Player Poppy Playtime Fanart の小説・ストーリー

So possessive! To Zaybabe: Morning bitch. Ryle and I are meeting up to talk later. Why did you change your contact name on my phone? From Zaybabe: Why are you calling me babe? Okay, if that's your decision. I'll always be here for you. I love you so much. Promise me you'll only be with me? To Zaybabe: I promise. ~Ylluscion

“He’s very handsome. He bought me gelato. Pistachio and chocolate. Two scoops. He said my ponytail is crooked but I’m still a winner.” I feel my heart slam against my ribcage, once, hard. Adrian blinks slowly, like he’s processing, then that small smile returns. “Sounds like you had a fun day.” “Very fun,” Poppy says, then suddenly yawns so big all her energy seems to leave with it. Her eyelids droop halfway. “Daddy, I’m sleepy.” “Sleepy girl,” Adrian says gently. “Go get some good rest, okay?” Poppy nods, still trying to look tough, then her body just slumps sideways on the sofa. The navy ribbon stays perfectly in place. This child can fall like a sack of potatoes and somehow still look cut

It was a perfect day for baseball. In typical business-geek style, his gaze roved over the fans, looking for those who wore Packard designs. If Chloe had her way, a lot more normal, everyday people would want to wear his line of sportswear. He turned when he heard Chloe talking to a hot dog vendor She twisted to look at Timothy . “You want something?” “Whatever you’re having,” he replied. He dug into his wallet to pay the vendor, but the older man smiled and waved him off.

She saw the scene play out in her head before it actualised, and though she knew in her gut it was coming, she was helpless to stop it. With a quick step to his right, Aaron lept to Tommy's side, placed a hand under his tray and shoved it upwards. A fizzing spray of cherry cola hit Tommy's face, along with a slice of pizza that sat on his cheek for a second before sliding to the floor, leaving a smear of grease and tomato sauce. An eerie silence fell over the canteen as music began to play from someone's phone. It was loud. Louder than a phone normally produced with no speaker attached.

Dante stood beside me, hands in his pockets, looking almost sheepish. "Is this okay?" "It's perfect." "Marco suggested it. Said we should turn the place where everything went wrong into something good." I leaned into his side. "Marco is smarter than both of us." "Don't tell him that. His ego is already unbearable." I looked around at the bright walls, the new windows, the teenagers playing basketball in the back lot. This was the future. Not blood and secrets and whispered threats, but something open. Something honest. "You've changed," I said.

He smiled back and slapped my ass… sharply and playful as I skipped giddily back to my clothes. As I was putting my skirt and top back on, I could hear the boys discussing something amongst themselves with low voices, laughs, and the occasional "fuck yeah". I zipped my skirt, smoothed my top, slipped my heels back on. I waved goodbye to them and started walking towards the door when Troy called out. "Hey Poppy. What are your plans 2 weekends from now?" "Nothing yet," I replied. "The boys and I were just talking. How 'bout we take a trip down South? You and the four of us. Leave your man here. It'll be nice to get somewhere warm. What do you say?"

"What the hell is going on here?" He frowned, looking me up and down. "Are you Bianca Campbell?" "Obviously!" I snapped. "Now tell me what's going on. Why are you moving my stuff?" He shifted awkwardly, glancing back at the other men who didn't stop working, then leaned in, lowering his voice. "The owner got a tip of some... interesting materials in your apartment." He raised the bag in his hand, his expression hardening as he dangled it in front of me. I stared, horrified, at a plastic bag of powder clutched in his fingers.

Every person who had underestimated me. I smiled, a cold, dangerous smile. They won’t see me coming. And then my phone buzzed, an unknown number. “Tonight, the first move begins,” a text read. I looked up, heart racing. The city lights outside reflected in my window, painting streaks of red and gold. Adrian was right. This was war. And I was already in it. The thought made my pulse race, fear, excitement, and something else I didn’t dare name. I was no longer just Nora Vaughn, the obedient daughter. I was a player. And Adrian Cole… he was both my ally and my storm.