snow sucks at your ankles, it settles into your hair and bites at the exposed skin of your face. You’re sure there’s ash mixed in there—you can smell it in your nose and taste it on your tongue when you breathe in. You hurry forward, eager to get this all over with. You notice the signs of a struggle on the trees as you pass, burning gashes within the bark, branches sliced clean in half and charred at the ends. Lightsabers. There’s blood on the ground as well, standing out starkly against the white of the snow. This battle had not been a good one for either side.

Up ahead, you see something abnormal. A black form, laying lifelessly in the snow—and that’s when it hits you. You’re overwhelmed by feelings of rage and disappointment and grief and fear and blatant pain, coming to you in waves of violent flashes of color and creating an uncomfortable tenseness in your muscles. It’s suffocating and purely Dark.

Kylo is collapsed on his back, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, chest steadily rising and falling. At least this wasn’t a waste of my time, you think. You study him with disinterest, some sick sense of arrogance rising in you at the sight of him fallen on the ground, entirely at your mercy. You take note of the wounds littering his body, the most obvious being the massive gash that now lays across the left side of his face. It’s open and bleeding, smearing his skin red, running from his collarbone all the way up past his eyebrow, the edges cauterized and burnt black. A lightsaber wound, just like the ones within the trees. Part of you wishes you could’ve seen it, seen the slash that did this to him, see the girl that managed to do what you never could. You sense rather than see the other injuries on him, knowing he has quite a few and that they’re all causing him to lose an alarming amount of blood. He won’t last much longer out here, that’s for sure.

Leave him, a voice hisses from the darkest corners of your mind, the ones you try to ignore. You shake your head and ignore them now. Leaving him here would do nothing for you, your head would be on a spike just as soon as you abandon him.

You look past him to the cliff he’s laying on, the ground split perfectly through the middle, entirely isolating him from the way back to what was once the base. An ominous orange glow emits from the fissure, and you can feel the raging heat from where you stand. A tree crumbles right in front of you, the earth coming loose at another quiver of the planet and succumbing to the lava that swallows it in less than a second. That’ll be you soon if you don’t move it.

You grumble to yourself, glaring down at the man that’s the bane of your existence, and position your body. You grab at his arms first, the fabric of his robes wet with melted snow. You haul him up and sling him over your shoulders, nearly buckling under his weight. “Oh good fucking-“ you hiss, muscles bunching and straining. You knew he was dense but not that dense. You use the Force to help, taking off some of his brute weight and at least allowing yourself to walk.

You stumble back to the transport, your glower feeling like it’s permanently etched onto your face at this point. You move to the cargo hold where there’s a cushioned fold out table set into the wall. You gracelessly slide Kylo onto it, struggling for a second to get all his limbs in place and secure him in position. Without his weight on your back, you’re able to hurry to the pilot’s chair, the planet now rumbling more violently than it had before. Surveillance systems on the monitors are screaming at you, telling you to get the fuck out now. It doesn’t have to tell you twice. You prepare the hyperdrive, flying higher and higher into the sunless sky, the edges of it beginning to blur with bright blues and whites as you ascend into lightspeed. You’re shot far from the planet just as it finally gives in to the molten heat boiling in its core, a shockwave exploding from its center that rocks the ship and makes it beep in alarm.

You collapse in your seat, blowing a sigh out of your lips in relief. You scrub your hands over your face, the tips of your fingers cold from the snow. However, your relief isn’t allowed to last long as you hear movement behind you, turning the chair to see Kylo suddenly back in the world of the living, trying to get up and off the table. You can almost feel the way that each shift of his face or neck pulls unpleasantly at that gash, birthing a searing pain that’s so acute it’s nauseating.

“Stop-“ you say, getting up and out of the pilots chair, “stop moving. You’ll only make it worse.”

His eyes snap to you, only now noticing that you’re there, deep brown irises dark with a swirl of unpleasant emotions. His brows furrow, despite the way it pulls on the wound, as if he wants it to hurt more. Portions of his hair are plastered to his forehead and cheeks, both from melted snow and blood, his skin is clammy and pale, making him look entirely disheveled and nothing like the Commander he usually does. There’s a shame that’s rising in him, brewing like a storm. Shame that you’re seeing him like this, shame at the fact he lost—shame that’s going to quickly boil into anger. “Why are you here?” He demands, his voice low and holding a wild uneasiness. He’s vulnerable and he’s weak, two of the worst things to be when you’re in the First Order. It makes him as volatile and dangerous as an injured animal.

“I was ordered to retrieve you before you imploded with the planet.” You say roughly, immediately on the defensive. “We’ll be returning to the Finalizer and then moving to the Supremacy under Snoke’s command. He told me we had further training to complete.”

There’s a confusion that flashes across Kylo’s face, but it’s brief as you sense his consciousness shift drastically like an uneven scale, his body slumping against his will. His head smacks back against the cold metal wall, eyelids fluttering weakly, shallow breath passing desperately between parted lips. His left hand clutches at the cushions beneath him, though it’s an absent action—he doesn’t know what he’s holding on to, or why he’s doing it, only that if he doesn’t, he thinks he’ll lose his last anchor on whatever’s keeping him together. The adrenaline in his body has fully run out at this point, nothing left to keep the blood-loss and debilitating pain at bay, and now it’s hitting him at full force. You can only imagine the wave of nausea that’s probably rolling through him, creating an awful sinking feeling in the gut.

There’s panic that rises in you at the way his condition has worsened so quickly, and you hurry to dig through the deeper part of the cargo hold to pull out the standard issue first aid kit. “BB-12, open your storage port.” You snap, the droid detaching himself from the ship’s systems to follow your orders. A compartment in his front clicks open, revealing a small assortment of materials you keep hidden within your companion. You pull out a syringe, a can of ointment, and a bag of pills—all things you definitely shouldn’t have but stole anyway. “Send an alert to the Finalizer, an urgent order for medics at the ready on my return.”

BB-12 leaves you be to assess the situation before you: a gravely injured man that’s very possibly on the cusp of dying under your watch. There’s five injuries of note; the one on his face, a clean gash on his right shoulder, the jab of a saber on his left, the blaster shot in his side, and a cut along his left leg. You grit your teeth, channeling every bit of medical practice you’ve gotten from Jaharah—your fleet’s medic—and from the base training every officer receives. Keep your hands from shaking, focus on stopping the blood, clean the wound, do what you can. Don’t let him die. If he dies, it would definitely mean your own demise at the hands of Snoke, so there’s plenty weighing on you here to keep you focused.

You move for the syringe first, biting off the cap of the needle and going to move down the collar of his padded armor. In his agony-filled haze, he reaches his hand up and grasps at your wrist, his hold weak and weightless. His fingers are freezing, even beneath his gloves, a result of an onset of hypothermia. He mutters half-coherent phrases like don’t and leave me, but you ignore them and shake him off. You and him share a similarity in the way you’re both so vehemently against any sort of pain relief, whether it be as a result of training or some sort of masochism, you’re not sure. But you remember all those years back when you were all alone and dealing with your own gruesome wounds, trying so desperately to stave the blood, to keep it from hurting as badly as it did. You remember wishing for something, anything, to make the pain go away but never being given the relief. You’re sure he’s feeling the same now. So you stick the needle into the taut skin of his neck and shove two pills into his mouth, forcing him to swallow.

A low groan leaves him, his head slumping, fresh sweat beading along his hairline. “If you die on me I’ll be so fucking pissed with you.” You hiss, mostly to yourself since you doubt he can hear much of anything now anyway. He’s still with you, just barely, and you feel his anger rolling off him in waves. He probably wants nothing more than to throw you out of an air lock and into the cold vacuum of space. You move to focus on the wound that’s eaten into his side, too deep to have cauterized enough to stop the worst of the bleeding. You struggle to pull back the burnt layers of his uniform to see the injury, quickly resorting to just cutting it away with the scissors in the first aid kit. It’s bad, of course, with just the outer edges of the wound black, the rest a throbbing, oozing red. You grab the gauze and coat it in the ointment: a highly potent healing salve that’s meant to help with different kinds of system regeneration and pain relief—and a salve that’s nearly impossible to find or make nowadays, hence why you keep a secret stash. He better be grateful that I’m using what little I have on him.

You press the gauze to the wound, blood almost immediately soaking through and staining your palm. You add more and then put a wrap around it all to keep it in place. The others aren’t as bad, being simply surface level injuries from a lightsaber, so you instead focus on the awful wound on his face. You haven’t seen a wound this horrid on someone else in a good few years. You take your clean hand and place it against the top of his head, using it as a sort of direction control, tilting his head back. He keeps silent, the only evidence of his discomfort being the stuttering of his breath and the twitch of his good eye.

The sedatives and pain relievers have kicked in by now, evident from the slight release of tension in his shoulders, how he’s not trying to fight you despite him regaining consciousness, and the way his suffering is no longer suffocating the Force around you. You begin to clean around the wound, your faces so close together it’d be considered invasive in any other circumstance. The space is silent except for the sound of your mixed breathing, the smell of blood and burnt flesh assaulting your nose with each inhale.

You try to be gentle with your work, but pulls on the gash are inevitable, and you see his hands clench out of the corner of your eye each time. There’s also the occasional flicker of the lights as his Force shoots out from him since he’s unable to keep control on it in this state, and so it’s taking his anger and pain out on the things around him, thankfully avoiding you in the process. You move down his face, down his neck, and to his shoulder where you have to cut away more of his uniform. The wound doesn’t get any better until it finally cuts off just below his collarbone, and it gives you a feeling of relief, like a light at the end of a tunnel. You clean as much of the blood as you can, then layer on ointment and gauze. You gather a general sense of his condition with your Force, digging deeper than the surface which is now unbelievably easy with him in a weakened state, unable to put up as many walls against your prodding. The ones he does have up are weak and simple to bring down. You almost feel bad… almost. The salve is doing it’s work, trying so desperately to start the regeneration process in a desolate environment, but it’s doing a good job of easing his pain and bringing him steadily away from death’s doorstep. You begin to clean the remaining injuries until there’s urgent beeping at the control panel, drawing your attention.

You huff, straightening yourself. Kylo’s stable enough to where you could leave him to see whatever’s causing the disturbance, but it still makes you uneasy. You unclip your cloak, rolling it into an odd shape and putting it at one end of the table. You then ease him onto his back, idly feeling the warmth of his body beneath the layers, his head lying against your cloak. “Rest,” you order, “we’ll be back to the main ship soon, so you can get proper medical attention.”

His dark eyes watch you as you move to leave, his face drawn into a tired neutrality. “You did a good job.” His words are quiet, weak, but they make you stop regardless. There’s something else he wanted to say that he kept to himself, something he’s quickly hid away so you can’t access it. You feel some mixed emotions with a lingering sense of gratitude he’s trying to beat down, creating a weird feeling of embarrassment in him.

You don’t look at him, but the slight rise of your shoulders is enough. You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

You enter the cockpit—the beeping having not stopped—and slump into the chair. The blood staining your hands smears across the control panel as you mess with it, trying to receive whatever message is trying to come in. The radio communicator buzzes to life. “There you are, finally.” Hux. “I was beginning to wonder if your transport was an empty carrier.”

The muscles in your jaw tense automatically, words bitten through your teeth. “Do you have something important to say, Hux?”

“Did you manage to retrieve Commander Ren?” He asks, annoying voice made more annoying by the crackling of the comms.

A small growl builds at the base of your throat at his tone, like he doubted you were going to be able to succeed. There’s a reason the task was entrusted to you and not him, and it’d do him good to remember that. “Yes, I did. We almost didn’t make it before your little project ate itself alive. Really great job, by the way.” You know that has the general seething, you can practically see the way his nostrils would flare and his eyes widen in your mind. Starkiller has become both the height and ultimate failure of his career, and you’re just digging bloody fingers into his open wound. “Did the Fleet members on the base make it back?”

Now it’s Hux’s turn to bite his words. “No need to worry, General, all your friends made it back in one piece. I would suggest you hurry back to the Finalizer, there’s much to be done.” And then he’s gone, the communicator clicking off.

“Stupid bastard.” You spit.

You glance back at Kylo, a black mass laying on a fold-out table far too small for someone his size, his eyes closed. It makes another spike of panic spear through your chest, wondering if he died when you turned your back for just a moment, but a brief reach with the Force has you relaxing. He’s just fine—well, as fine as he can be in a state like that: covered in gauze, sedated to hell, bleeding, trying not to aggravate the wounds by moving. You study him for a second longer before turning back to the control panel, the Finalizer coming into frame along the upper edge of the glass paneling of the viewport. There’s a sense of foreboding that comes along with the appearance of the massive flagship, one that has you steeling yourself and sitting up a little straighter.

It seems one chapter has just ended and another one is just beginning.

[pookalicious-hq]

Paige Bueckers x reader (Preview)

Lmk if you're liking this idea... sorta enemies (one sided) to lovers Paige Bueckers x Uconnwbb!Reader (lmao and for fun purposes totally making readers ex gf ellie williams)

title (maybe??): Your Best American Girl

--------

Anyone would have sold their soul to be (Y/n) (L/n) in 2020, but she wanted to be someone else.

Her senior year of high school, (Y/n) led her team to their first State Championship in over a decade. The whistle blew at the end of double overtime, and she walked off the court with a triple-double, along with her career-high of 41 points. 

But looking at the scoreboard, she was two points behind, one shot behind, and in second place. 

(Y/n) wouldn’t settle for less than first place in anything. It's not that she was competitive, just that she had so much to prove, that which came second hand with always getting first place.

The day after their loss, she was listed behind Paige Bueckers in second place among the class of 2020 high school recruits. 

Never in her life had she envied one person as she did in that moment.

_____________________

ESPN - May 5th, 2023

The recent news of (Y/n) (L/n)'s decision to enter the transfer portal in the NCAA women's basketball has sent shockwaves through the sports community. (L/n), a standout student-athlete, captured the hearts of fans nationwide with her remarkable performance in last season's March Madness. Despite her exceptional talent and single-handed efforts, her team fell short in the Elite Eight against UConn Women's Basketball, marking a bitter end to their journey. Now, with (Y/n) poised to switch schools, anticipation mounts as enthusiasts eagerly await her next move, wondering how her departure will reshape the landscape of collegiate basketball.

_____________________

[thelavendrhaze]

fic: king of my heart

author: wildestdreams

rating: explicit

word count: 83.7k

Harry shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Louis���. “I think since I was young, I craved that feeling, though. I didn’t always hate being a prince, but over time, certain aspects of it just bothered me so much. I remember being four years old and realising that every person in the world knew my name, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted that. I told my mum as much and she tried telling me that being a prince is not a punishment. That it was a privilege that I should be happy about it, but no one asked me if I was. But looking up at the sky, I remember that all of this will one day mean nothing, and neither will I. All the pressure will then disappear and I could just be.”

Louis stayed quiet, allowing Harry the space to open up because he knew Harry wasn’t looking for advice, but just someone to confide in. What he wished he could tell him was that in the short amount of time that he’d known the prince, in Louis’ eyes, he couldn’t be insignificant if he tried. He was brighter than every star up there in the sky. He was all Louis could look at and think about. 

or

A Red, White, and Royal Blue AU where Hollywood elite, Louis Tomlinson, finds himself falling for the closeted Prince of England.

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven / chapter eight / chapter nine / chapter ten / chapter eleven / chapter twelve / chapter thirteen / chapter fourteen

fic page / wattpad / twitter / playlist

[hyunverse]

𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 (𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦), a royalty au collab.

a stray kids ot8 royal au collaboration between @dumplinbokkieracha , @luvrhyune , @hwajin , @hyunverse , @strayingawayy , @milkybonya , @starlostseungmin and @sunboki .

in a land far away, a kingdom stands proud — you, the crown heir. eight endings await — 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𖤠

subscribe to the 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 and choose your ending.ᐟ

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ☆ 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍.

bang chan ending . . . written by @dumplinbokkieracha !

coming soon...

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ☆ 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖.

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 by @luvrhyune !

⤿ summary: lee minho, a man you couldn't escape from, no matter how hard you tried. ⤿ pairing: royal adviser! minho x afab! royal! reader. coming soon...

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ☆ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍.

𝐌𝐄𝐙𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 by @hwajin !

⤿ pairing: knight!changbin x afab!princess!reader out now!

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ☆ 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎 & 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐓 by @hyunverse !

⤿ summary: “you and i, we're made of tragedy — we're star-crossed. we're not meant to be.” meeting the elite portrait maker, hwang hyunjin, is both the best and worst thing to have ever happened to you. inspired by shakespeare's romeo and juliet. ⤿ pairing: portrait maker! hyunjin x afab royal! reader. gender neutral pronouns used. ⤿ playlist ⤿ tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst. cocky hyunjin. coming soon...

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ☆ 𝐇𝐀𝐍.

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎 by @strayingawayy !

⤿ summary: “i will not ask you where you came from, i will not ask you, neither should you. honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do” ⤿ moodboard. out now!

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ☆ 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗.

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐙𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 by @milkybonya !

⤿ summary: “just pick the time, i'm down, i always do.” out now!

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ☆ 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍.

𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 by @starlostseungmin !

⤿ summary: “i am yours even if this is meant to be a loveless marriage between us. no feelings involved, just politics.” — it started with a diplomatic agreement between two kingdoms to stop a war but ended up cascading to a love-driven affinity. ⤿ playlist out now!

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ☆ 𝐈.𝐍.

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 by @sunboki !

⤿ summary: Despite the twists and turns in Iredal Castle, the only world you lived in was a world with Jeongin in it. Once the Healer’s apprentice, now the Healer himself, Jeongin has always been right beside you; tending to you endlessly and in turn, becoming close friends. Perhaps more in the castle’s corners. Except the Royals disregard you, and when you ask Jeongin to run away together, he denies. In turn, you leave on your own and begin working at a pottery shop in the villages, sending him abundant letters. Eventually though he stops replying and you assume he’s simply forgot about you, until he walks into the shop. ⤿ pairing: healer! yang jeongin x f. reader ⤿ genre: royalty! au, angst, suggestive(no intercourse), bittersweet, coincidences, childhood best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers if you squint. out now!

[sitp-recs]

Can you do "Harry takes care of Draco" too? 👀 (and if I may rec a rec, pls include Let's Pretend the War Is Over by pir8fancier)

I’m sorry for the late reply, anon! Oh love me some pir8fancier, a great (and imo underrated) author. Here are some other recs for this trope, some of my all-time favorites here:

Let's Pretend the War Is Over by pir8fancier (M, 8k)

The war is over and Draco is alone, fighting demons of a different nature. This is obviously an AU by now. Written after "The Half-Blood Prince" came out.

Between Myth and Man by @slytherco (E, 16k)

Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning.

Savage by marguerite_26 (E, 18k)

In a post-war world that lives in fear and ignorance of werewolves, Draco Malfoy has taken every step to keep his condition hidden. When the delicate balance of his life shatters in a single moment, it is Harry Potter alone standing in his defence.

Strange Bedfellows by ravenclawsquill (E, 30k)

When Harry encounters a frail and fidgety Draco Malfoy at the Ministry, he just knows something is wrong and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

Inside Your Mind by @lazywonderlvnd (E, 36k)

Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse.

The Sinner’s Redemption by oldenuf2nb (E, 55k)

When Headmaster, Harry Potter, loses his Potions Professor - is he willing to fight the system to employ the one person he knows will excel in the position?

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

There Is Always the Moon by @firethesound (T, 159k)

Draco's life after the war is everything he wanted it to be: it's simple, and quiet, and predictable, and safe. But when a mysterious curse shatters the peace he'd worked so hard to build, there's only one person he can trust to help him. After all, Harry Potter has saved his life before. Now Draco has to believe that Potter will be able to do it one more time.

Number Seven by sara_holmes (M, 253k)

Harry already has small children, an ex-wife, annoying colleagues and an international crime ring to deal with. So when Draco Malfoy reappears after eight years AWOL in France, of course Harry is going to leave him well alone...Right?

[aeroblossom]

i know we're one archon off just enough to make the eight gym leaders in a pokemon au, but consider another approach: the archons as champions ft. some story ideas, i put a concerning amount of thought into this --

mondstadt champion venti (flying • fairy) is fought in secret, since no one can guess he's the champion. the mondstadt elite four are eula (ice • dark), klee (fire • fairy), jean (flying • grass) and finally diluc (fire • flying). venti is friends with celebi - as is nahida - and istaroth manifests as dialga. albedo is kind of like the professor for mondstadt, sucrose gives you your pokedex :] durin is yveltal. dvalin is rayquaza. no one knows about it, but kaeya is friends with articuno.

rhinedottir explores the abyss which is basically the genshin equivalent of the distortion world headed by giratina, aided by her signature hydreigon. dragonspine is our mt silver lol. alice has a delphox (klee has a fennekin) and mismagius. barbeloth, of the hexenzirkel, has a xatu. albedo has a garchomp. for some reason, i picture nicole with hatterene. mona has a cosmog!

zhongli is similar (rock • dragon). the order is hu tao (fire • ghost), yelan (water • dark), ganyu (ice • fairy) and finally xiao (flying • dark). childe boss, but he has like three typings - (water • dark)/(electric • dark)/(electric • water). he has a wailord and probably attempts to fight kyogre with his bare hands in fontaine. oh and his foul legacy is from palkia. the adepti are like pokemon rangers btw! and guizhong, after her death, appears also as a cosmog maybe? xiao has an absol, ganyu has suicune, hu tao has trevenant and spiritomb. azhdaha is groudon guys i'm sorry. ningguang is our professor archetype for liyue, and the pokedex is delivered by keqing on the orders of ningguang.

inazuma has two champions - one as the raiden shogun puppet (electric • steel), and one as ei herself (electric • fighting). ayaka (ice • steel), then kazuha (flying • steel) - but he gets exiled, and is replaced by ayato (water • steel). followed by kokomi (water • dragon), and finally yae miko (electric • fairy). yae miko has ninetales and zoroark, kokomi has milotic and nihilego! yes i know that's an ultra beast shhh. professor trope is yae miko, and you have to smuggle your confiscated pokedex with yoimiya and sayu's help.

sumeru champion nahida (grass • psychic), who is heeded by wanderer (flying • dark) as her deputy. wanderer is like n from pkmnbw, you fight him instead of the champion, the pseudo-champion. btw his signature would be a mega evolving banette. the first elite four member is dehya (fighting • fire), followed by cyno (electric • dark), then nilou (water • grass) who was recently appointed! and finally alhaitham (grass • flying). nilou's position used to be tighnari's (grass • poison) but since he left the akademiya, nilou took it. dehya has a female pyroar, nilou has lilligant. nahida and venti are familiars to celebi and the two formes of shaymin! rukkhadevata manifests as xerneas. apep is zygarde lol. token professor looks to be tighnari, but is really just nahida, and collei gives it to you.

for fontaine, i imagine furina (water • fairy) as the champion who sacrifices her position - and her life - so there's no seat of champion left. she later adopts the (water • dark) typing. the fontaine elite four is fought in this order: navia (rock • dark), wriothesley (ice • fighting), clorinde (electric • steel), and finally neuvillette himself (water • dragon OBVIOUSLY). alternatively, neuvillette assumes champion position and his seat as last member of elite four is supplanted by arlecchino (fire • dark)! neuvillette has a dragonair and is a familiar to kyogre, furina has lapras and manaphy/phione, arlecchino has a houndoom. additionally, lyney (fire • dark), lynette (flying • dark) and freminet (ice • steel) fight for arlecchino. ooh but imagine if they get ahold of latios and latias somehow, and use those to fight you! their signatures are gardevoir (lyney) and gallade (lynette) other than a pair of meowstic, and freminet has an empoleon as well as an espurr. sigewinne has a signature azumarill, and she's the professor! the pokedex you were meant to receive falls in the water, so freminet fishes it out for you.

[wildcardjoey]

Anita jean!

ANITAT JEAN!!!

Alright so the Little Wren AU is basically just 'Bruce manages to find Anita after she fakes her death' and she actually does become his first sidekick. She isn't a fighter, Bruce puts her under three layers of armor, and she basically fills a mage and healer role with first aid (mostly for civilians and criminals) and the virtual reality gas drug, the use of which allows batman to remain a cryptid for far longer.

Anita also takes longer to get the hang of grappling hooks because she's less coordinated than even Tim but she does get them probably not too long after Dick comes to the manner since the two can train together. Her inability to use grappling hooks when she first enters the field is why The Whirly-Bat was made, named The Hummingbird in this au because it's Anita's and was named before Dick was adopted into the family and took a bat-gimmick to every piece of equipment in the cave. Before he joined the team, Bruce and Anita were work shopping names for a lot of their stuff but hadn't come to decisions for most of them, so Dick still gets to do that, but not for Anita's Hummingbird.

Rather than the dynamic duo, this au has either a tritastic trio of Batman, Wren, and Robin, or the dynamic duo is seen as Wren and Robin, as Batman's sidekicks. When Tim ends up at the manner, Anita basically tells him he's too tactical to be Robin and gives him the Wren mantle, which she either had already left behind or was in the process of considering it. Steph ends ends up becoming his paired Robin, for much longer than Canon.

Steph initiating that plan that required Matches Malone probably still happens, but with Anita's help she's able to salvage it, but it opens up an entirely new set of problems because at that point Anita was already on the verge of discovering The Court of Owls (because their one give away was a nursery rhyme and she wanted to find out it's origin because it's her hobby) and now The Court sees the bat clan take control of the city basically in it's entirety so those two things combined make The Court release the elite talons. A temporary alliance with The League of Assassins and the timely first arrival of Cass in the city means they just barely manage to win. This is also the family's first introduction to Damian and a recently resurrected Jason is probably also there, but dressed like the rest of the assassins so he isn't recognized.

Anita herself, which is what this au is actually about, is going to be depicted as better adjusted due to not living her life since she was, like, eight alone and eventually dedicated to revenge. She has hyperfixations on birds, nursery rhymes, programming, and tech and is an excellent detective. I already mentioned she's less coordinated starting out but that doesn't mean she's weak, she'd probably be able to beat Dick in a fight when he first gets to the manor since he's at that point just a gymnast but she's been training as a martial artist for like six months at that point.

Speaking of Dick, I really look forward to writing their banter. They are going to be so sassy to each other but very protective of each other. Almost as much as they're both protective of every one younger siblings, which, and seeing some of your posts this may be disappointing, isn't going to be terribly long. Finding a way to fit every obscure batfam character in is for my other dc au, the same one that my ruleset for Claire's powers is for, but I do have Calvin, Charlie, and and Dana (Talon, Misfit, and Strike) as sure-shows for Little Wren.

Long-Term, the au's story-arc will focus on the eventual take down of The Parliament of Owls as the main antagonists, as it feels fitting for an Anita Jean focused story for previously stated Nursery Rhyme related reasons, although I do also plan for The League to be taken down due to Tim still having his globetrotting adventure and then the batfam actually capitalizing on it.

Edit for Addendum: the first paragraph makes it sound like Anita never fights, I should clarify that her role on the team does evolve as she gets older and Bruce becomes more lenient.

[totothewolff]

Grand Prix Elite Academy (1/10)

+18 | professor!Toto x reader fem!student, sewis, carlos x reader, collegue au | romance, smut, comedy, gossip, betray

Summary: Your life turns 180 degrees after receiving your acceptance letter for the Grand Prix Elite Academy, the most exclusive and prestigious Formula One College, designed to shape the future drivers of the motorsport world. You will try to navigate your new life among the Monaco elites, survive the campus dynamics and rivalries between the faculties, and try to win this year's Elite Cup to beat an undefeated Mercedes, all while befriending your eclectic classmates, join the wild parties, have a couple of make-outs under the racing circuit benches, lose your v-card and get over that stupid crush you have on professor Toto. Will you make it alive to graduation? Race to Greatness! Author's note: This is a Formula One college AU fic set in an elite academy in Monaco, where the F1 Teams are Faculties, their Team Principals are professors, the FIA is the college board, and all the grid drivers are your classmates. You are accepted under a scholarship program called WomenOne and have lots to catch on to after years of putting your racing dreams on hold. Becoming the outcast new girl is always challenging, especially when all of you live on one campus.

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Chapter 1: Hi, Society

"Everyone who lives in Monaco is filthy rich."

Well, that's a half-lie that people say; the working class also lives there - and the families of the people who work for the rich - just on the outskirts of town near the border with France. 

Yours is one of those: a middle-class family of three (you, dad, and your dog). So, a chunk of your day goes to commuting downtown to attend school and help with the auto parts shop, your family-run business.

You had the misfortune (now you call it that!) to have been raised by a hardcore motorsports madman in what you consider one of the most F1 households of all time in the most F1 city in the world. 

That madman is your dad, a middle-aged man who is apparently good-looking (judging by the attention he gets from female customers; okay, he is in shape; you get that part) but has remained single for the longest time.

He is a hard-working mechanic who invested all his inheritance in opening an automobile repair shop and a twin business, an auto parts and components store located on the same street, which seems logical. 

You are one of those households that loves everything related to cars and motorsports, a trait you inherited in your cells from birth.

Yes, yes, you are a "daddy's girl." It's embarrassing, but he's your hero.

Thanks to him, you were that "weird" little girl at elementary school who could name all the parts of a car's engine and their exact functions. By high school, you could explain the mechanics and physics behind a motor, and you were able to repair and customize cars and motorbikes by your senior years. 

-

Daydreaming was a fundamental part of your childhood and still is, but nowadays, the therapist calls it MaDD or trauma coping. 

Back in the day, you loved sneaking into the driver's seat of any expensive sports car the clients took to the workshop for repair. You imagined it morphing into a racing car as you drove it to high speeds on a race track. 

Of course, you always ended up winning the Grand Prix! And that fantasy lasted until either one of the mechanics or your dad got you out of the unit.

-

By the time you turned eight, your family made an effort to take you karting. It's costly, way more complex than you expected, and also heavy on the body!

You always ended up exhausted after practice or racing, but you didn't care because you were killing the game, impressing people along the way, and winning piles of trophies!

After several years of success, you got sponsored and made it to Formula Renault, where you winning was also a regular thing.

Then, you continued to Formula 4, where you started to succeed, too. By that point, you were utterly invested in your racing career, working hard to make your dream come true and make your parents proud.

But that sad September, your mom got sick. 

-

After her passing, nothing was quite the same, and your racing dreams got buried along with her, leaving you and your dad an emotional and financial wreck, with a lot of debt in the bank due to her treatments.

-

"Time heals everything," 

That's another half-lie people tell. 

You never get over a loss of that kind, but you learn to live your life the best way possible and try to find joy after it.

-

So, as you go through your teen years, you feel as if your life is starting over, as someone else has lived your past.

You choose to help more with the family business after noticing your father is tired and stressed every day and wanting to be there for him.

You take full responsibility for running the auto parts and components store. After school, you go there, and that's where you practically live. 

The shop is in an old part of town; it used to be a cheap neighborhood, but it's not anymore, still not the most luxurious town area, but the location is excellent. 

As the business grew, the shop underwent several remodels - more like improvements - made by your uncle Marco (your late mom's brother), your godfather, who works in construction.

The store is now bright, clean, and organized. It has tall white walls with blue accents (the ones you helped paint), a neat grey polished concrete floor where you can almost watch your reflection, and pendant lights in the ceiling over the aisles full of product racks. Several pennants and large posters give the place character. 

Most of the time, you are behind the long counter with the cashier and computer by the entrance, where you run the stock, attend customer payments, do your homework, and watch Netflix (on slow days).

Next to you is always your dog - with his bed and bowl - and behind you is an entire wall of shelves with premium products.

The store's most recent and exciting acquisition is a new set of automatic slide doors and a large welcoming rug with the business logo. 

God! How boring is your life?!

Still, you are grateful for those; before that, on busy days, you wanted to tear your ears off at the nonstop sound of the bell atop the door.

The store is at the corner of the street, and the large workshop is two buildings away across the road. 

Both are different from your usual mechanic's spots; yes, there is still oil in some parts, but this is Monaco, after all! If you want to attract clients in this city, you must look nice.

Your dad lives and breathes at the workshop. 

Your household is one of those that leaves the family home very early in the morning and returns at night to sleep. 

-

As things get financially healthier again, your dad and godfather work hard to renovate the shop's attic slash old storage space into a tiny apartment for you.

It's a simple but cozy open-floor concept: a one-bedroom with a kitchenette and counter bar for two stools, a sitting area with a bulky love seat and a TV.

Your desk is next to the bay window facing the street, which offers a sky view, making this your favorite spot to study. 

A queen-size bed with a nightstand completes the space, along with the door leading to the world's tiniest bathroom. 

You love this rabbit hole so much. 

Your dad and godfather allowed you to choose the style of decor and furniture (you went for minimal and boho), and now you love this place more than your actual home (a more spacious two-and-a-half-bedroom apartment with a small balcony nearer the mountains).

-

As you grow older and reach legal age, you start doing everything at the shop by yourself, saving the money spent on extra hands. 

From cleaning to stock control, acting like a sales lady and the store influencer, posting social media content, updating the website once you convinced your dad to sell online, and taking care of your dog, now the business mascot.

People love him! He always gets pats on the head from customers, and some return just for him. He is a lazy old basset hound named "Diesel."

You must ensure that Diesel wears his bandana with the shop's logo daily, as it is his official employee uniform. He is your childhood dog, and the idea of losing him makes you anxious.

-

By this point in your life, you speak fluent "mechanic" which should be considered an entire language, thanks to growing up surrounded by them.

Depending on the photo, you may smile or laugh when you open your childhood photo albums. 

There are many pictures from your birthday parties held at the workshop. In them, you appear surrounded by alpha males with tattoos, beards, and muscles wearing girly birthday props as you blow the candles off a Barbie-inspired cake or whatever was trendy with girls back then, with the entire place usually decorated in glittery pink party decor. 

That's your life in a nutshell.

-

Nowadays, since you are a full-grown woman in their eyes, they act overprotective of you, especially when a boy your age tries to flirt with you while buying something with their parent's credit card. 

But they get it so wrong! You don't recall when or how, but you started to get attracted to men, not boys, older men. 

That middle-aged group of guys that make you beg, "Please run me over with your sports car," as you stare at them driving as they pass across the store's big windows facing the street. 

You love the roaring sound of the engine, but you love the view of the handsome man driving it even more. 

Still, it's just a fantasy; those guys are completely out of your league, and well, you haven't had a social life, not even a suitor in all these years, and you have never had a boyfriend. Maybe it's your shy nature or your looks that you feel so insecure about.

-

In the last couple of days before graduation, many universities show up to promote their college programs in a sort of Open Day. 

You avoid the Grand Prix Elite Academy people like they have the plague, knowing that's a dream you can't afford. 

And they know it, too! 

You can tell by the look the extremely hot model-looking Student Affairs ladies give you when you succumb to the temptation to get closer to their stand.

You nervously step in front of them without saying a word and leave after they rudely and unwantedly hand you a brochure with all the information about the program, tuition, and more.

They both look annoyed at their employers for making them attend a school without potential clients.

-

You remove your shoes and drop your backpack on the floor when you arrive at your loft. As you get cozy on the bulky, puffy couch, you muster the courage to read the brochure.

"Grand Prix Elite Academy is the ultimate path to success in the world of motorsports.

Our program is an exclusive Formula One college degree designed for aspiring drivers who dream of pursuing a career in professional racing. 

This program offers unparalleled training and mentorship from seasoned professionals, personalized coaching from world-class racing experts, access to state-of-the-art facilities and cutting-edge simulators, and networking opportunities with industry leaders. 

This degree aims to cultivate the skills and mindsets of future champions. It's the ultimate platform for developing the aptitudes, knowledge, and connections necessary to reach the pinnacle of motorsports.

Drive to Greatness. Race with us."

After reading the entire brochure a hundred times and eyeing all the pictures, subjects, and prices attached, you can't help but cry until you fall asleep.

-

After several texts to your number, getting no reply, and two missed phone calls, your dad goes up to the shop's loft to look for you, now worried. 

The day is over, and you two should head home soon to avoid traffic. He always texts you when it's time to leave, and you rush down to the shop's exit to get in the car.

As he approaches the sofa to wake you up, he notices the GPEA brochure on the floor next to you and places it inside his leather satchel. 

He doesn't mention anything to you about it at dinner or later.

-

The summer break begins, and soon, you will become a college freshman. 

You applied for several engineering college programs within your budget, in town, or nearby. 

You still want to work at Formula One, and if you can't get a driver's seat, you aim for a team's chair.

-

You have been nervous the entire week, knowing the acceptance letters will soon arrive. You are crossing your fingers they aren't rejection ones. 

You get accepted in three out of four!

A part of you expected a positive outcome since you have always been a nerd with good grades; plus, you felt you scored the admission tests and nailed the interviews.

However, when the postman appears at the store again, you look at him perplexed as he hands you a fancy and unexpected additional envelope. 

It's good your dad is having lunch with you at the counter at that exact moment to clarify your doubts.

—What is this?! —your voice goes all high as you walk fast and nervously to him, showing him the Grand Prix Elite Academy logo stamp on the envelope.

—Listen, don't get mad at me —your dad puts down the fork and stops eating for a moment to face you. —Wait to get your hopes up high yet —He starts to calm you down, noticing how you are hyperventilating now. —Read it first.

—WHAT?!!

—Y/N, breathe, easy...

You tear the envelope with shaky hands and quickly scan the letter's content.

—AH! —a funny scream comes out of your mouth, and you look at your dad with wide eyes before pushing him into a tight hug, a bit brusquely. —I GOT IN! I GOT THIS YEAR'S SCHOLARSHIP!! —you fucking can't believe it. —BUT HOW!?!!

—I applied for you, well, I pretended to be you; I disliked being an annoying girl —he rolls his eyes at you, joking. —After that, I sent the board an email explaining our situation; as your father now obviously —he looks a bit embarrassed at his confession. —It's good that I documented your entire and promising racing career. I know how important this is for you. I'm sorry that we cannot afford it on our own. I know you have the talent and deserve that scholarship more than anyone! Thank God they went all charity on your ass!

You laugh, and happy tears run down your face. Your dad hasn't seen you this happy, not since mom...

—OH GOD!

—What?! —your dad's heart skips at your words.

—It says I must register ASAP for the virtual classroom since I didn't attend the in-person summer program. Jesus! I just got in, and I'm already behind! —you rush to the computer, and before logging in, you say: —Dad, I love you; you have nothing to apologize for!

-

As the countdown to the start of the academic year goes on, your nervousness levels increase. 

You get more hysteric each day, and your dad already regrets his actions.

Billions of thoughts cross your mind daily: What if they don't like me? What if I end up failing? Am I good enough? What I'm going to wear? This attire list is so pretentious. What's a smart-casual look? I don't own any gowns! 

OH GOD!

-

A heavy box arrives at the shop by mail. 

It's your welcome package to the academy. Inside, you find a gorgeous and expensive-looking varsity jacket, the college's cashmere sweater, and many more branded items. 

It also contains an extensive list of things you need to do before the start of the year, instructions for your first day, and a textbook of rules. 

Your scholarship sponsor is WomanOne, which supports girls around the globe in completing their college degrees. 

You feel so empowered that you swear to do your best and conquer the game! 

Your grades and performance are crucial for them, so you must win the most Elite Cup races you can.

-

Two days later, another envelope arrives; this time is an invitation for the Homecoming Gala; the paper feels fancy as fuck! 

The event is scheduled two nights before the start of the course, and it's mandatory, which you find hilarious. 

You have never been obliged to attend a fancy party before.

-

A few days later, a push notification informs you you have two new DMs on the GPEA app (the official college app they requested you to download and register on). 

After filling out and completing the procedures to set up your profile for the driver's market, the Ferrari and Aston Martin principals want to interview you on the virtual platform since you now appear available to be picked or to apply for a faculty slot.

Shit is getting real!

-

—She looks too sweet for this brutal land; I hope she survives here —Lewis says as he leans closer to peek at Sebastian's iMac screen. 

They volunteered at the Student Affairs Department this year to obtain the mandatory extra credits. Well, Sebastian applied for the job and dragged Lewis along, as usual. 

As they both look at the student picture you upload on the platform; then, Seb starts to copy out your data to print your access badge.

—Is she on the market yet? 

—Yes. All the faculty principals have received her profile, but so far, only Ferrari and Aston have booked an interview with her. She applied to join the McLaren faculty, though.

—Interesting. So, no words from Zack?

—Not yet. You know how it is, my dear scholarship king. Y/N looks really promising. Are you feeling nervous about it? Now someone wants to take the full scholarship prodigy title away from you —Seb teases.

—By this rookie, you wish! —Lewis tenderly slaps Sebastian's face, a bit sexual still. —Everyone is after my titles anyway, as well as my sexy good looks. Are you feeling nervous about it?

—You wish! She doesn't have what I give you —it's Seb's turn to state; that light touch was enough to turn him on.

—Oh, please, could you remind me what you give me? —Lewis teases, a bit aroused.

—Oh, I can show you —Seb gets dangerously close to him, slowly pushing him against the office desk.

-

You are so grateful the full scholarship covers the on-campus living fee and secures you a dorm room. 

The GPEA is so far from your house that commuting there would be a nightmare. Thanks, Google Maps, for the info! 

Now you know you have to leave tomorrow with time to spare to be on time for the Homecoming Gala. 

That night, you struggle to fall asleep. It's the anxiety about tomorrow's party. You pray to God that somehow you fit in.

-

As the moonlight dances upon the glistening waters of Monaco's coastline, the college's luxury campus emerges with opulence. 

Tonight, the GPEA is hosting the most glamorous Gala to mark the commencement of a new school year; to your eyes, it's a scene of total excess and splendor. 

Nothing as you have seen before!

Party lights dance and illuminate the facades of the campus buildings, casting vibrant and cool designs on the walls.

The garden's magnificent palm trees sway gently under the warm Mediterranean breeze, their leaves aglow with the enchanting hues of the illuminations. 

The campus's modern architecture, a seamless blend of money and elegance, looks like an oasis adorned with meticulously manicured gardens, flowers, and fountains. 

The soft sound of water cascading brings a sense of tranquility amidst the muffled DJ's set music coming out of the celebration. 

As you are about to reach the building entrance, you notice the long parade of the most luxurious cars, gracefully chauffeuring guests who descend with elegance, sporting breathtaking gowns from renowned designers and dapper men wearing impeccably tailored tuxedo suits. 

-

This homecoming Gala looks straight out of Gossip Girl. 

As you step onto the red carpet, you can feel the electric buzz, radiating a contagious energy that sets the exhilarating tone for the party. 

It looks like it is going to be a wild night.

And you are correct. The clinking glasses of champagne get louder as the evening progresses, and the party ensues.

The crowd consists of beautiful, fit, and effortlessly stylish students exuding an air of confidence and superiority. 

Despite your striking look in a fancy dress, you can't shake the feeling of being an outsider among the elite.

-

As you move around in the ballroom with a glass in hand, you notice a figure that stands out: Toto Wolff, wearing an impeccably Brioni tuxedo and exuding charm and charisma. 

His striking features, towering height, and muscular body immediately command your attention. Your gaze draws towards him, entirely captivated by his physical features and confident presence among the sea of people. 

You can't help but stare at him; he is pure eye candy. 

"So, this is what genuine attraction feels like?" you think.

You go all red when you notice a stunning set of clear eyes are watching you, lusting for Toto.

—No worries. It's the usual reaction Toto gets. We've all been there, I guess. I'm Leandra de Vries! I'm a Ferrari somophore —a stunning, lean girl with legs for days and perfect hair greets you. 

Wow, that's having a face card! Her nose is to die for, and Jesus, those eyes! She looks tan, and her "gold" skin is silky and shiny. 

"I need to moisturize!" you think instantly, comparing yourself.

—I'm Y/N Y/LN —you quickly add. —That's a beautiful dress, Leandra!

—It's vintage Dior; they don't make them like this anymore —she shows you her breathtaking embroidered gown, extending her long, athletic leg. —You look good, even with that thing you are wearing! No offense; you better get used to these kinds of comments. Let's say this place requires thick skin; my advice: never take it personally.

—Oh, thanks, I guess?! —you both laugh.

—Is it from Zara? —Leandra comes closer to whisper to your ear, curious and disgusted at the time, but with comedic timing.

—Yes! —you answer, holding a giggle.

—Oh god! Please remind me to get you in my wardrobe; I have a couple of pieces you so desperately need —she smiles at you and intertwines her right arm with yours.

—Please! —you beg and smile at her.

—Let's walk around! —she invites you.

So far, you like Leandra. Although she may look like a mean girl, she is well-intended, empathic, and honest. She doesn't hold back, and that's your type of person.

She tells you she got transferred here from the Italy campus the year before - after her older brother passed away in that polemic crash at Monza, and because her parents wanted to start fresh, trying to run from what happened - she states it was tough for her to settle in and be accepted here. 

She also explains that the social circles here are very airtight, so she wants you to experience something other than what she went through.

—This place loves gossip, and you are the talk of the moment, "the charity baby who got the Lewis scholarship" —Leandra lets out like it was a bother, almost rolling her eyes while walking you to the bar area.

-

—So that's the new "Charity Baby"? She's cute!

—Where!? —Lando pops his head behind Oscar after his comment.

—There, with Leandra —he points.

—How does that woman get even hotter each year?! Fuck, she looks so fuckable in that dress! —Lando undresses Lea with his eyes.

—Getting an erection this early on? That's a new record for you —Max jokes, staring at him.

Leandra starts to lead you both in their direction. The group is gathered around the large velvet sofa in the fancy sitting area near the bar. 

When you two arrive at their side, you overhear George leading the conversation.

—She is still out of your league, mate —George mocks him. —But how did it go with Arabella?

—Oh, she was delicious; I fucked her in the gym's pool. Her ass feels terrific! —Lando lets them know the gossip.

—Arabella is the blonde with the great tits? —Max inquires.

—No, no, that's the Mercedes girl, the one I fucked in the library.

—And you also fucked the librarian.

—And the trainer's assistant.

—And the Human Resources lady.

Everyone keeps adding.

—Better be getting ready for Lando's disappointing dick game —Carlos jokes with you as soon as he notices you standing there in complete silence and addressing you for the first time.

Everyone turns their head towards you.

You go all red.

—I mean, if you want, I'm available tonight —Lando shoots his shot, shamelessly flirting with you and reaching for your hand.

—And welcome! —Sebastian jokes from a distance, comfy wrapped in Lewis's arms on the sofa.

—Lando, you fuck everything that breathes —Yuki states impressed.

—It's cus' I got dick game, to Carlos' jealousy.

Out of nowhere, you notice Lance standing right to your left. —I heard you are working class and got here under a full scholarship like Lewis did. Is that true?! —Lance inquires, curious and with a sweet voice, but his wording is not the best.

—Yes, I'm from a middle-class family —you shyly reply. —We own a car repair workshop, and I work there.

Lance's face looks amazed. Sebastian notices his and your expressions and doesn't waste time.

—Lance, you can't ask people that! You know some people work for a living? God, you are so out of touch! Excuse him —Seb joins in.

—Yeah, unlike you, the people's people —Lewis mocks Seb, pointing at him and roughly combing his hair, then Lewis gives you a "these guys" face and winks at you. —They don't mean it —Lewis lets you know. —Welcome, welcome! I'm L-

—Lewis Hamilton, yes, I know, you are a legend —you look at him in awe.

He is the only one who gets it, who gets you. 

He is as rare as you. His family famously worked their butts off to get him here before he got offered a full scholarship like yours and became the scholarship program and the GPEA prodigy. 

No one has won more trophies and cups in the history of the college than him.

Mercedes already hired him as their reserve driver and offered him a contract as the future of their F1 racing team, the most expensive deal ever for a rookie. They are just waiting for Michael to retire.

-

After lots of chatting, dancing, joking around, and getting to know a bit of everyone in that little group, Principal Zack reaches you. —Miss, Y/LN. Can we have a word, please?

—Of course! —you interrupt your conversation with Oscar and go to him.

After walking around and casually chitchatting a bit, he informs you: —I appreciate your request to join our faculty, but unfortunately, it's impossible for us now. We noticed your career resume has a long hiatus, which puts you behind our other candidates. However, we will closely watch your performance this year, and maybe you can ask again next year —Zack politely kills your dream to drive for them momentaneously. —You have a promising future, you are talented, and I wish you the best.

—Oh, bummer! But I understand, sir. I will do my very best!

You make it back to the group, but since they love to dish, they all were observing the scene from afar and interpreting your expressions, betting their money wasn't good.

—And? —Yuki asks.

—Not McLaren.

—I'm sorry, it's their loss! —Mick comforts you. By far, he is the most kind and polite of the bunch. It must be tough to grow up under his dad's shadow; maybe that's why he is so empathic with the outcasts.

—I haven't heard from Aston or Ferarri after my interviews either —you look slightly concerned now.

—Give it a time —Seb reassures you.

—Oh god, it's too early to endure a Masi speech. No one is drunk enough yet! —Lewis cuts the chat, looking straight at the man getting up on the fancy and tech stage, lit out under professional lightning; a massive state-of-the-art Samsung screen is behind him, showcasing the academy and its sponsor's logos.

—Does anyone feel like powdering their nose in the bathroom before the speech begins? —Carlos offers.

—Count me on, babe! Do you want to join us? Being high as a kite is the best way to enjoy this party —Leandra addresses you.

—Oh! No, no, thank you —you quickly deny with your arms.

—Hey, don't go hard! I brought mushrooms for all of us later —Max adds, and they nod in sync.

Okay, this is going nothing like you expected.

-

"Good night, esteemed faculty, staff, and enthusiastic students. As the Dean, I am honored to address you at the start of this new academic year at the Grand Prix Elite Academy. We are here united by a shared passion for speed, engineering, and the excitement of Formula One racing. 

Our college stands as a unique institution dedicated to preparing the next generation of brilliant minds and innovative professionals in the motorsport industry.

This academic year holds incredible opportunities for growth, learning, and discovery, and I encourage each and every one of you to embrace the challenges, cultivate your skills, and push the boundaries of knowledge in this exhilarating field. 

Let us fuel our enthusiasm, collaborate synergistically, and pave the way to new frontiers of excellence together. I extend a warm welcome to all and look forward to an extraordinary year ahead. 

Thank you."

A lazy round of applause comes from the crowd, but minutes before that, about the middle of the speech, Leandra stands by your side. —Do you want to know all the tea about Toto? —noticing how your eyes went all over him once more. 

He is up on the stage with all the principals from the different faculties. It's nothing new, but you are experiencing it for the first time.

—Well —you hesitate. —Yes.

—He has remained single for a while now, more like fucking around, actually. Toto has a type: blond bombshells, the supermodel type, you know, with insane bodies. I'm friends with two of his conquests, and one told me he fucks like a bull. He likes it hard and rough, and the other let me know he has a delicious fat cock but that he hits it and quits it; he left her begging for more.

You blush at her words, which she instantly notices, before continuing: —Last I witnessed with my own gorgeous eyes, Toto was hooking up with Anitta at that fancy Ferrari's anniversary party; she was all over him; it was a great party, we all got smashed! I ended up cowgirling Dani on the back of his car, oops. 

You hit playfully Leandra in the ribs with your elbow while looking at Ricciardo standing meters away. —Daniel is hot!

—And a moron! Ah, right! Toto went through a very public divorce about a year ago; it was the talk of the town. The Wolff's splitting, OH! The elites went wild! His ex-wife is a counselor here, so you will see her around; they have a weird relationship. I think they still fuck.

Okay, this is a lot of information, but one thing is sure: you are different from his type. 

—By the way, he's a very demanding professor and one of the very best. His subjects are challenging to get accepted into, and it is hard to obtain good grades in them, but if you achieve them, you gain a lot of respect; he has an eye for talent, so think twice before choosing him. Many girls try to add his class to their schedules to get closer to him, but it never ends well. He is a dream crusher. Do you want me to introduce you to him? I'm one of his favorite students.

—Oh, no, no —you get all nervous. Leandra laughs at your answer and how you go full panic within seconds.

—So you are the type who only likes to stare? —she mocks you. You softly push her, joking around.

Oh, yes, and he looks so fine! That suit is tight in all the right places!

-

The party gets better and wilder as the night progresses, and the alcohol takes a toll on your systems. 

People are dancing around to DJ Lando's sensual set and hooking up everywhere; the lights are dim, and neon lasers pulsate to the beats. 

Bodies move in sync with the rhythm as you all gather on the packed dance floor. Max offers the mushrooms around, and a "Fuck it! I deserve to feel alive!" feeling overpowers you, and you join them as they cheer you in, feeling now more like part of the pack!

Amidst the blur of Carlos's body dancing around you - he became your companion for the night - you start feeling everything on your skin: the energy, passion, and thrill. 

You can feel your pupils dilating and his firm chest under your hands. Your vision gets distorted, and a tall man with dark hair and intense eyes forms in front of you, and you fight that urge to slide your hands down.

You needed so bad this tempting display of youthful freedom and uninhibited release, begging for your inhibitions to fade temporarily after years of sadness and solitude.

You can't wait for the course to start and for this new chapter in your life to begin. 

Please don't let it just be a fantasy! To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 1,906

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. Things are are a bit slower in this part but things will pick up soon. Hope you all like this next instalment.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three(here) | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine |Chapter Ten(coming soon)

——————

The air was unbearably heavy in the drawing room. For his followers who’d endured and survived witnessing Doflamingo’s most violent and murderous moments felt unable to breathe at this moment. This was different and far more intense than anything they’d previously experienced before. Some of them worried that blinking in his direction would bring his attention on them and at this moment no one wanted that. Everyone was still processing that they’d witnessed for themselves the power and proof of existence of a set of soulmates. Some relished the news for their leader it was just underwhelming that his match was some random Marine. Why couldn’t he have had a soulmate who would naturally worship him and accept his authority. You certainly complicated things. “So who’s going to do it?”

Your voice broke the tense atmosphere and the sound made Doflamingo stare down at you. Not moments ago he’d already stated you weren’t going anywhere so what were you talking about now? Who was going to do what exactly? As if feeling his stare you looked away from the pile of bullets he’d tried to pierce your skull with and returned your even stare to his face. It irked him to see you were looking at him like he was an idiot. Like he should have known already what you were asking. You let out a tired sigh and sat back in your seat, finally getting comfortable against the soft cushions. “Who’s your pick to kill me or will everyone do it?”

“Eh? Eager to die are you?” Doflamingo grinned, leaning down towards you. He may not have the capability to physically harm you but he could still get at you with his words. It left a sour taste in his mouth when you shook your head. 

“I’m just trying to speed things along really.” You explained with a shrug, knowing the most powerful man in the room couldn’t hurt you made you even more bold and unafraid. “You want to get back to your…well whatever it is you do. I’m not making it out of this alive so can one of your underlings just do what you can’t?” Doflamingo’s grin froze in place and the vein twitched against his temple. You spoke so simply and it pissed him off at the implication of the words. To make matters worse you peered around him and gestured to one of the lowest ranking subordinates who was stood by the wall. “Him. He doesn’t look like he’s doing much. If he stands close enough I’m sure a single bullet would do it.” 

The inhumane squeak of panic that burst from the nobody member of Doflamingo’s ranks made your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise and amusement. You didn’t think that octave was possible for someone so burly. Doflamingo glared at the man you’d gestured to, his fury growing. Him? Some nobody that was one of many under his command? The only way it would have been more insulting would have been if you’d picked out one of the servants to take your life where he couldn’t. It still would have stung if you’d pointed to one of his adequate officers or one of the elite and most trusted in his inner circle but not as bad as this. This felt like an attack on him and he wanted to do nothing more than to strangle and slice you over and over. “Everyone. Out.”

Everyone left hurriedly from the closest door to them, avoiding Doflamingo’s line of sight and keeping their heads down, breaths held until they were safely out of the room. Although the elite members of Doflamingo’s family were reluctant to leave they obeyed also. When the door closed behind the final person you glanced up at Doflamino, lips quirking slightly as you pretended to seem concerned. “Did I say something wrong?”

“You know what you said.”

“I was just trying to be helpful.” You protested with feigned innocence. “Don’t you want to be rid of me as soon as possible? I mean we know you can’t kill me yourself and you have all these faithful subordinates only eager to kill on your behalf. So why not let them?”

“None of them will kill you. If I ordered them to never even look at you they’d obey.” He declared leaning closer to your face, his fingers curling around your jaw. “If I don’t get to kill you, no one does.” Your eyes narrowed, even though his grip couldn’t hurt you didn’t mean you had to like it.

“So what’s your plan?”

“I continue as normal, of course.” Doflamingo chuckled, fingers flexing just a little harder against your skin. It still didn’t feel real that you were impervious to any harm he could cause you. “While I also work out a way to undo this.”

“So much wasted effort.” You sighed, lifting your hand to pull his wrist. It surprised you and Doflamingo to see his hand immediately release from your face. So even that could be neutralised thanks to fate it seemed. You let out a small laugh and let go of his hand before smirking at him.  “Bet you wished you’d let me shoot myself at the warehouse, huh?” Doflamingo refused to answer that. Yes with hindsight, this headache wouldn’t be happening had he just let you go out on your own terms but he also wouldn’t deny the intrigue this brought, to see the existence of soulmates for himself was fascinating he just wished it was a different situation. Not something that hindered him. “So, while you’re fighting fate will I be locked away in the dungeon?”

“Do you want to be locked in the dungeon?” He asked, the broad grin returning to his face.

“Please, you don’t care what I want.” You scoffed. “So, will I be locked away? Would probably be better for you if I was, don’t you think?”

“How do you work that out?” Doflamino asked, you really were a mystery to him. Not many openly asked to be locked away. 

“Well it’s just going to annoy you to have to see me constantly, to be reminded that you can’t kill me when even the weakest person here could do it.” You explained casually, your smirk growing when his jaw clenched. “At least if I’m locked away, out of sight and out of mind your ego can remain in tact.” Doflamingo hated how openly you spoke, how unwavering you were and confident you were. The knowledge of your safety here allowed you to speak to him in a way no one ever dared to. He made a note to have another look at your Marine file, because you were certainly more dangerous and smarter than you let on. While he would have been more than happy to have you locked away until he worked out a way to be permanently rid of you by his own hand, he now knew he couldn’t. If he did that, you’d win. It would be like admitting you’d won in some way and he refused to let you take any more power from him.

“Follow me.” You watched Doflamingo turn and walk towards the door. With a sigh you pushed yourself out of the chair, reluctantly because of how comfortable it was and fell into step behind the Warlord all while keeping a small distance away. As you walked down the extravagant corridors you took in the beauty of the palace, everything was clean and orderly; part of you had expected to see everything in disarray and rowdy seeing as it was being run by and filled with pirates. Behind you you faintly heard one of the doors open and the smallest hush of whispered voices drifting. You picked up on the general gist of the conversation, the word soulmate creeping up. “News travels fast here…” You mused, keeping your eyes trained firmly on the canvas of pink feathers draped over Domflamingo’s back.

“Can’t blame them though can you?” Doflamingo chuckled, also deciding it wasn’t worth his time to look back. Finally he came to a stop outside a set of double doors and threw them open to reveal a grand living quarters, far finer and larger than anywhere you’d seen before. “This is where you’ll stay.”

“You have a strange idea of what dungeon means.” You uttered while stepping inside and cast him a wary look as his deep chuckle filled the room. “So where’s off limits? Or will I be locked inside?”

“No where’s off limits. Go where you like, do what you want.” Doflamingo shrugged lazily. “You’re not a threat to what I’m doing.”

“And given that you control the whole island, escape is impossible. Even if I did manage to escape I can’t go anywhere and contacting the Marine’s is out of the question.” You nodded as you wandered around the room you were to stay in, eyeing everything carefully. “I’m either classed as dead or missing and the mission was deemed a failure. No one will be looking for me.”

“You have such a lack of faith for the organisation you served for?”

“It’s called being realistic.” You sighed, fingers reaching out to hesitantly feel the blanket draped on the bottom of your bed. Never in your years of working would you ever have gotten to feel something so rich. “The unit’s dead, all evidence was either taken out of the warehouse or destroyed along with it. None of us were high ranking enough to warrant determined retribution. The higher ups will claim we gave our lives valiantly and in the name of justice. No loose ends.” Doflamingo’s grin spread further at your explanation, for a Marine you weren’t as blindly devoted to the organisation compared to the others he’d met and killed over the years. At least you saw the truth of their ways for yourself and you were smart enough to view things clearly. 

“Sleep well.” He grinned at you, pausing when you turned to throw him an accusing look.

“If you’re planning on breaking in and smothering me in my sleep, do it quietly.”

“No promises.” Doflamingo chuckled, leaving the room and you alone at last. 

You waited a few moments before approaching the door and leant against it, straining to hear if the Warlord was still lurking outside. When you heard nothing you let out a long, shaky breath and slid to the floor. Finally you allowed everything to take over you as you processed the whirlwind of events that had happened. The warehouse, the loss of your unit, being a captive of a Warlord and being his soulmate of all things on top of that. Shaking uncontrollably you hugged yourself tightly, silently cursing Doflamingo over and over. You knew he would stubbornly try to find a way to defy fate itself to severe this thing connecting you both and if he did succeed you would be killed instantly. Until then you were stuck here and you refused to break in front of him or any of those he commanded. You’d already proven you were capable of getting under his skin so now you were determined to do all in your power to continue to do so. If not for just getting some sort of satisfaction out of the horrible situation you were in but also because perhaps if you angered him enough he’d order someone under him to do what he couldn’t and end this nightmare.

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[antimonyandthyme]

sewis batman au

Seb is Not Happy about it.

Mark says, “You like cars,” like that’s any consolation.

“It’d be fine if you were sending me there to watch cars, I do like that,” Seb says. “But you’re sending me there to babysit.”

“You’re talking about the world champion,” Mark says, as if Seb doesn’t know. “World champion seven times.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of who Lewis Hamilton is, Mark.”

“So we’re all on the same page.” Mark claps his hands together, the way Seb’s science teacher used to do when she’d go Pencils down! at the end of a test. Seb’s pencil was usually already down, the lead broken into two then four then eight pieces because he’d grown bored waiting for the time to run up. Even now it feels like he’s waiting for the world to catch up. “I’m counting on you. Don’t fuck it up.”

Seb opens his mouth to argue, then slams it back shut. Guilt gnaws at him when he sees the stack of reports languishing on Mark’s desk. He’d heard the Chief bellowing at Mark yesterday; everyone had. Gotham Gazette had gotten some very incriminating pictures of Seb letting the Batman into the Royal Hotel.

Police seek help from MASKED VIGILANTE on mayor’s abduction

Jenson slid the paper silently across the desk, only after Seb had his morning coffee in his hands. One look, and Seb knew the damage control would be severe. He hadn’t thought it would involve Gotham’s about-as-interesting-as-a-rock billionaire. The guy’s good at driving fast. Great. That’s about all the personality Seb’s partial to.

“I’d actually take a suspension over this,” Seb says wearily.

“How much does it speak about our sad state of affairs if I tell you I can’t afford that?” Mark sounds equally as tired. The Force is wearing thin with the spate of crime ratcheting at an all-time high. Sometimes Seb steps foot out of his front door and half-expects the pavement to cave away from under him. The city’s running on its own fumes. “You know I can’t afford that.”

“I know,” Seb says. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

“No you’re not.”

No, he’s not. Not twenty minutes in and the Batman had pointed out evidence under the carpet and behind the safe and within the mayor’s pet dog that they would have taken two weeks to find, if they had adhered to proper protocol. Proper protocol! the Chief yelled, and everyone in the bullpen had turned to glare at Seb.

Seb offers his most apologetic smile. Mark rolls his eyes.

“If you’re done complaining, kindly fuck off now.” Mark scrubs a hand through his hair. The grey glinting off his temples makes Seb want to toss a match to the powder keg hiding under the foundations. Just be done with it. If they lose Mark, they lose Seb. If they lose Seb, they lose the Batman. If they lose the Batman, the city is as good as gone. “I’ve got twenty-one complaints to field because of the stunt you pulled yesterday.”

“Yessir,” Seb says. With a little bit of heart injected into it.

--

“Commissioner Vettel,” Hamilton purrs. Seb fights to keep his expression neutral. Hamilton’s arm is heavy around him. He’s dressed in a sleeveless mesh garb for the driver’s parade, even though the weather’s crisp at best. It looks… irritatingly good on him. “I see the Force sent their brightest.”

“Only the best for the city’s elite,” Seb says through a smile pulled so comically across his face it feels like stitches.

“And for the city’s masked avengers, as well.”

The smile drops from Seb’s face. The one on Hamilton’s merely grows. “Hanging out with him when you could be in so much better company, Commissioner,” Hamilton says easily. He pushes close into Seb’s space, and Seb, who prides himself in reading people well, blinks twice at the gates shuttered behind Hamilton’s eyes. “I’d advise you to pick your partners more wisely.”

There’s a split second where Seb hears Mark’s voice—Don’t fuck it up—before all that precaution washes away like rain down a drainpipe. A week ago the Batman had pulled Seb into the protective circle of his arm and chest plate as Alonso’s guards opened fire on them. There was nothing Seb’s Glock could do against three assault rifles. The Batman had taken every single bullet. Then, visibly injured, he’d proceeded to step in front of Seb, and knock the assailants out with their own weapons.

Alonso had escaped. Seb couldn’t have cared less at the moment. “You’re hurt,” he’d cried out, dismayed. The Batman was swaying on his feet. “Let me see, let me see—”

And for the wildest moment, the Batman had almost moved to remove his armour, leaning into Seb, before he stumbled away as if burned. He grappled up a building and disappeared into the night, with Seb calling helplessly after him.

No care allocated for himself. Seb could have hardly picked a better partner. One who's constantly putting himself in the line of fire.

His lips are moving before he can stop himself. “I’m hardly billionaire circle-jerk material, Mr. Hamilton.”

Hamilton’s mouth drops open.

The grin’s back on, stretched out like a Glasgow smile. “Look at this jacket I’m wearing! It’s ten years old, can you believe that? Look at this watch. Complete with blood splatter on its strap, from when I tried but failed to stop a colleague from bleeding out. Why do I keep this still? Maybe I’ve been too lazy to get it changed.”

“Commissioner—”

“And look at these shoes! You won’t believe the shit I’ve waded through in them. Can’t even afford to buy new ones. Do you know what a public servant makes a year?”

Hamilton opens his mouth, almost as if to say yes.

Seb scoffs. “So you see, I’m far more suited to the lowly creatures of society. They've done more for this hellhole than people like you." The urge to defend is so great. "And I dare say the bats in the alleys might even enjoy my company.”

“I dare say they would,” Hamilton says quietly. Seb flicks his gaze up at Hamilton to glare, but Hamilton’s looking at him with the most open expression he’s seen since they were within three feet of each other. They glance away, like chastised children at the principal’s office told to get along.

“So,” Hamilton clears his throat. “If you hate my guts this much, why are you here?”

Seb can recognize an olive branch, even when dangled from the bejeweled fingers of a billionaire. He shrugs. “I like cars.”

“Alright man,” Hamilton says, bumping their shoulders together. He keeps a respectful distance this time. “I buy that.”

--

The five lights go on. Seb doesn’t want to admit he’s standing on his tip toes, trying to peer over a tall mechanic’s shoulder. Hamilton had insisted he be in the Mercedes garage, even after Seb had gone flapping his mouth like a loose carton box. He’d made Seb tea—made it himself, no personal assistant involved. Mixed in sugar and oat milk like he knew exactly what he was doing, which Seb didn’t want to question why he could guess at. Billionaires are weird.

Seb waits for the final beep like the sound of a safety clicking off.

Hamilton gets the best start. Of course he does. Seb unclenches his pumped fist hastily. No one spares him a second glance. Hamilton takes the first corner with Leclerc right on his tail, and then—

Not everyone notices the shots at first. There’s too much noise from the track, and most of them are wearing headphones. But Seb flinches, having come to recognize the sound from daily acquaintance.

“Get down,” he yells. Around him, the crew just looks at him weird. “Get down, someone’s firing—”

Pop pop pop

Now they get the memo. The screams start. Seb grabs at one confused mechanic and pulls him to the ground, points at the entrance, shouts Go, go! They’re sitting ducks here.

Pop pop pop

Seb’s ears are ringing. Two assailants, three? Fuck, four. Seb chances a glance at the monitors, anything to give him a hint as to what’s going on. The race is still going, amid bewildered radios from the drivers. The shots must have been audible in their comms. Seb squints. You notice the silliest things when your life’s in danger. Hamilton’s car is no longer in the lead. He must have been overtaken in the chaos.

He swallows down the oddest sense of disappointment and pulls his eyes away from the screen. Pop, and something bursts into pieces barely two feet from him. Seb scrambles behind some machinery, drawing his Glock from his hip. He’s got no idea where they’re firing from, though he’s never pulled out of a game of chicken.

Deep breath. He peeks out from behind the dented equipment. Pop, it glances close enough for Seb to count that as one of his nine lives gone. He aims in the direction the shot came from, fires one off.

A muffled yell. One down. Seb’s back behind the life-saving machinery. He spots one of the pit crew frozen on his knees in the middle of the floor, stranded like an unprotected island. Seb allows himself a moment of hesitation, and then he’s barrelling for the quaking man, while more shots go off around him, and hauling him behind some tires.

“Stay back—”

He’ll never get used to bullets hitting his vest. They hurt like a motherfucker, tactical lining be damned. Three successive shots to his chest, and the wind gets knocked out of him. He drops to the ground, the debris left over from a hurricane. Alive, he clocks himself. Alive, so get up. Get up, get up—

They never did invent proper bulletproofing for legs. When he gets out of here—if, he gets out of here, Seb is going to make Mark dedicate an entire R&D faction to bulletproofing legs. The pain punches through him, and he collapses on his wounded leg.

Blood’s pouring out. Hold on. Blood’s pouring out at a speed reminiscent of that time when Seb couldn’t stop the bleeding.

More yelling, and the rain of bullets stops. That's good, because Seb can't hope to do a blessed thing at the moment.

“Your femoral artery’s been hit,” someone says. “Hang on, Sebastian. I need to tie this off.”

Seb must be dreaming, because Lewis Hamilton is looming above him. Wasn't he just in a car? When did he get here? When did he get so tall? Oh. Seb’s on the ground, that’s why. Seb’s on the ground bleeding out, and his leg is on fucking fire.

“Hurts,” he gasps. “Hurts like hell.”

“I know, you’re alright,” Hamilton says. “You’re alright, Seb.” He sounds like—like he’s on the brink. Like Seb is standing on the thinnest ice surface, and Hamilton is right there, ready to break through. Seb’s not sure he understands. Hamilton can’t possibly care about him this much; he can’t possibly care at all.

Hamilton’s found some wire in the garage, and he pulls it around the highest part of Seb’s thigh, right up against his groin.

“Ask a man out first, Jesus,” Seb mumbles. He’s not sure he likes the look on Hamilton’s face. Devastation doesn’t suit a billionaire, and maybe some part of Seb still wants to preserve the sanctity of the institutions that run the city. Is it wrong to desire a life where he doesn’t tread from one landmine to the next every other week? Is it wrong? God, what kind of man does that make him?

“I would’ve,” Hamilton says. He’s yanking the wire tight, causing Seb to jerk and scream. Hamilton’s fingers are feather light on Seb’s face. His eyes are raw earth, freshly torn apart by a rake. “I would’ve, baby.”

“Can’t afford dinner with you,” Seb manages. “My yearly salary is—”

“Sixty-eight grand,” Hamilton finishes for him, hauling Seb up. Fuck, the guy’s strong. If he wasn’t about to die this would be such a turn on.

As it stands, dying sucks. The pain is close to unbearable.  

“How—” Seb’s eyelids are flickering shut. Trying to keep them open is not working. The ground is moving beneath him. Ah. The ground is moving very quickly beneath him. Seb’s going to throw up. Or pass out. He hopes it’s the latter.

Hamilton’s chest feels familiar. Seb’s cheek is smushed up against it, and he swears he can hear the thudding of Hamilton’s heart. Don’t Formula 1 drivers have some of the lowest resting heart rates?

With the last of his consciousness, “How do you know how I take my tea?”

“Stay alive,” Hamilton says, far and getting further away from him, “and I’ll tell you when you wake.”

--

Seb throws up on the pillow covers twice before he can force his eyes open. He half expects to see a sleeveless meshed figure by his bed.

He doesn’t know what to feel when it’s the Batman’s situated at the hospital window, watching him. Seb’s sleep hasn’t been the smoothest, and in his most lucid moments he remembers a shadow in the room. Not a bad one. A safe one, a guardian angel. The Batman’s been there for awhile. Standing still as a statue like he’ll stay until the pillars of the city come crumbling down.

“Alonso’s taken care of,” the Batman says. His voice doesn’t have its usual gravelly bite. He just sounds exhausted. “And I saw to it that the guns they were trafficking—”

“You have the worst bedside manners,” Seb says.

The Batman falls silent. He’s cradling something reverently in his gloves. Ah, it’s Seb’s watch. It looks so delicate in his hands. Infuriating, how he never allows himself to touch. How he could have walked two steps to the side of Seb’s bed but instead positions himself far away, stealing one of Seb’s belongings for makeshift comfort.

If he wasn’t so high on meds Seb supposes he would be angry. All he has is the strength to stare at the Batman’s gloved hands.

The reason why Seb’s pencils were always down in science class before the teacher could even announce it: he loves evidence. It’s the cornerstone of everything he does. It’s truth, it’s judgement for those who deserve it, it’s justice. It’s the utter satisfaction when an experiment succeeds, when Phenolphthalein changes colour as an indicator that the acid and base have cancelled each other out.

The Batman’s fingering a spot on the strap of his watch. Not many people would notice that spot. It’s just the tiniest drop of blood.

“Lewis,” Seb says.

The watch slips from the Batman’s fingers. He catches it with lightning-quick reflexes. And then he stands rooted to the ground, every muscle pulled painfully taut. Seb can see right through the mask now, Lewis’ face dissolving in a riot of emotion.

“Come here,” Seb says, and Lewis comes. Silent and obedient like Seb could ask anything of him. The most terrifying entity of Gotham, the only thing the dark’s afraid of, and he’s hunched by the side of Seb’s bed like a sinner in a confession booth. “I’m bang on the money, aren’t I?”

“I said you were the Force’s brightest,” the Batman—no, Lewis, says.

“The most begrudging of compliments,” Seb says.

“I meant it, but you didn’t like it the first time I said it.”

“I didn’t like you then.”

“But,” Lewis swallows. “You do now?”

“You saved my life.” Many, many times. “Kinda hard not to.”

The gloves are brushing against Seb’s hair, with the lightest hint of pressure. Lewis doesn't say, Don't tell anyone. Seb adores him for it.

“Take those off,” Seb complains. He’s bedridden; he’s allowed to be petulant.

A beat, and Lewis strips the gauntlets off. The hand’s back on Seb’s head, stroking, petting. Lewis is looking at him like he’s something the Batman could never be allowed to have. Lewis is touching him like he’s something more precious than the heart of this rotting city. Seb’s eyes are slipping shut. He reminds himself to have a chat with Lewis about this. Mark is going to have to field twenty-one times twenty-one complaints. This will be exceedling complicated. But he doesn’t think the Commissioner of Gotham, or the Bat of Gotham, ever got off with easy.

“About dinner.”

“Might be some time,” Seb slurs.

“I can wait,” Lewis says. “Have done, for awhile now. But I’ve got an open table at the Ocelot.”

“Prick.”

“You like it.”

The hand stays on his head. Seb closes his eyes to the shadows.