#I just wish he didn’t have to use this to clear his bad pr

[jewishbarbies]

the rock donating a 7-figure amount to the strike after getting shit on for single-handedly taking down the dcu and getting exposed as an egotistical ass for weeks feels like taylor donating to kesha’s legal fund “privately” but conveniently ending up in the headlines anyway

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 2

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, mentions of sexual harassment, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Everyone’s waiting for your answer but your head is spinning. The silence stretches for just shy of too long before you finally clear your throat. “Can I have a minute?” You stand, shakily, pushing your chair back and making for the door. You curl your fingers around Josie’s wrist as you pass her, tugging her after you. No one tries to stop you and when you exit into the hallway, it’s empty. You glance in both directions, find them unfamiliar and then just pick one, dragging Josie behind you. Once you think you’re out of earshot of the office, you round on Josie who’s regarding you calmly. Your hands are still trembling but you can’t hide your anger anymore and you snap. “What were you thinking!” You snap and Josie’s eyes widen in surprise. Your voice trembles but the bite is still there. “First you tell me to sue him for sexual assault and now you want me to date him?!” Josie sighs, rolling her eyes.

“You really think that little of me, Roadie? Look, what he did was fucked up, and I knew you wouldn’t want to press charges because you’re well, you, but I want to support you if that’s something you really want. Either way he deserves to pay for what he did. If you don’t want to take this to court that’s fine, but why not benefit from this? You said it yourself, you’re worried about Dan’s rule, so play the system. Also, I didn’t say you should date him because I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy, I said to fake date him. It’s just a game, like playing pretend. It’s January, Dan makes his decisions on renewals by April at the latest and then maybe you stick with it until the end of the year and then you can say you broke up over summer break and it’s over. Plus it’s perfect, just have him show up to a few school events. It doesn’t have to be every one since he has a career that has him traveling most of the year, so you have a good reason when you don’t bring him to something. And since he’ll be gone most of the time anyway, you don’t have to put much effort into the ruse.”

“Plus,” she gives you a rueful smile. “As much as it pains me to say it, Javy’s not such a bad guy. I don’t approve of his choices but I know from seeing him with the guys and Zam especially, he’s got a good heart. When he says he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean to hurt you, I think he means it. The guy has three sisters for heaven’s sake. I wouldn’t even think of suggesting this if I didn’t trust him in some capacity. And like I said, it’s not like you’re actually dating him.” She shrugs again.

“I couldn’t do something like that. Using someone that way? It’s not right.” Your heart squeezes as you force the words out and you try your best to ignore the way your voice shakes. Josie gives you a pointed look.

“He’s using you too, remember? Zam needs him to fix his reputation. A steady girlfriend is exactly what he needs, or at least the illusion of one.”

“Does he need it, or does the team?” Your words have more bite than you intended and Josie regards you curiously.

“He is the team. It’s his job, the way your teaching position is yours.” She says coolly. “I’m not going to force you one way or another, but I’m just saying, an opportunity like this isn’t going to come around again.” Your stomach is a tangle of nerves as Josie goes back inside and you consider her words. It would be mutually beneficial for both of your jobs, and he clearly wasn’t attracted to you, so perhaps some kind of agreement wouldn’t hurt. You can’t believe you’re actually considering this but you think about your kids, your classroom, and your job that you really do love. If this was what you had to do to guarantee that you kept it, you could play the game. Your kids are everything and you take great pride in your work. As a kindergarten teacher, you’re the kids’ first impression of the school and you take that job very seriously. The idea of having to hand that over to someone else makes your heart twist painfully in your chest. You can do this for them.

“Hey,” a voice breaks through your train of thought and you jump in surprise. Javy holds his hands up in front of him, backing up a step to give you space. “Easy, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, brown eyes widening at your terrified expression. You feel your body curl into itself instinctively and see a flicker in his eyes that you can’t read. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He says slowly, eyes running over your figure but not in a scrutinizing way. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was checking you over. “So,” he says, posture relaxing as he leans a shoulder against the wall as he regards you. “How are you feeling about this agreement?”

You pick at the fabric of the skirt of the dress, averting your eyes so you don’t have to look at him. After it’s been a little too long without you answering you give a slight shrug before you force the words out, your voice quiet. “I really love my job. I don’t want to lose it.” It’s not an answer, not really but he nods slowly as you chance a peek at his face to see his reaction. He catches your gaze and gives you a small smile. It feels like the first peek of the sun through an overcast sky after a storm. It sends an unexpected droplet of warmth plummeting straight into your stomach. You find that you don’t want to escape his gaze nearly as much after seeing that soft quirk of his lips. Cautiously, you turn to face him fully and watch as the corners of his mouth slowly tick up in tandem. The clouds move apart and as you’re bathed in his warmth, you wonder what it would feel like to experience the full force of his smile. You think it might destroy you.

“What about you?” You don’t recognize your voice when you find it. You clear your throat and try again. “How are you feeling about the agreement?” He shrugs his broad shoulders.

“There are worse things.” You suppress the urge to flinch at his casual words that send a slice of cold down your spine. “Zam’s been on my ass for months about settling down, that’s true.”

He pauses so you ask, “And you wouldn’t rather have an actual girlfriend? A real one, I mean.” He gives you a curious look.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he points out and you feel your cheeks heat as you avert your gaze from the intensity of his.

“No,” you answer softly. “I wouldn’t.” You don’t offer any additional explanation so he just nods.

“Well, I wouldn’t either.” He says and you realize you’ve unintentionally placed the two of you at a stalemate. “So, that’s it then?” He asks, finally breaking the silence. “We’re doing this?” You swallow hard before nodding firmly.

“We’re doing this.” He nods back before extending a hand into the buffer of space he’d left between the two of you. You stare at it for a long moment before extending one of your own. He holds his hand still, leaving it to you to wrap your digits around his larger ones. He curls his around yours then and you’re reminded of how they felt on your hips, pressing into the flesh like a potter molding clay. When he shakes your hand you watch the muscles flex in his arm and wonder if you’ve unknowingly thrown yourself into the deep end, condemned to a death by drowning.

“Hi, I’m Javy, nice to meet you.” Even though he’s told you his name once before, this feels different. You introduce yourself as well. It feels odd. You’ve known him before ever being introduced. This feels different, almost like the air between the two you had shifted. He lets go of your hand as quickly as he grips it and holds out his hand back towards Zam’s office.

“Shall we?” He asks and you nod, turning to go ahead of him. You feel the ghost of fingertips against the small of your back and you stiffen instinctively at the unexpected contact. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologizes instantly, pulling his fingers away. “I’m a naturally touchy guy. It’s a bad habit, I’ll try to be more aware of it if it makes you uncomfortable.” He sounds genuinely apologetic and maybe a tiny bit embarrassed. He holds the door to the office open for you as you both enter and you square your shoulders, willing them not to shake as you approach Zam’s desk.

“I’ll do it.” Zam looks surprised but nods before turning to Javy.

“Javy?” You don’t turn to look at him but the pause before his answer tells you he’s nodding.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Zam says, not sounding very convincing before she tries again. “Good. I’ll draw up something official that the two of you can sign. In the meantime, the two of you should get to know each other. Javy, I’ll arrange a press conference at which you’re going to address the photos and ask the press as well as your fans to respect your girlfriend’s privacy. After that you’ll need to start appearing together in public: dates, Roadie you’ll need to start attending home games and maybe even an away game or two where your schedule permits.” Your brain starts getting hazy as the weight of what you’ve just signed up for settles onto your shoulders. Zam’s still speaking but your brain is louder as it gets heavier and then Zam’s dismissing everyone.

You feel Josie’s hand on your shoulder, steering you towards the door. You file out of the office with everyone else and follow behind Josie, your mind still so busy that you don’t hear the calling of your name until a hand curls around your wrist and you jump, letting out a squeak of surprise. The hand retreats instantly and Javy gives you a guilty look. “Sorry, but you weren’t answering.” He scratches the back of his neck. You give him a shy nod, twisting your hands in front of you. “I don’t have your phone number. I figured that’s probably important.” You fumble to extricate your phone from your purse, tapping at the screen with trembling fingers before handing it to him. He inputs the digits with ease before handing the phone back. “Cool, well I’ll be in touch.” He says before giving you one last smile before turning to jog down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Once he’s gone you look down at your phone, and your eyes widen as you see what he’s done. Your texts are open to a new conversation with a contact named “Big Sexy ;)” with a single bubble from your side of the chain reading “How’s dinner sound?” Your phone chimes and a message pops up from the opposite side of the screen.

“It would be my pleasure.” Followed by an unfamiliar address. Your breath catches in your throat. Not for the first time today you wonder if you’re in over your head.

***

Your kitchen looks like a hurricane’s gone through it. The result of the storm perches on the corner of the counter, prompt seated in a frilly baking dish. The lemon-blueberry loaf fills the space with a delicious aroma as you frown at your reflection. You’d finally invested in a full-length mirror at Josie’s behest and you’re still getting used to using it. You smooth your hands down the surface of your light-wash jeans, resisting the urge to tug at the sweater you’re wearing as you regard your reflection. Your eyes shift to the sliver of the kitchen that you can catch in the mirror and frown at the mess. You’re a stress baker and so far today you have the loaf you’re taking to Javy’s along with muffins for your class tomorrow and another tray for the teachers. You glance at the clock on the wall and grimace. If you don’t leave now you’ll be late and you don’t need that extra stress on top of everything else on your mind tonight. You begrudgingly grab your purse and the loaf pan, heading out as the sun starts to paint the sky with the warm pallet of sunset.

***

You googled the apartment complex before you left but that doesn’t stop you from craning your neck up at the impressive reflective surface of the luxury apartment building. It’s smack in the middle of downtown San Diego and you’d passed a packed highway of commuters heading in the opposite direction on your way here. As you step into the opulent lobby, you feel severely underdressed, especially as you approach the front desk. You’ve never seen an apartment with a front desk but then again you’ve never had reason to interact with the extremely wealthy aside from teaching their children. The woman at the front desk doesn’t look much younger than you but she could be older. It would make sense that a job like this would age you less than corralling elementary schoolers all day.

“Can I help you?” She asks with a nasal voice that has everything to do with her pinched expression of thinly veiled disgust as she gives you a once-over that’s definitely not in her job description. You give her a tight-lipped smile in response.

“I’m here to see Javy Machado.” You consider calling him Mr. Machado but if he’s supposed to be your boyfriend you need to sound comfortable around him. Especially since this probably won’t be the last time you have to interact with… Emma. You find her name tag as she finishes her silent assessment of you, a pitying smile on her lips.

“Oh honey, you’re not going to need that.” She nods at the loaf pan in your hands. “It’s not the kind of cake he invited you over for.” She smirks like she’s won some sort of game and you wonder exactly how many girls she’s seen come through here. You plaster your polite smile on even harder, imagining her as one of your students’ mothers. You’re not sure where your confidence comes from but maybe Roadie, fake girlfriend to superstar hockey player Javy Machado is braver than Ms. Roadie, kindergarten teacher, because you respond coolly.

“I’d appreciate it if you let my boyfriend know I’m here, please, Emma. We have dinner plans.” She looks like she’s about to snort but then her expression changes completely and you don’t understand until she addresses someone who must be behind you.

“Mr. Machado! Good evening!” She chirps cheerfully and she reminds you of a baby bird. Desperate. You steel yourself and turn to face Javy, keeping your brave face in place as best as you can.

“Perfect timing, sweetheart.” The words sound clunky and unfamiliar in your mouth and you see Javy’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before understanding fills them.

“Hey beautiful, ready for dinner?” He leans in then, eyes watching you carefully as if trying to convey his intentions before his warm lips meet your cheek in a chaste kiss that sets your skin ablaze in its wake. You give him a simple nod, words failing you as you turn over the casual term of endearment in your mind.

Emma’s watching your exchange with barely contained shock. Javy doesn’t even pay her a moment of attention, nodding to the left in silent instruction and you follow him to an elevator bay. You register then that his hands are full of takeout bags and you immediately wrestle one from his grasp as he juggles them to free a hand for the keypad to the elevator. “Thanks," he says and you arrange the bag in your arms. “I hope you like Cajun.” The smell escaping the bags hits your nose then and your nostrils fill with the rich, spicy scent and you feel a little of the tension slip out of your shoulders even though the smell is entirely foreign to you.

“I’ve never had it.” You admit as the elevator arrives and the two of you board it.

“Never?!” He looks surprised before it melts into a grin that knocks the air out of your lungs. “Well, then this is the perfect place to try it for the first time. Well, other than New Orleans.” He amends and you nod along. The two of you fall into silence as the elevator climbs. You notice then what he’s wearing as you stand on opposite sides of the elevator. You’d felt underdressed in the lobby but he’s dressed in a faded ASU shirt and athletic shorts over socks and slide sandals. He notices you looking and gives you a rueful look. “I was banking on having time to change before you got here.” He explains and you shake your head, dismissing his half-apology.

“It’s fine. It’s your house after all.” He smiles again and the silence is back before the door slides open onto an entryway. You’ve arrived straight into his apartment and you let your eyes explore the beginning of his home. The entryway is sparse and undecorated. It looks stiff, devoid of personality. There’s a hallway that turns out of sight to your left and a closed door to the right.

“That’s the spare bedroom.” He explains as he slips off his shoes and you follow suit. “It’s a weird layout but it suits my needs.” You’re not entirely sure what he means until you follow him down the hallway. Once it opens onto the living room you think you understand Javy Machado just a little bit more.

The living room is a complete 180 from the entryway. The furniture looks expensive and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook a breathtaking view of the city but the end tables are littered with picture frames and the space has a distinct lived-in feel. You get the feeling that his overnight guests don’t make it this far into the apartment. He makes a beeline for the kitchen and you hurry to catch up with him. You manage to catch sight of at least one of the frames’ contents and a soft smile quirks at your lips. A younger Javy and Jake grin back at you. Their arms are slung over each other’s shoulders, faces sweaty, wearing red and gold hockey jerseys that you assume are from ASU given Javy’s shirt of the same color. You make your way into the kitchen where Javy’s opening the bags and accounting for all the food. He looks up when you come in, depositing the extra bag next to him and the loaf pan beside it. He snatches it up, groaning as he takes a deep sniff of the contents.

“Roadie, this smells delicious.” He remarks before excusing himself to his bedroom to change leaving you in the kitchen. Once you’re alone, you feel the nerves start to creep back in. You worry the hem of your sweater as you wait until a faint jingling reaches your ears and you turn just in time to see a wary black snout make its way around the corner into the kitchen. Of all the things you’ve seen so far in Javy’s apartment, this is the biggest surprise. The tiny dachshund regards you curiously and you do your best to manage your nerves, knowing the dog can definitely sense them and squat down.

“Hi there,” you whisper cautiously and the dog approaches carefully. You reach a hand out and she sniffs it suspiciously before licking at your fingers and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You catch sight of her collar as you scratch her head gently. “Roxie” it reads and you smile wider. “Hi there, Roxie, it's nice to meet you.” Roxie seems equally pleased and rolls over onto her belly to encourage further scratches and rubs. You’re so consumed with her that you don’t notice Javy return until Roxie squirms into your grasp to face her owner, giving a playful yip. He’s gaping at the two of you and you’re instantly nervous again. You stand quickly, dusting your hands off on your jeans.

“S-sorry I didn’t mean to intrude I just- She came in here so I just- I’m sorry.” You sputter but he’s still staring at Roxie before he slowly moves his gaze to you. Something unreadable passes through his eyes and then he shakes his head.

“No, it's fine I just, she was supposed to be in the laundry room. And I…” he trails off before continuing. “She doesn’t usually like other people, especially strangers.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he says, looking back down at where Roxie’s sitting, regarding him with a cocked head on the floor. He looks back at you, expression unreadable. “Should we eat?” You nod and follow him to sit at the countertop. He pulls two bowls out of the cabinets and opens up some take-out soup containers. “How do you feel about seafood?” Your stomach drops as nerves twist your gut. He looks up and must see your expression because he just nods and grabs one of the containers, dishing the hearty-looking stew into a bowl before passing it to you. “That one’s just sausage. I didn’t know where you stood on seafood, so I got both.” Your heart aches slightly as you thank him and take the bowl. He fills his bowl from a different container before taking a seat next to you. “So, Roadie,” he says after taking a few bites in silence, “tell me about yourself.”

You squirm slightly in your seat. You’ve never been one to talk much about yourself so you decide to stick to the basics, and treat this like a job interview. It kind of is a job interview, except you’re interviewing for a position after taking it instead of before. “I’m almost thirty. I’m a kindergarten teacher at Acacia Academy. That’s how I know Josie and Reuben. Josie and I are colleagues and their daughter Skylar is in my class.” Javy nods, before asking.

“Do you like it? Teaching?” You nod vigorously and you think you see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“My kids mean everything to me. I can’t imagine doing something else.” You admit and he nods again.

“What do you do other than work?” You give him a confused look so he clarifies. “What are your hobbies?”

“I’m an artist,” you answer easily. “It’s not in any way professional by any means, but I like doing it.” You shrug.

“What kind of art?” He asks and you shrug again.

“I work with lots of mediums, I don’t like being limited to just one.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Painting,” you answer easily.

“Why?” He rests his chin on his hand and you feel pinned under his casual gaze. It feels odd, and unfamiliar, being the sole focus of his attention. It’s like walking to your car on a cloudless day and feeling every inch of your cool skin prickling under the unyielding warmth of the sun.

“It’s so versatile,” you explain, dropping your gaze to where your fingers pick at the napkin pinned under your bowl. There are so many styles and techniques and nothing is clear-cut. You’re not limited by the colors you have in front of you, everything can blend. Anything’s possible. The only limitation you have is your creativity.” An unreadable look passes through his eyes but then he’s back to normal. You don’t get long to dwell on it, though, before he’s back to asking you questions.

***

“So, you said your principal doesn’t care about making illegal rules because it’s a private school, so why not teach at a public school?” You fidget with your spoon, looking away from him before answering.

“Public schools aren’t really a good fit for me. I can’t get comfortable.” He doesn’t push and you’re thankful.

“Speaking of comfort, we should talk about how we’re going to do this.” At your confused expression, he elaborates. “Pretend to be in a relationship, I mean. For starters, if we’re really going to sell this, you can’t be jumping out of your skin every time I touch you. People are going to expect at least a little PDA.” He must see the wide-eyed dread on your face because he holds up a placating hand. “I’m not saying we have to make out every time there are cameras around, but holding hands, hugs, and the occasional kiss here and there are going to have to be something you’re comfortable with.” You nod, weakly. “That being said, if there’s anything specific you don’t want me doing, tell me. I don’t want you to be scared of me. We’re on the same team here. This doesn’t work if we’re not working together.” You nod, nervously. It wasn’t like this last time, this is all new territory for you. “If it’ll help you loosen up, we could just have sex. No strings attached, obviously, but if it’ll make you more comfortable-“

“NO.” Your voice comes out with more force than you intended it to, laced with terror as your heart hammers in your chest. What are you doing here? What were you thinking, agreeing to this? Of course, he’d expect you to have sex with him. He’s used to having a new girl every night. You’re losing the battle with your thoughts when Javy breaks right through them.

“Hey, HEY, easy Roadie, it was just a suggestion, we don’t have to.” He looks like he’s fighting the urge to grab your hands in his.

“Please,” you hate the way the word sounds. You want something to feel real. One first to be yours, truly yours. Clearly, he hates the way it sounds too because his face contorts into something unfamiliar before he nods.

“No sex, done.” He hesitates for a moment before he opens his mouth again, choosing his words carefully and you see a flash of rage in his eyes and you bristle in fear. “Roadie… I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk about this with, but I just,” he shakes his head, pushing forward. “Did, did someone hurt you?” You realize what the rage in his eyes is now. Not anger at you, for turning him down, but protectiveness. Because he’s taken your vehement refusal as something else. You faintly remember Josie mentioning that he has three sisters. Of course, that would be his first instinct. You shake your head quickly.

“No, no, it’s not that.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you and thinks you just don’t trust him as the fire in his eyes doesn’t dim.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, all the girls on the team are really sweet and would be willing to-“

“It’s not that.” You insist and you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

“Not that you have to talk to someone but I’m sure it might help-“

“JAVY, I’m a virgin.” You squeeze your eyes shut before blurting out the words, hiding from the shame that coats your throat in their wake. The silence between the two of you stretches long enough that eventually you crack open an eye to see his reaction, but there isn’t one. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you. You wrench your other eye open, struggling to get comfortable in the silence. Your fingers twist together in your lap as you wait for him to say something.

“That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?” He says, finally and you can see the gears turning in his mind as he follows his new line of thinking but you shake your head.

“No, I, I’ve been kissed before. It’s just… it’s been a while. I’m a little out of practice.” He nods, contemplating something unspoken before he nods again and looks you straight in the eye.

“Roadie, can I kiss you?”

[sassyfrassboss]

Its sick that they're using their children for emotional blackmail. Archie never went to balmoral for Christmas or Sandringham for summer break when the queen was alive. Why are you suddenly wanting a relationship months before the coronation??

I have a very firm belief that they won't be getting a balcony photo. Charles is absolutely going to respect their wishes of their children being "private citizens" who currently don't live in the UK. Harry and meghan want approval by BP of their children, official photographs released, rolls to play in this history-making event. its just another temper tantrum, but throughout all of this both times charles has directly spoken to the public he has acknowledged (with no titles) and their life overseas. I don't think that will change on the biggest day of his life. He wrote his Christmas day speech having already known about the docuseries. Two weeks later after the book, he notified them to move out of frogmore. He's drawing a very clear line in the sand relating to the monarchy, they don't get to take advantage of it. I may not like the fact that the children have titles of a country they have no connection too, but the only thing it does is make them look really bad and desperate. And give something to charles to take away that they very obviously care deeply about.

Saying that the titles are their children’s birthright is just absurd at this point.

I’ll never for get when I was watching the Netflix series and Meghan mentioned her children’s “role” in the family. So she truly thinks her children will one day have a role in the BRF.

Remember the rumors going around that 2023 was going to be their reconciliation year? This tells me that Harry and Meghan didn’t expect TQ to die. It also tells me that they fully expected TQ to issue an apology to them after the Netflix series and the book.

The one thing that is stopping Harry and Meghan from them basking in the BRF fame is that H&M still expect an apology. For what? Who knows. But they will keep making disparaging remarks and paying for negative BRF PR because they want that apology so they can look like they are the victims and the bigger people by returning to the fold. However, the BRF have made it clear that an apology will never happen. Therefore, H&M’s strategy has backfired.

Here is what I think they expected to happen:

1. The Netflix doc and the book raising their popularity ratings to the stratosphere.

2. The Netflix doc and the book getting the world on their side.

3. Using this as leverage to garner an apology from the BRF and to demand the 1/2 in and out deal along with patronages and military titles back.

4. Once #3 happened they would graciously and benevolently accept and start their new journey as the “stars” of the BRF where they and only they attend red carpet events, state dinners, and 5 star tours.

5. #4 would show Hollywood that they are now ever more royal than the royals so they would receive the hero’s welcome back to Cali they expected in 2020.

[emma-radfemcanu]

Another day of me having to defend Stefanos on the internet *sigh* and disclaimer- I am not saying that he doesn’t deserve criticism but as usual it’s way OTT

Basically in the Netflix Break Point show there’s a bit that covers his hideous match against Nick Kyrgios at Wimbledon last year (I’m not going into depth because it still upsets me a year later lol)- NK is appallingly behaved (verbal abuse towards umpires and opponents, spitting at the audience/ on court, being rude to ballkids) but a lot of people find him entertaining and umpires seem to let him get away with it. IDK why, I know each to their own but I find it incredibly uncomfortable to watch

Anyway it also covers Stef’s reaction to it (don’t get me wrong he didn’t cover himself in glory here either but I cannot blame him for being frustrated), he was unhappy and basically said something along the lines of NK being ‘uneducated’ and that kind of behaviour should be saved for basketball. And a few people have picked up on the racial undertones- and I absolutely get why, I feel like at best it was just badly expressed (funny that people seem to have conveniently forgotten that English is his 3rd language)

I think if Stef had said that about Tiafoe or someone there would be more ground to it, he is black NK isn’t- I think Tiafoe is quite annoying but he’s largely harmless, and it’s definitely true that some people get more shit for bad behaviour than others. But NK behaves awfully, he’s said himself that he wishes it was more like other sports, and I know that Stef is not the victim here but the double standards are something else- he’s getting piled on for this, but where was this energy for all the times when he was made fun of for being from a poorer country, or he’s been mocked for being too soft and sensitive (and then people will ask why there aren’t any out gay players, I mean there’s your answer)

Again I kind of feel bad for this because absolutely Stef deserves criticism for this, but it’s so transparent that most people only ‘care’ because they don’t like him and now they have an excuse. Like there was a Med fan on twitter making fun of Stef for flopping a bit this year (even though he’s been injured for a chunk of it) and just??? Is this really the time? Stef is rightly being criticised but this person is just using it as an excuse to shit on someone they don’t like? Rightly or wrongly if it was Casper or Andrey or anyone generally well liked who’d said it no one would care

But Stef did post on social media earlier apologising and trying to explain what he meant, and while it was definitely clumsy, he’s clearly gone to the effort of writing it himself instead of sending a shiny PR apology and I think that’s a good thing. Like I say, I’m honestly not trying to defend it (even though it was pretty clear what he meant in the first place) but the double standards and hypocrisy really bother me

I literally saw someone say that Stef may as well have said a racial slur or ‘wE dOnT wAnT bLaCk PeOpLe In ThIs SpOrT’ and that was certainly a reach- absolutely criticise him for what he did say, but let’s not pretend that he did that

At least Break Point is a flop lol

[spidernerdsblog]

Hi! I’d like to request a Tom imagine where he becomes distant and not the same Tom you knew before so when you lay in bed on opposite side facing different directions, you start to silently sob and he doesn’t notice. It goes on for a couple of nights and you leave early in the morning but one day Tom wakes up and sees the tear stained pillow and feels awful because he’s been so cold to the reader. Thanks :))

False God

A/N : This took me forever apologies for that. Based on the song ‘false god’ by TS. Hope you like this.

Pairing : Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings : angst 

Everything seemed perfect until it wasn’t. Your rather happy and prosperous life was crumbling in front of your eyes and you didn’t know what to do. A rift has been forming between you and Tom and it is getting wider day by day. 

Since the day Tom has returned from filming he has been acting distant. Your long late night conversations where he used to pour his heart out to sharing each and every thing that happened with him while he was away has come down to bare minimum only if it's necessary. His hugs no longer had the warmth you were familiar with; neither were his kisses. It felt forced and deliberate.

You knew that being in a relationship with a world known actor like Tom would be tough. He is always travelling to different places around the world to make more movies but never you’d imagine that distance would become the weak point of your relationship. Everybody had warned you about times like this when the distance between you would feel way too much as if you don’t know the person anymore. It made you question your decisions, maybe it was crazy of you to rush into a relationship. The promises you made to be there for each other now feels stupid and childish.

After finishing all your daily chores you headed to your shared bedroom. Tom was already in bed glancing at the ceiling lost in his own thoughts as you walked to your side of the bed and laid down. Everything was so still only the shallow breathing of yours could be heard the silence cutting to your core. You tried to take the initiative and went to wrap your arms around him and snuggle close as you always used to do. 

“Not tonight baby I’m tired” to your surprise Tom pushed you away with a hint irritation in his voice as he turned to his side facing his back to you. You retracted your hands in guilt of coming off as clingy. You turn to your side as you sob silently, the fact that you were so close to each other but it felt he was out of your reach.

You hoped that things would get better, maybe he needed some space but it just got worse for you. It looked like he was avoiding you as he spent most of the time outside of the house. Is this what everybody warned you about? The guy who used to follow you around like a lovesick fool suddenly you feel you have become an eye sore for him. But still you wanted to hold on to the last straw. You were blinded by the faith in him and the love you had that made you keep your hopes alive that this shall pass and soon he come running back to you.

You didn’t want to give up so easily as you tried to make him talk to you about whatever it was bothering him but he was always cold and resilient about it.

“Hey hon let's go out for dinner tonight what do you say?” you ask thinking that you both needed to blow of some steam and enjoy.

“Nah I'm good babe” he turns down your offer plainly engrossed in watching whatever was playing on the TV while sitting on the couch.

“Oh ok” you say gloomily as you turn to go back to your room when you hear his phone ring.

“Hey Haz what's up mate?” Tom sounded cheerful as he talked to his best friend.

“At the pub? Yeah sure why not. I'll be there by seven” he confirms before hanging up the phone.

That hurted you immensely has your relationship come to this where he’d rather not go out spend a little time with you. Has his dislike for you gone to that extent? you thought fighting back your tears. The last blow came when the other day you accidentally overheard him while he was in the study speaking to someone on his phone.

“No I can’t do this anymore. I’m fucking tired!” Tom said with distaste in his voice.

That was it you couldn’t bear to hear anymore as you ran to your bedroom with tears in your eyes. You sat on the bed as your eyes went to the framed photographs of you and Tom as memories flashed in front of your eyes. You looked so happy around each other everything seemed so perfect but now he is tired of you. You are no more his favorite thing to look at. If it is so then why pretend? If he’s eventually gonna break your heart why not get it done already you don’t want to be a burden in someone’s life.

With these thoughts you cried yourself to sleep only wishing if this was a bad dream and once you wake up you will find yourself in his arms. 

Next day you woke up early in the morning to find Tom sleeping next to you peacefully, a loose curl falling over his eye. A smile formed on your face as you went to brush it off but stopped when the memory of last night returned back to you. You felt suffocated as the air in the room felt heavy. You wanted to scream and vent out everything you had inside you, you just want an answer to why is he acting like this? What was your fault?

Your head started to ache and after a lot of thought you decided to go for a walk and get some fresh air to clear your head.

Tom stirs in his sleep and turns around on his side, his hand reaching out to pull you closer out of habit but he is met with thin air. He pats around your side of the bed with his eyes still closed to find the sheets cold. His eyes shoot open realizing you weren’t there as he sits up.

“Y/N” he calls out, rubbing his eyes. His eyes went to your pillow, the fabric of the pillow case covered with wet blotches as realization dawned upon him. You were crying and he was the reason behind your tears. 

“Shit..” he was overcome with guilt and slid off the bed.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Tom called out to you rushing down the stairs but you weren’t in the living room

“Love, where are you?” he frantically searched everywhere for you in the house but you were nowhere to be found. He dropped down on the couch letting out a deep sigh in regret. He himself knew that he had been distant to you for a reason that he cannot say to you which was eating him up from inside. He hurt you to the extent that now you are gone. He had no idea what to do now, where to go and find you. He was about to call Harry when the front door unlocked and you walked in with Tessa by your side.

“That was a nice walk isn’t it Tess?” you say catching your breath as you slip off your running shoes when your eyes went to a very devastated Tom.

“Tom are you alright?” you ask with concern. His eyes darted towards you as he stands up and sprints to you engulfing you in his embrace. Oh how much you missed this you thought closing your eyes in content face nuzzled into his chest as you inhaled his faint cologne. You pull away after some time and gazed into his eyes red and puffy. A few tears of joy of seeing you again slipped down them.

“Is everything ok bubs?” you ask him again cradling his face wiping his tears with your thumbs affectionately.

“Where were you?” his voice comes out broken.

“I woke up early so thought to go on a walk with Tess. Plus I was feeling very cooped up in the house so needed some fresh air”

“I-I saw the empty bed then I saw your pillow I-I thought you left, I got so scared Y/N” he sniffled.

“Truth be told I was actually thinking of leaving. I can't live like this anymore, Tom. You and me living under the same roof acting like strangers it’s becoming mentally strenuous for me” you finally vent it out.

“I know- I know I have been a complete jerk to you lately. I was so wrapped up inside my head-”

“It’s ok Tom if you don’t want to be in this relationship anymore just say it I won’t bother you anymore” you say bitterly.

“What are you saying love?” Tom looked at you in disbelief.

“Last night I heard you, Tom, that you’re tired of this, of me. Tom you should have just told me I would have left then and there”

“No that wasn’t what I was talking about” Tom shakes his head dismissively as you tried to stay calm.

“It’s ok Tom people fall out of love I’m not blaming you but you should have told me first instead of telling about it to someone else”

“You don’t understand Y/N. I-I…” he slumps on the couch holding his forehead feeling mentally drained out. You sit beside him holding on to his arm.

“Then make me understand Tom. What is it? Just talk to me baby” you pleaded your hand went to cup his face as you made him look at you.

“Derek, my PR manager wants me to break up with you” he finally lets it out as you gave him a confused and surprised look.

“What? But why?”

“Apparently he thinks our relationship is affecting my social image” he sighs sadly.

“Do you think that too?” you mumble looking down.

“What? No, love. I would never. You are the best thing that has happened to me” he reassures you “Since the day he told me had me so stressed I didn’t know how to handle this whole thing and in that process I pushed you away, I hurt you...” he rambles.   

“But what are you gonna do?”

“Nothing. I told him I can’t do this and I’m tired”

“So you weren’t..?” you looked at him with doubtful eyes.

“Yes honey I was telling him that I can’t do whatever he is asking me to do” he cradles your face with his large palms “I can never get over you, not in this lifetime at least. And I’m sorry I acted like that. Can you forgive me love?” he looks at you with guilt in his eyes. You break into a soft smile as you hold to his hands.

“I can never be angry at you dummy. Just please don't do this again if anything bothers you just talk to me okay?” Tom nods in understanding “I don’t like to see you like this. You mean the world to me you know that right?”

“And so are you to me love. I promise this won't happen again” he says pulling you in his embrace.

[sevlgi]

hit and run

requested: no

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: a  shit ton of angst, some fluff

contents: idol!rosé, actress!y/n, closeted!rosé, costar!au, slight enemies-to-lovers, unhappy endings because i’m a bitch, a lot of attempted cinematic parallels, italicized dialogue is when they’re speaking as their characters

warnings: slight homophobia

synopsis: There’s absolutely no reason for you to get involved with a costar who you should hate by all accounts. But of course, you manage to forget that love is usually more like a hit-and-run than a cruise ship. 

a/n: while i was writing this, i  imagined this as what happened before rosie sang “gone”, so maybe you can think of it like that too? i’m honestly so terrified of this flopping lmao... 

for a little background on the film: Y/N plays Luna, a pirate captain who unknowingly sacrificed her family in order to have the power to fight the regime that Rosé’s character Helen is a part of. Helen approaches Luna, determined to help her bring justice, but Helen is unable to choose between the benefits of staying with the regime, and following what she knows is right and destroying her life as a result.

word count: 6.8k

The last thing you want to hear on the morning of your first script reading is that the actress playing your love interest in the film has changed.

“What?” you say loudly, straightening in the backseat. Your manager frowns, and you sit obediently, but the scowl doesn’t leave your face. “What do you mean the actress changed?”

“Yeah. She had to leave the movie at the last minute,” he sighs.

Sooyoung was chosen alongside you, after lengthy interviews testing whether the two of you would be able to handle your characters’ dynamic. It took weeks for the director to decide that you were the pair that she wanted, so the news that you’ll be meeting your costar for the first time in front of paparazzi is quite the shock to your system. “Shit. Then who’s the replacement?”

Your manager presses his lips together firmly before answering, “Park Chaeyoung. She’s an idol.”

You groan and slump down again. “Great. Another idol actress? Please don’t tell me that this is her first role too. Oh god, is she straight?”

“Yes to all of the above,” Chan says tensely.

Maybe you’re being dramatic, but it’s honestly a big deal. It’s the first leading role you’ve bagged, especially in a mainstream LGBTQ+ movie, and Sooyoung was the best costar you could’ve picked. You’ve never met Park Chaeyoung before, and you already know that all your plans are going to be messed up.

Chan pulls the car into the parking lot, and you scowl when you realize that most of the paparazzi have arrived. “We’re going around the back. Y/N, promise me one thing: don’t make a scene, okay?” your manager pleads. “I’m not happy about it either, but Chaeyoung has a good reputation. You’ll just ruin yours if you blow up at her.”

“I promise,” you answer through gritted teeth. You slip through the open side door as soon as you get out of the car, ignoring Chan’s call after you to have a good time like you would’ve.

To make matters worse, you don’t even get a chance to talk to the director or Chaeyoung before you’re swarmed by a crowd of reporters, even if that ‘talk’ would’ve consisted of more yelling than anything. “Y/N, Y/N!”

“Okay, let her up!” Seulgi shouts, pushing her way through. She grips your arm to lead you towards the cast table, whispering under her breath, “I’ll explain later. But just run with it, okay?”

You have plenty of problems with idol actresses, but you’ve never been inclined to say all those problems to their faces. Until now, that is.  Now, you’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a girl you know has absolutely no credentials to be playing the other role in your upcoming movie, resisting the urge to ball your script up and throw it in her face.

There’s nothing wrong with Park Chaeyoung as a person-- she’s admittedly gorgeous, probably sweet, and you’re sure she isn’t a bad actress in any sense. The only thing wrong with the situation is that she’s painfully straight and auditioning to be your love interest in what might be Korea’s first mainstream lesbian film, and that you have never spoken to her before.

Chaeyoung avoids your stare with a clenched jaw, and in normal circumstances, you would already be apologizing profusely for making her uncomfortable. In this circumstance, though, your obvious grudge against her only contributes to the dynamic her character is supposed to have with yours.

“Miss Kang, is it true that the actors were only picked today?” 

The director grimaces, and the both of you turn to look at the cameras flashing by the sides of the room. It was never the plan to allow paparazzi to sit in on the first reading that you and Chaeyoung would be doing together, especially since it’s true that Chaeyoung was only chosen hours ago, after the original actress bailed. Even though your grudge should be against the girl who left, it’s easier to glare at the one sitting next to you. “Not exactly. Y/N has been confirmed for the role of Luna for months, but we recently added Chaeyoung as Helen. But we can assure that their chemistry will be wonderful,” Seulgi reassures the audience. What a lie.

Yet another reporter calls out, “How much of the script will we be seeing today, and when will the trailer be released?”

“Since the casting was changed today, the trailer has been delayed,” Seulgi says. You can hear the panic in her voice, and clear your throat. “As for the script… we’re only doing part of one scene that will show up in the trailer today, so we’ll just let them begin. Y/N?”

As you take a sip of water to prepare yourself, you almost hope that Chaeyoung messes up her part. It would be bad press, sure, and it would only contribute to Seulgi’s stress, but it would be satisfying for her to realize that she doesn’t deserve her part. She’s just an idol, after all, and she’s taking away representation from the people who need it.

“Are you saying you’re better than me?” you begin, your voice ice-cold.

You watch Chaeyoung’s throat bob, but her voice is steady and clear when she says her line. “No! I’m not saying that I’m better than you… but by all accounts, there’s no way you should have this power.”

“Would you be less scared then?” You pause, watch as Chaeyoung’s expression changes to the panic that her character’s would. “I’m kidding, Helen. I did things to get these powers, things that I’m not proud of.”

“Why would you do that? You’re strong… you don’t need them.”

“I’ve never been-- shit.” The tips of your ears start to burn, and suddenly, your lines are swimming before your eyes. Maybe all your hoping and wishing that Chaeyoung messes up has reflected onto you instead.

She attempts to remind you, “I haven’t always--”

“I know,” you hiss, but your voice is too loud in the silent room. Chaeyoung turns bright pink, too, but you still can’t seem to say your lines out loud. Shit, shit, shit--

“I’m just trying to help,” she sighs.

You whip your head to glare at her, and she winces at the daggers you send in her direction. “Shut the hell up--”

“Okay, the script reading will end here,” Seulgi announces loudly, and you bite down hard on your tongue. You don’t dare to look at the other cast members, don’t dare to think about how they must be guilting you for cutting their PR short. “Thank you everyone, please leave with security.”

You stay in your seat, staring at your script with burning eyes until you feel a hand on your shoulder and jolt. “Hey,” Chaeyoung reminds you, “we can leave.”

“Don’t touch me” is your only answer, and you storm out of the room. Alone.

The next time you see Chaeyoung is the next day, at a script-reading that the paparazzi knows nothing about. (You do see a friend request from a Park Chaeyoung the night before, but you ignore it.)

Seulgi attempts a smile, but it doesn’t hide the bags under her eyes. She claps and raises her voice to get the cast’s attention. “Okay, everyone. We didn’t get what we wanted yesterday, but that’s fine. Um… let’s try yesterday’s scene from Chaeyoung’s part, okay? From ‘you don’t need them’.”

Chaeyoung nods. “You’re strong… you don’t need them,” she starts, worry tinging into her voice.

“I haven’t always been strong,” you reply, your voice harsher than it should be just to stop yourself from messing up again.

“Still. Powers aren’t everything, Luna, it’s too hard to have them.”

You sigh. “Newsflash, princess. It’s harder not to.”

“But--” Chaeyoung interjects.

“Did you ever think,” you cut her off, “that I didn’t care that it’d be hard? Did you ever think that the rest of us are tired of you abusing the thing that you’re given, but we have to fight for?”

You look right to Seulgi once you finish, ignoring the part underneath that says you should look to Chaeyoung at the end of the scene. The director smiles anyway. “That was great, you two. I think you capture the tension perfectly, which is a relief.”

You fight the urge to laugh. “I know that changing our main cast so close to the actual production is really difficult,” Seulgi sighs. “And I’m really sorry to inconvenience you all. The schedule is really squished now, and we just have to work through it. Chaeyoung, Y/N, all I ask is that you try to work together, okay? I know you’ll be amazing together.”

Chaeyoung speaks, possibly for the first time besides her lines. “Of course, Ms. Bae. I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure. We have to cut this short, again, but we’re scheduled for costume fitting right now,” Seulgi groans. “We have to at least get the outfits for the trailer to fit. Sorry, everyone. Down the hall, okay?”

Of course, you and Chaeyoung have to get fit together. The only sound in the hallway is that of her heels clicking on the wood, and you resist the urge to shout at her to stop. Luckily, you arrive in the fitting room before you can.

Your eyes widen at the dress hanging there. It’s incredible, even without the layers that would support the skirt-- you can’t even imagine how the beading and pink silk would look on Chaeyoung. Ethereal, probably. “Y/N, yours is here,” the costume director laughs, beckoning you over.

Even though your own outfit isn’t nearly as opulent, you can’t help but admire the gold detailing on the cuffs and the tailoring. “Thank god yours doesn’t take so much sewing,” the director grunts, pinning the side. “You know, the two of you are going to look fantastic in these, even if we have to spill all that blood on them to shoot the trailer.”

“Sooyoung would’ve looked better.” It’s mean, and it’s a low blow, but the director doesn’t take your bait.

She pokes her head out to where Chaeyoung’s being fitted. “Now? Okay, Y/N, go out there. We need to take a look at the two of you together.”

You can’t stop your jaw from dropping when you see Chaeyoung. She’s all candyfloss hair and gold adorning her tiny waist, and in all her glory, you can’t stop yourself from thinking that maybe she was made for the role. “You look really good,” she compliments softly.

Nodding stiffly, you turn for the seamstresses. Chaeyoung moves to fiddle with her gloves when she realizes that you have absolutely no interest in continuing the conversation.

Well, if there’s one thing you can nitpick about her, it isn’t how she looks; she looks absolutely perfect for the role of Princess Helen, maybe even more perfect than Sooyoung. 

One of the costume directors steps in. “Okay, you can get changed out, but you have to come back in a few hours,” she tells you. “We have to make a lot of changes, then fit you again.”

You step down from the podium, going towards your dressing room without a second thought until Chaeyoung calls for you. “Y/N? Do you want to have lunch later? In your trailer or something?”

“Sure,” you answer, barely glancing back. When you do, all you see is her with shiny puppy eyes, and in her giant gown, it’s eerily similar to the role she’s supposed to be playing.

“It’s nice. You’ve decorated it?”

You nod absentmindedly, clearing the narrow couch off for yourself to sit on, since Chaeyoung has taken the only chair that could fit in the trailer. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve had it for a few months, so.”

She winces. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you frown. Chaeyoung apologizes too much, but at least she’s upfront about whatever she has to say.

Your costar sighs, “For usurping the role? You must’ve gotten attached to Sooyoung, and it’s got to be horrible for me to just… arrive like this.”

“You know… that’s part of it.” You can’t lie; a big part of the resentment you hold against Chaeyoung is the fact that she took a role meant for someone else, someone you were friends with. “The other thing… I don’t like idol actresses,” you tell her.

Chaeyoung’s brows furrow, and she leans forward. “Why? I mean, why don’t you?”

You pause to think about it. “Well… I mean, think about it like this. Sooyoung and my auditions went for weeks before we were chosen, as a pair. Didn’t you get this role because you were an idol? You had to audition, sure, but I bet you just flashed a few smiles and read the script and got chosen. How is that fair?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but you hold your hand up and continue, “And the other thing. You’re straight.”

Chaeyoung chokes on air at that, spluttering, “What? You hate me because I’m straight?”

“No,” you say incredulously, “Well, I don’t hate you. But you being straight, and landing the lead role in a film like this… you’re taking away representation. And that’s kind of shitty of you.”

The air inside the trailer becomes suffocating, and Chaeyoung’s fiddling with the jacket in her lap finally stops when she throws it aside and stands up. She sounds like she’s about to cry when she says quietly, “Have you ever considered that I’m not straight? It’s not… it’s not that easy to be out about it--”

“Oh, cry me a river,” you groan. “Look, I apologize for assuming, but if you want to act in lesbian roles, you can’t pretend to be straight. It’s all for your fans, isn’t it? Another part of being an idol--”

She stands up, then storms right out of the trailer without another word, the door banging closed. The only thing you can do in response is sigh and utter a quiet, “Shit”.

Perhaps it’s just your luck that the first proper scene you have to film with Chaeyoung is your culminating kiss scene.

It shouldn’t be in the trailer at all-- according to the scene schedule, the two of you would’ve filmed your scenes together in chronological order, and the kiss would’ve been at the end, hopefully after a reconciliation between the two of you. However, for some inexplicable reason, it’s going to be the first one you do, without a single second of rehearsal.

You’re a one-take wonder, and you always have been, but you can’t help but think about how impossible it’s going to be to pull off such an intense scene with someone you just fought with. Sighing, you lean over to fiddle with your hair; it’s slightly tangled now, and there’s a fake scrape on the side of your cheek. 

At a side, Chaeyoung is similarly beat up, fake blood smeared on the left side of her face. Her long hair has been put in an updo and then taken down, and parts of her dress are ripped; to you, she looks more like Helen than herself now.

“Okay, everyone, are we ready? Positions, please!”

You arrange yourself on the ground where you should be, holding a handkerchief to your cheek like instructed as Chaeyoung stands by the camera to run to you. Exhaling sharply, your eyes meet hers for the first time in days. “Action!”

Chaeyoung sprints to you as soon as she’s cued, falling in front of you in a heap. “Luna,” she gasps, reaching a gloved hand out to the ‘injured’ half of your face.

“I’m fine,” you smile weakly. The camera hovers by Chaeyoung’s shoulder, and you soften your gaze as much as possible as your hand comes up to hers.

The other girl only moves closer, her eyes scanning yours and her dress surrounding the both of you like a sea of gauze. Her nose is almost brushing up against yours, and you mutter softly, “Be careful. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want.”

“Well, what do you want?” Chaeyoung implores, almost inaudible. Her breath quivers, and you feel it when you reach forward to cup her jaw. “Luna, what do you want right now?”

“I’m not making a move until you tell me to,” you shake your head. 

The blonde’s hands slip off your face, and she braces herself on your thighs instead. She laughs breathily, “Coward.”

“Your coward, huh?”

Chaeyoung pauses, scraping her teeth across her bottom lip. It’s so quiet that you think you could hear a pin drop, and the torches held up by the crew flicker across her face so naturally. “If you want to be.”

There’s probably another line that comes after, but with Chaeyoung so close to you, it swims blurrily in your mind. So instead, you just lean up, pull her down, and connect your lips.

She plays along, thankfully, stumbling slightly in her character’s eagerness to get a little closer. The only thing you can hear is Chaeyoung’s slight gasp when you let your hands wander down to her waist, and it’s almost scary how absorbed you are in the scene.

“Okay, cut!” Seulgi’s shout breaks you from your trance, and you hold your hands up as if in surrounder. Chaeyoung’s cheeks are red yet again when she sits up, staring anywhere other than you.

Your director hops off her chair to run towards you, a huge grin on her face. “That was perfect,” she shouts. “Y/N, I think you forgot a line? But it worked out amazingly. The one-take wonder, right?”

You grin when she pats you on the shoulder, a little harder than necessary. Apparently, all your worries were for nothing, as you and Chaeyoung stand to monitor your own shot in the screen next to Joohyun.

You can’t even hear all the praise she showers on the two of you, and you pay no attention to all the details she points out that apparently showcase your perfect chemistry with your costar. All you feel is a slight squeeze on your hand, hidden in the mess of fabric by your side.

You jolt awake at the sound of your phone ringing loudly by your side, finding an unknown number as the caller ID. Accepting hesitantly, you greet, “Hello?”

“Y/N? Did Chan give me the right number?”

Oh. It’s Chaeyoung. “Yeah.” You clear your throat in an attempt to sound a little less drowsy, then repeat, “Right number. Why’d you ask Chan?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to find you when you never accepted my request,” she laughs quietly. “Um, I have to record the OST today, and I was wondering whether you’d want to come watch? Chan said you didn’t really have any scenes later today.”

“Um. Okay. I’ll ask Chan to bring me,” you answer, then hang up. Your head swims slightly, partially due to the fact that you woke up to the piercing sound of your ringtone and partially because you just don’t understand why Chaeyoung’s reaching out again. You should be the one apologizing, after the tangent you went off on, and you highly doubt that your kiss scene doubled as an apology. Of course, you’ll take it.

Your manager is more than pleased to pick you up this time, but thankfully, he doesn’t question you. If he did, he’d probably be the one you shouted at.

The studio is honestly too small for two people, probably hastily set up, but you recognize the recording equipment from a video of Chaeyoung recording one of her group’s songs. And you recognize the girl already standing in the recording booth, waving you over. “Hi,” she smiles, and for all you try, you don’t see a hint of malice.

“Hey,” you mumble, taking a seat. “Uh… I’m sorry.”

“Wow, straightforward,” she tries to joke. “What for?”

You scratch the back of your neck, sighing, “For assuming, for blowing up on you, for… I don’t know, kind of everything. I’m an asshole, even if what I said wasn’t wrong.”

Chaeyoung chuckles, fiddling with the mic. “I mean, I appreciate the apology, but I wasn’t great either. You definitely had some truth behind what you said, even if it was kind of too to the point.”

“I know. You were just trying to apologize and help us become civil, and I kind of ruined it,” you hum. The other girl adjusts the lyric stand as you continue, “But I’m hoping you understand why I had to say what I did?”

“I do,” she agrees. “You’re definitely right that it’s not good representation at all, I just wish you had heard me out.”

You nod uncomfortably, changing the way you sit on the couch just to distract yourself. “So… you’re gay? I’m just asking because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about it, and I’ve seen plenty of your interviews.”

“So you watch my interviews?” Chaeyoung teases. When you scowl, she just smiles, “I can’t say specifically, but I am confused. You said last time that it’s just another part of being an idol, and you’re… you’re right. It’s taboo for idols to be gay, even though Korea’s opening up to it a bit more now. So even though I want to, I don’t think I can ever be out about it.”

“I understand. And I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

She swallows, throat bobbing. “Thank you. Hey, Y/N… would you mind singing with me?”

“What?” You stare up at her incredulously; it’s not like your singing would make the other girl faint on the spot, but you definitely don’t possess an angelic voice like hers, either.

But maybe it’s an olive branch. “Just… can you match this note?” She hums, and you attempt to create the same pitch. “Okay. Can you do the chorus part in that key, while I do it in the main one? We’ll sound better like that,” Chaeyoung offers.

Against your better judgement, you stand, and shuffle into the recording booth next to her. “If this sounds bad, you’re taking the blame,”  you warn, and she giggles while twisting the stand so you can see.

You do sound good together, maybe to a level that you would’ve never anticipated.

You know that something’s off when Chan doesn’t wake you up bright and early on your birthday, even if Seulgi already promised that you wouldn’t have to go to work on the day of. After spending many a birthday with him, you’ve already gotten used to him tugging you up just to take you outside and celebrate somehow.

You know something’s especially off when you hear a female voice cursing from your kitchen, and smell something burning.

“Who the shit-- Chaeyoung?”

The girl turns in surprise, caught red-handed with a piece of burnt toast pinched between her fingers. “Um. Hi?” she offers weakly.

Suddenly self-conscious, you cross your arms over the faded sweatshirt you wear. In your own apartment, Chaeyoung is leagues more put-together in the summery dress she wears, her dyed hair tossed in a braid and glitter shining at the corners of her eyes. “Hello?”

“Chan said you wouldn’t be awake for a few hours,” she sighs, shaking her head as she tosses the toast in the trash. “And I wasn’t supposed to burn the toast.”

“What were you supposed to do?” you question, stepping closer. There’s a cake box on the counter, as well as a couple suspicious tubes of icing right by it, and you think you know what’s going on.

Chaeyoung huffs out an exasperated breath. “I was supposed to surprise you. Chan has something going on at home, so he sent me to supervise your birthday instead. Obviously, I messed that up.”

“It’s fine,” you shrug, taking a seat at the counter and reaching for the icing. “I’ve always wanted to decorate a cake anyway.”

She looks surprised at that, but a smile breaks out across her face. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. It’s partially a lie, but you’re decently sure that Chaeyoung will refuse to let you do most of the work anyways. “Uh. I’ll just change first, and then we can get that going?”

“Yeah,” she grins, and you take it as your cue to scurry off to the bedroom.

By the time you come back, there’s a plate of not-burnt toast on your counter, and Chaeyoung’s pouring out two glasses of the juice that you can never bring yourself to buy because of the price tag. “I hope you like it, this is one of my favorites.”

“Like it? I love this,” you gasp, surging forward to pick up one of the glasses. “It’s expensive as hell, though.”

“Well, I couldn’t get you a gift, so I thought a nice morning would suffice,” Chaeyoung laughs. She unties the bow on the cake box to reveal a completely bare vanilla cake, a few packets of sprinkles that you hadn’t noticed now lying next to it. “Do you want to start?”

“Oh, sure.” You choose the blue icing after a bit of debating, and pick up the spatula that your costar offers you. “You didn’t have to, though, I would’ve been okay on my own today.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, “I mean, I didn’t have anything else to do, and I wouldn’t like to be alone on my birthday.”

“How do you usually celebrate?” you question, glancing up at her.

She pauses to think, then answers, “Well, I do live with my members, so we’ll get something to eat. Sometimes, we’re on vacation, so we just do what we can, but I like staying in the dorm to receive the things that their families send me.”

“It sounds sweet.”

“It is,” she grins. “I honestly don’t know what I would do on my own, it seems lonely-- Oh. I’m sorry.”

“What for? It is kind of lonely,” you admit, squeezing a glob of icing out. It’s definitely not as graceful as you would’ve appreciated, and you catch Chaeyoung stifling a laugh. “Chan lived with me at the beginning, but he eventually moved out when I got a girlfriend. Obviously, that didn’t laugh.”

“Sorry,” the other girl repeats again, and you wave a hand out. “When was that?”

“She moved out two years ago,” you answer. “And I’ve been alone since. Or, lonely, not always alone.”

Chaeyoung nods just so that you know she heard you. She accepts the icing tube when you hand it to her, making a spiral that’s infuriatingly better than yours. “How about you? I know you said you aren’t out, but have you dated yet?” you question.

She shakes her head, admitting, “Not yet. I don’t really know how to, you know? You assumed I was straight when you first saw me, so I think everyone else does too.”

“Sorry,” you say, an echo of her.

Your costar doesn’t respond, only setting the spatula down once the basic blue icing is smooth. “I think we’re supposed to refrigerate this before decorating, right?”

You grimace. “Well, I don’t know. I stopped watching cake videos years ago, so I’ll just listen to you.”

Chaeyoung hums and ties the box back up. “Okay, then I’ll just do it. Um, do you mind ordering chicken or something while we wait?”

“Sure.” Reaching for your phone, you ask, “Would you be opposed to romcoms?”

“I’m never opposed to romcoms,” the other girl answers.

You have to remind yourself to order two servings of chicken, something that you haven’t done in a while. But it’s comforting, in a way, to not be alone again.

“Can you believe we’ve only got a week left of filming? I feel like I haven’t seen you at all.”

You wince guiltily, even though you know that Yerim doesn’t mean it. Acting with your friend was originally a huge incentive for you to accept the film’s role, but the two of you quickly discovered that you had almost no scenes together, and with your push-and-pull with Chaeyoung, you forgot all about it. “Sorry, Yerim.”

She makes an incredulous expression, swatting your arm. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I’m happy you’re pursuing love and all that, and besides, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to act together.”

Blinking, you set your cup down on the counter. “Pursuing love?”

Yerim raises her eyebrow and says, “Yeah. Aren’t you and Chaeyoung together yet? We’ve been filming for two months, I’ll be shocked if you still haven't kissed and made up.”

“Uh. Well, we’ve kissed, but I don’t think it counted,” you frown. 

Your friend sighs and rolls her eyes. She’s all too used to how dense you are, and apparently, she’s finally gotten tired of it. “You’re an idiot. You literally met the morning of your first script reading, and you knew each other for… what, a week before you had your kiss scene? There’s got to be something there.”

“No.”

Right on cue, a few of the other cast members arrive, Chaeyoung sandwiched between them. “Have you seen the articles?” Nayeon grins, waving her phone around in the air. She’s drunk, obviously, but you have to indulge her.

“Which articles?”

She shoves the screen in your face as an answer, and you cringe when you find a screencap of you and Chaeyoung. “You won’t believe the chemistry-- nope, I’m not reading that.” You hand the phone back to Nayeon, then press it in her hand when she doesn’t take it. Yerim sends you a knowing expression, one that you definitely don’t like.

“Aw, come on! It’s good press,” Nayeon whines. “And a great kiss scene.”

“Don’t be weird,” Chaeyoung warns. She doesn’t seem to be drunk at all, though she does look fantastic in the silver dress that she wears. Your eyes linger on her for an embarrassing amount of time.

Nayeon pouts. She’s bubbly-- you’ve learned that much through acting alongside her in a total of three productions so far. You note that your costar doesn’t seem to be so accustomed to her temperament yet. “You’re no fun, Chaeng. We all know you enjoyed it.”

She goes bright pink at that amidst Yerim’s joking coos. “The token straight, converted?” your friend gasps, and you elbow her to stop her from going too far.

Apparently, it already has. “I didn’t!” Chaeyoung defends herself.

“Prove it,” Nayeon demands, slipping when she attempts to lean on the counter next to you.

Chaeyoung goes silent at that, apparently unable to find a way to ‘prove it’. You finally sigh, “Okay, I think that’s enough teas--”

If it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve long since memorized your entire script book, you would almost think that Chaeyoung reaching forward to tug on the front of your shirt is a scene between your two characters. After all, it’s perfectly in character for your eyes to widen comically as the other girl kisses you right on the lips. 

It’s also in character for Nayeon to start whooping next to you when your hands wrap around Chaeyoung’s waist to pull her in closer. You part at the noise. “You certainly look like you liked it,” Nayeon grins. 

“Yeah, get a room,” Yerim follows, and you shove her.

“You know what? Maybe we will.” Ignoring your friends’ jeering, you grab Chaeyoung’s wrist and lead her down the hallway, though not to a bedroom like you joked you would. “Hey. You okay? I didn’t know if that teasing crossed a line,” you whisper worriedly.

She bites down on her lip, but instead of answering you, Chaeyoung tilts your face up and leans closer, only stopped by your hand on her wrist. “Chae…”

“I’m sorry, this… this isn’t what you want, is it?” She steps back, mouth already opening to apologize, but you stop her from leaving you alone in the hallway.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” With the flashing neon lights echoing in her eyes, you can’t tell what Chaeyoung’s feeling, and you can’t tell if she’s willing to answer you properly at all. “I’m not making a move until you tell me to.”

Still, you don’t hear her say a word, until your grip starts to loosen on her wrist. “Did you drive here yourself?” she finally asks, barely audible. You nod hesitantly, and Chaeyoung’s voice grows firmer when she says, “I’m telling you to make a move.”

“I thought you were questioning?”

She swallows hard and takes your hand. “Not anymore.”

You don’t taste any alcohol when you lick your lower lip, and so, you nod. It’s stupid, especially considering how quickly your time together is about to end.

But for once, you know what you want.

“Good luck out there, Chae,” you smile, arms wrapped around the girl’s waist. 

“Thanks,” she hums, adjusting her hair yet again in the mirror. “We’re almost done filming, I have to promote us well so that we have enough money to at least put the damn film out.”

“Mm.” Your thumb smooths over the sliver of skin exposed by her top, and you place your chin on her shoulder to look at the two of you together.

She glances down at you. “What? Are you thinking about something?”

“Sort of,” you shrug. “I just can’t believe we’re almost done, but we… we just started this. You know, this thing between us.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a thing. But it doesn’t have to stop with filming,” Chaeyoung says offhandedly.

Raising an eyebrow, you question, “Doesn’t it? It’s going to be suspicious for us to constantly be seen together after filming together, I’ve seen the way your fans behave. Especially while you’re not out.”

“I think I can negotiate that with my company,” the other girl shakes her head.

You joke, “What, you release another two albums if you get to come out about having a girlfriend?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Chaeyoung responds immediately. Her ears pink endearingly, and you wait for her to clarify, “In secret for now, obviously. But… one day, I’ll be out about it. I promise.”

“Don’t make empty promises, okay?” You press a kiss to her bare shoulder and let her go when you hear a knock at the dressing room door. “Do good!”

“Alright, Chaeyoung, it’s about time that we ask you some questions about your upcoming film, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” your costar smiles, and you raise your head from your phone to watch the screen. She’s sitting cross-legged across from some of the most famous idol interviewers in Korea, absolutely poised and natural even in front of the crowd that cheers over the interview.

The woman behind the podium clears her throat. “A huge talking point in Korea right now is your chemistry with your costar, Y/N. How exactly do you pull that off, since you’ve never experienced a relation like that?”

Chaeyoung laughs nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Oh. Well, um, I don’t have much experience with relationships at all, so--”

“Really? A pretty girl like you must have had a boyfriend or two before.” You despise the way that the interviewer leans in conspiratorially, as if the prying questions weren’t completely scripted. “But you seem a little to pretty to have experienced that, am I right?”

The crowd laughs with her, but Chaeyoung glances behind the scenes, probably to where her own staff sits. “You know, you can tell me if you ever felt… uncomfortable during filming,” the interviewer continues on. “Y/N has been out for years, hasn’t she?”

“Oh, she has…” You’re practically fuming, but you also can’t seem to pry your eyes away from the screen. All of Chaeyoung’s practiced idol-charm has seemed to dissipate into thin air, and she’s practically blending into the wall as she sits there.

The Chaeyoung you know-- no, the Chaeyoung that you’ve come to know, wouldn’t stand to hear something like that. You’ve watched her argue with a scriptwriter, and you’ve watched him get fired because he said something incredibly offensive, even though it wasn’t about you. But here, she sits still and just listens to the interviewer discuss you behind your back, and she says nothing about all the disgustingly backhanded comments.

The thing is, you don’t care about Chaeyoung not being out. You were closeted for enough time yourself, and you know how hard it is, so you’d never wish it on her; but watching her completely let go of all her personal principles just for a stupid interview is just another reminder that you’re letting go of your own. Chaeyoung won’t ever speak up, you realize, because her career comes before anything else. And you can’t stand for that.

“I’m leaving,” you tell the guard standing outside of your door. Only increasing your anger, tears start to burn in your eyes, and you scrape your sleeve across your face as roughly as you can. Chan picks up on one dial, and you say furiously, “Pick me up. It’s over.” In more ways than one.

Chaeyoung shivers at the top of the hill, where she’s supposed to be filming her closing scene with you. She hasn’t seen you for the past week, and after how disastrous her interview was, she’s pretty sure she knows why.

“Where’s Y/N?” she finally asks her makeup artist, giving in to her own curiosity.

Felix shrugs, reaching to mess with the blood on her hairline. “I have no idea, honestly, I haven’t seen her yet. She’s never late, though, you don’t have to worry. You’ll get your scene done.”

“That’s…” Chaeyoung sighs. That’s why she should be worried. “Right.”

“Okay, can we start?” Seulgi shouts. It’s started to rain, but with the excited look on the director’s face, Chaeyoung figures that it suits the scene even better than the gray clouds that had been planned. “Great. Chaeyoung, Y/N!”

Your hair is plastered to your forehead with the rain, and water makes your blouse cling to your curves; with the grim expression on your face, Chaeyoung could easily just mistake you for your character. “Hi,” you mutter, taking a seat on the grass right next to your costar. You say nothing else.

When cued, Chaeyoung takes a deep breath before her line. “Luna. I love you.”

For a second, Chaeyoung thinks you won’t respond, but the rasp to your voice proves her wrong. “No. No, you don’t.”

“I think I’m the one who should be deciding that, don’t you?” The blonde raises her eyebrows, reaching forward hesitantly for your shoulder.

Of course, you dodge it. Blinking the rain out of your eyes, you’re resigned when you ask, “You have your birthday gala tonight, don’t you?”

“Yes, but--” Chaeyoung swallows, lets her hand make contact, then continues, “I’m spending as much time as I can with you, aren’t I with you right now?”

“But you’re going.” It feels like you’re staring right into Chaeyoung’s soul when you speak, as despondent as your voice is. She nods, and you stand, her hand slipping off of your shoulder and into her lap. “Then go. You’re still a princess at the end of the day, aren’t you?”

“At the end of the day, yes…”

“You can’t do that. You sneak out onto my ships, get my people to love you and protect you, and then turn right back to your family to stay safe while we die for you. You can’t say you support our cause and then go back on it when it’s inconvenient for you, it doesn’t work like that!” Chaeyoung flinches at how intense you sound; at this point, she barely knows if it’s still acting. She can only hear her own heart in her ears, can only see your chest heaving from how quickly you spoke, and it all feels too real.

“What, do you want me to get found out?” Chaeyoung demands, getting to her feet as well. The rain becomes harsher, angled so that it perfectly blurs her vision of you. “I’ve saved your ass just as many times too, don’t pretend like I’m not a valuable part of your ship!”

“You’re still pretending.” Realizing that it’s not the right line, Chaeyoung opens her mouth to stop you, but your voice chills her into silence when you speak again. “You’ll always pretend, as long as it benefits you, won’t you? You can’t do that, Helen, not if you ‘love me’. Putting a crown on your head doesn’t mean that you’re a princess. Until you realize that, and until you’re willing to embrace it, you don’t love me. and I don’t love you.”

None of it is the script. None of it is the scene that you rehearsed a thousand times together in your trailer, but somehow, it makes Chaeyoung’s heart quaver in her throat so much more than the original lines ever did.

And when you drop your gaze to the ground, turning to walk off into the rain alone, she knows that to you, your entire relationship is already done.

[tobiosmilktea]

ahh omg requests are opened !! can i request atsumu, iwa, kenma, and tsukki angst to fluff kinda thing where they get into a big fight and the boys blow up on the reader but make up at the end? pls make me cry but also go “💘🥺”,, thank you so much !!!

- 🧋

kiss and make up with atsumu, iwaizumi, kenma, and tsukishima

— m. atsumu

being with atsumu,, it’s no surprise that you two occasionally get into a few arguments here and there

they honestly range from the tiniest little, insignificant things from what to get for dinner to whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza aka things most people probably wouldn’t even bat an eye at

you were used to it considering how atsumu is, but his personality is what you liked most about him with how he’s constantly having you on your feet —never knowing what he’ll do next

they’re quiet funny at the end of the day and that back and forth banter is just another way you two show how much you care about each other

with that being said, no matter what you two are arguing about, it’s always lighthearted and not so serious

that’s why it honestly took you by surprise how atsumu’s typically nonchalant and teasing nature whenever you guys “argue” over something was something you’ve never seen before

very rarely did you ever see this man get incredibly angry and you’ve even seen all of his games where things weren’t going right

and perhaps that’s where the root of this argument started in the first place

dating a famous division 1 volleyball player who is well loved and respected, it’s hard being able to spend the proper time with him when he’s constantly travelling or getting recognized whenever you two are out on a date

you weren’t exactly complaining about this problem to atsumu after he came back from a tiresome and strenuous day of practice as you knew that it was going to be like this when you two first met

if anything, it was just a concern you voiced out that you obviously weren’t expecting him to solve with a snap of his fingers

“and what the fuck do you want me to do about it, (y/n)?” he snapped at you, venom coated his words like tar

you looked at him with widened eyes as a mixture of confusion and utter offense melted upon your expression

atsumu was notorious for using foul language on a daily basis, but never had he ever swore at you and it’s safe to say you like to keep that same energy with him

you scoffed at him, still a bit dumbfounded, “i’m not expecting you to fix anything over night, i was just saying.”

“as if i already didn’t know how hard it is to find time to spend together.”

“so, are you just treating me like an idiot now?”

it was late, you were tired just as much as atsumu was and you certainly weren’t in the mood to argue with him anymore

before you could even let him answer, you walked away from him and entered your bedroom withy a slammed door

you hated going to bed angry, but there honestly wasn’t anymore moral within you to even continue whatever leftover conversation between you and atsumu

perhaps giving time for something this to simmer until the morning would be enough to make sure your fatigue wasn’t blurring your thoughts knowing how dangerous misunderstandings can be

a few minutes later, atsumu enters the room, eyes scanning over your figure beneath the sheets as your breathing subsided

he thought you were fast asleep, but your mind was still awake and racing with the worse case scenarios. it made it so much more difficult now that atsumu laid beside you

he would wrap his arms around you, “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have yelled at you.” whispering in a hushed, muffled voice. you could feel the way his lips pecked at you shoulder then up to your temple

you weren’t sure if he knew you were awake or not as you swore he could’ve heard your heart pounding

without uttering another word, you turn towards him, burying your head into the crook of his neck

you were just glad his warmth was still here

— i. hajime

you believe one of your biggest flexes within your relationship with iwa is that you two rarely argue or get into childish fights

sure, there were disagreements here and there, but most of them were minuscule decisions on what outfit to where that day or what restaurant you two wanted to eat at. most of which would be decided with a harmless game of rock, paper, scissors or nose goes lmao

other than constantly bickering with oikawa, iwaizumi isn’t really the type to get into shouting contests with you unlike with his best friend (most of which is started by oikawa anyway)

because of this, you weren’t really expecting to get into a fight with your boyfriend, and yet, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to him doing so

at the end of the day, you always ended up being the moderator of iwaizumi and oikawa’s loud back and forth banter if things got too rowdy

so never in a million years were you expecting oikawa to be taking your place at this very moment

poor dude doesn’t know what to do

he’s used to third wheeling you and iwa being all lovey dovey, but now that you two were in the midst of a midafternoon shouting contest, he’s completely dumbfounded

oikawa couldn’t help but feel bad for you as technically the whole reason why you and iwaizumi were arguing in the first place was because of him

long story short, iwa was sick and tired of oikawa flirting with you all the time despite only doing it to tease him

you were well aware of this as well, playing along with oikawa’s flirts just to tease your boyfriend

you didn’t see any harm in it as you made it very clear the moment you confessed to iwaizumi that you liked him and not his best friend (who you more or less saw as a brother over anything)

“listen, i’m sorry i was only playing around.” you apologize, throat already aching from the amount of stress you had already put on it

“if you were only playing around, then you wouldn’t be flirting with him everyday!” spat iwaizumi as he flickering a harsh look to oikawa who backed a good six feet away from you two (social distancing king lmao)

you honestly didn’t know what to say as a lump formed in your throat, rendering you speechless. granted, he had a point, but how couldn’t he overlook the way you only had eyes for him? the way you would “flirt” with oikawa they always tended to be backhanded, the way you would always kiss iwa after each of oikawa’s attempts to flirt, or how you would constantly remind him how much you loved him

it hurt slightly knowing how it was all overlooked by harmless teases

regardless,, it had to stop

before you could  apologize once more and say you’ll stop, iwaizumi huffs, “just say that you wanted him the entire time and not me.” before walking away entirely

your eyes widened, turning over towards a distanced oikawa who had the same look of surprise before motioning a hand towards your boyfriend, “well, go after him!”

with missing a beat, you ran down the block to catch up to iwaizumi, spreading your arms and throwing it around him as you bury your face into his back

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that.” your voice muffled into his uniform shirt, “i only like you, iwa, you have to believe me.”

your hands that were firmly clasped together to prevent him from breaking out of your embrace was slowly pulled apart by iwaizumi, feeling his entire body turn to face towards you

“idiot,” he muses with that same embrace

— k. kenma

i don’t think argument are common between you and kenma

he’s probably too preoccupied with playing video games or sleeping to even bother starting a fight over mindless disagreements

you were glad that you didn’t have to deal with such burdens of fighting with your significant other, but at the same time, you believed that small disagreements in relationships showed just how much you cared for the other

it showed how they were looking out for you if you were to ever make a terrible decision, and yet kenma would only bat an eye at you and shrug whenever you ask him for advice

in the end, you’d end up fucking something up or get hurt

or whenever you’d ask your boyfriend what he thinks about a specific outfit, he barely spare your a glance before uttering the words, “yeah, looks great babe.”

it sounded almost crazy to say, but sometimes you wished for you and kenma to get into arguments sometimes

not ones so serious it would lead to a significant gap within your relationship, but rather the ones the led for you guys to communicate more

besides, it’s not like you guys communicate a lot in the first place

you first brought up this concern when you came over to his apartment to which he was (surprise surprise) still playing video games

you didn’t mind about his hobbies as that’s what he liked most, but sometimes you just wished he would give you the proper attention for once

“hey,” you’d call out to him in the dark room, shaking a plastic bag in your hand in the hopes it would capture his attention, “i bought takoyaki!”

and to your low expectations, kenma simply hums as he clicks rapidly at his keyboard

your brows furrow as you pondered to yourself, what will get his attention?

“i also brought my boyfriend with me!” you lied just to see if his expression would even change

and what do ya know, it doesn’t. it’s the same focused deadpan on his computer screen, “no you didn’t, your boyfriends right here?”

you were at the end of your rope

“then why doesn’t my boyfriend come over here and act like it?” you hissed, “last time i checked, boyfriends get excited whenever they see their significant other and not over genshin characters.”

now that was a bite to kenma’s ego as he finally pulled his eyes away from the screen and towards you. “what?” he says, confused.

“do you even like me anymore?”

kenma scoffs almost dumbfounded, “of course i do, how could you say that?”

“because i experience it everyday, kenma.” you confess, fighting to keep your heavy gaze onto your boyfriend as he approaches you. “every time i come by i always see you at your desk in front of your computer. you never greet me first and unless i verbally say something, you probably won’t even notice that i’m here.” you voice broke slightly

“i-i’m sorry, (y/n)—”

“do you ever stop and think of the fact that the only times we see each other if from me visiting you? if i were just to stop one day i’d figure we wouldn’t even have a relationship in the first place.” you sigh as you shook your head, “you probably wouldn’t even notice, anyway.”

almost immediately does kenma wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace, almost as if he feared that you would disappear if he were to let go in the slightest

he places a kiss on your forehead before resting his own against yours, “i don’t ever want to hear those words come from you every again, (y/n). i’m so so sorry, i’ll promise to be better.”

you melted within his embrace, feigning a smile from appearing as you quickly give him a peck before remembering that the bag of food you bought was still in your hand

“let’s start by eating before the food gets cold.”

— t. kei

unlike the rest of the previously mentioned boys, arguments are pretty common between you and tsukishima considering his nature

he’s constantly teasing and making fun of you, but all of which were just jokes not meant to be taken seriously and you were well aware of this too

it’s probably the main reason why tsuki found himself so enamored with you as you constantly matched his energy 

you two were shockingly similar with your humor and your smugness, but the main differences between the two of you was you academics

it’s not surprise how tsukishima is always at the top of his class while you’re always at the bottom of it

considering this, the majority of your dates during the week with him are usually study dates or normal dates that end with the two of  you either at the library or each other’s houses studying material for the following day’s test

it was clear that in order to date each other, you both had to have patience

you weren’t exactly the fastest learner and you easily got distracted with things around you that you’re honestly surprised that tsukishima’s nonexistent patience was still up and active

besides, he loved you. he had to understand your difficulties as most of the time you can’t help it, but at the same time his personality was like treading on broken glass

usually he had enough patience to last an entire two hour study session with you, but today was oddly different

nothing was going right with tsukishima’s day and he just got absolutely annoyed with every little thing from a person bumping into him in the halls to a stain on his uniform that you could barely even notice

right now, this was the tenth time he found you tuning him out and daydreaming

his knuckled turned alabaster from the pressure of squeezing his mechanical pencil. he huffed, trying to calm himself down as he rubbed his aching temples

��(y/n), were you even listening to what i was—”

“do you think giraffes know where other giraffes are from?” you interrupted him with another one of your mindless tangents, “like considering how the pattern of a giraffe’s fur depends on what regent they’re from, do you think a giraffe from southern africa could tell if another if from western africa—”

tsukishima was at his limit, “can’t you just shut the fuck up and focus for five minutes, (y/n)?” he shouts at you, “i swear, you wouldn’t be failing if you just listened for once.”

he huffs out in annoyance, completely ignoring the way the brightness in your expression fell into a frown

you weren’t mad as you honestly couldn’t blame him. having learning difficulties and a short attention span was burdening you boyfriend so much that he isn’t even obligated to be doing this for you

he was sacrificing his time tutoring you and you’re just wasting it

“i’m sorry i can’t learn as easily as you,” you mutter softly, picking up your things quickly

tsukishima gives you a look of confusion, “w-where are you going?”

“thanks for all your help, but i can’t keep wasting your time like this.” you say as you zipped up your backpack and left

the next day you walked to school alone. usually you would be walking with tsukishima and yamaguchi, but it seemed like even tadashi wasn’t there to wait outside your house either

you weren’t able to hide your melancholy as you entered your classroom, slightly glad that tsukishima and yamaguchi weren’t here yet to see your expression

it allowed you time to pull yourself together, and yet, that time alone was cut short as the two walked in

you briefly flicker them a look fast enough that they don’t notice, but long enough for you to see yamaguchi patting his best friend on the back with encouragement

tsukishima had something in his hands, but you were too far away to construe them

you looked back down to your desk, fiddling with you pencil and pretending as if you were thinking about what to write next

it was then did footsteps approach, arriving right next to you with a presence so unwavering

you gulped, hoping that it wasn’t who you thought it was as you looked it

of course it just had to be that one lanky boy with glasses and messy blond hair to be standing by your side

he was holding a stuffed giraffe and a small white box with string neatly tied around it

“i’m sorry for blowing up on you,” he bursts out his apology, “i know you have a hard time and i should’ve remembered that you can’t help it.”

he places the giraffe plushy and box onto your desk

“it’s an masai giraffe since i remembered you liking their unique fur pattern and i also got you strawberry short cake this morning before they ran out that’s why i wasn’t there to walk you to school.” tsukishima continues explaining, “i just hope you’re not angry with me.”

you felt a smile creeping up to your lips as you shook your head, “i could never.”

[lillian-nator]

Everything below was made by Me, Eye, and Ethan over the course of like 3 days

Thank you (with additions from sleepy my beloved)

Like

Okay

So

Wilbur isn’t the oldest

Techno is

But it’s a war run empire, they take pride in their troops and armies and triumphs

The soldiers come first

So Techno is the commander in chief , the general

Wilbur, second born

Is heir to the throne

To the diplomatic side of the empire

and Tommy Gets shit

He doesn’t even understand why Phil had another kid

Of course there is the situation where Techno or Wilbur dies, or one of them steps down, but it won’t happen

Was he really born to be the understudy

he was born as a backup

Tommy was an accident but they’re not gonna let the public know that

like he's the Zuko

Phil doesn't really pay attention to him so his mother picks up the slack

Wilbur is 21

Techno’s 23

Tommy’s 17

However I have a really good idea for prince Tommy, just like what if he doesn’t like the way that people treat him? Like he doesn’t want all these yes men he wants to be he wants to be told now, he want somebody to tell him he that’s against the rules he just wants him like structure he just want someone to hate him he want someone to not like him and say no and tell him that he’s stupid which is why he does all of the stupid shit that he does

Ever since he was like 4

Everyone has said yes

He wants to defy them

He wants to just do something to make someone say no

That and he lowkey

He wants ~~Phil~~ Wilbur to pay attention to him

Is a Little Shit who causes so many problems on purpose to try and find someone who will push back against him

He wants someone to give him structure and discipline but overall he just wants his family’s attention

He’s broken shit, thrown temper tantrums, he’s started fights and he’ll he’s even snuck out and stole things

He’s never been stopped

People consider him snobby and spoiled

He's a brat

He gets everything he wants, but he doesn’t really want it, he just asks to see if they’ll tell him no

Tubbo = Stable Boy

Ranboo = Prince of another country (probably the americas)

Ranboo could definitely fit the role of an overseas royal prince who Tommy sees as a regal, spoiled, uppity little shit. Like Tubbo, who Tommy sneaks everywhere, has met Ranboo and likes him. Tommy can't possibly see why, he's unbearable.

Bench Trio = Best freinds

I think that Tommy and his brothers were always very very close

they just have jobs and shit

They took over Phil's shit

they probably drift apart as they get older, Wilbur and techno have duties and Tommy starts his quest for attention, they grow apart from their little brother without realizing it

Tommy and his mother (kristin) are always and have continued to be close

she definitely chides him, and tells him quietly to not do things for all of his "misbehaviors"

but there is only so much that she can do, because she has the duty to not make a scene

that and she's not who he's looking for attention from

You may be asking "How is crime recognized, identified, discussed, and atoned for?" more specifically, "Is it a 'you stole my bread so without asking anyone I'm cutting your hand off' or is it the US court system" ~~You may also be Ethan~~

The answer is:

like the UKs

But more like

Okay so the Supreme Judicial system, but Phil (and then Wilbur) has teh final say

Court system, but with Phil overseeing everything

instead of a judge

HOWEVER, that's in the national level

in smaller villages, its more of the cut your hand off system

because the judicial system isn't regulated

So bonus questions:

Punishments and the identification of whether a crime counts as a crime?

soldiers can call crimes out, and citizens can file reports

Phil's not really shit, he just doesn't show Tommy any attention because he's busy with the other two

Just honestly doesn't even care about most shit Tommy does

Like, doesn't pay attention to it until it affects him, he's busy running a country and training the boys to running a country

I don’t think they (the brothers) realize how badly everything is affecting Tommy

The only one who knows anything about the full extent would be his mom, and she’s in a similar boat to Tommy

Phil doenst really see her much either

Not like she could “Make a Scene” trying to get Phil to pay attention to his youngest, to actually love his child, he’s barely around

Kristin and Phil spend time together at night, but during the day everything is for the cameras

its like the UK royals, how they do shit just for the people

And Phil doenst want to hear about the kids at night, he wants to spend time with his wife

Tommy has stolen a car and will do it again

Just fucking hopped in and took a joyride

With Absolutely No Repercussions

Do you think Phil ever tries to hire like, a nanny or something? In the aftermath of the Car Incident? Yes, and it never worked

Tommy, like 15 at the time, pissed as hell as a random ass woman tries to tell him to go to bed at 8:30 pm

Tommy wants somebody to tell him no but not somebody hired to tell him no mannn

Tommy goes to like parties - like ragers

he has a network of really famous friends like young actors and shit

dude is a party animal, underage drinking, rumors of drugs, he’s the PR Teams worst nightmare, but they’re not going to say anything

The press makes up SO MUCH SHIT

The press once said that he had done cocaine when it was really one of his friends

Tommy adopts two dogs (hello Betty and Walter) without asking either of his parents

Betty is short for Elizabeth

He brings them in off the street

Literal abandoned street dogs and he goes, mine now

He like, walks down the street with sunglasses on, and just doesn't look at anyone as he walks the dogs, who have like black nice leather leashes

The paparazzi always finds him walking the dogs

like a modern celebrity

Mans can and will call the paparazzi on himself - because he is a drama queen ETHAN Tommy voice "hello pa pa. I have hired two new staff, pa pa." "Huh?" "they have found work in this palace as emotional support animals, pa pa." "....ok." tommy voice "he didn't even blink, elizabeth the fourteenth" END OF ETHAN MAKING FUN OF THE BRITISH

By the way just to clear things up with you all, Tommy addresses Phil as "Father"

most of the paparazzi's pictures of Tommy are him flipping the camera off

He poses for them

just sees a camera and fucking sticks his tongue out and flips them off

He’s wearing some atrocious outfit while walking his dogs and he just has a full on fashion photshoot of poses for them

If his dad won’t give him attention at least they will

Tommy befriends some of the staff

he hates a lot of the butlers tbh

thinks they're stuck up

but likes to gossip with the maids, and sit in the kitchen as the chefs cook lunch "Heyyyy, chef!" "Your highness, what is it, are you hungry?" "Can't a man just talk to his chef? Befriend his castle staff?" "Ah."

that and the kitchen gives betty and walter treats

Top ten Prince Thomas microaggressions

Number One: he calls Phil "your highness"

For context, kings are referred to as Your Majesty

He calls Wilbur Your Majesty

It was a joke when they were younger, a habit from then on, but now it’s to spite Phil

Tommy spends an ridiculous amount of money on clothes all at once, purely to see if Phil would yell at him for using the family debit card for it

He never wears the clothes

He doesn’t particularly like any of them anyways

Instead he donate them all anonymously

Tommy may be a brat but he isn’t wasteful

By the time Tommy’s 12 he’s started acting up, and it escalates slowly until he hits 15 where things just start snowballing and he gets worse and worse

he's definitely nicknamed by the press as some sort of party animal or fratboy

a spoiled brat

He’s 16, and he knows his place in the family, he is forgotten and glossed over, but he won’t be ignored, not if he can help it

The Public gives him the attention he wishes his father would give him, he walks his dogs with the paparazzi tailing after him, just hoping that maybe one scandal or one horrible picture will eventually be enough to make his dad actually See him

he'll tell the paparazzi what they want to hear

and give every magazine a story to tell

they notice him

he just wants somebody to tell him no, somebody tell this boy no without being paid to please

Tommy probably has like, pierced his ears or smth. Gotten tattoos.

he has holes in his face yes.

he pierced his ears and his nose

He has a tattoo on the inside of his finger that matches with Tubbo and Ranboo

Maybe the picture of him plastered from last weekend will make his dad reprimand him

Maybe the weed found in his backseat will get his Dad to ground him

Maybe the bottle of fucking pills he was “holding for a friend” but got caught with Will get some sort of reaction

and its not like he's only doing it for attention

he starts it for attention, but he loves it he does

he has fun, he loves his friends, he likes the parties and the air

but, he also loves the attention, he's not gonna lie

Tommy who took adderall at a party once but it didn’t do anything for him, he seemed to function a little better actually

Tommy who knows Techno has adhd and takes adderall for it, Tommy who puts two and two together Bc he’s not fucking dumb

Tommy realizing his dad never cared to even get him diagnosed or treated

and Techno does notice, he does figure it out, but he does either a "hey..." or a "m8 I'll just get you your own if its helpin you focus" and tommy is furious

Tommy's life here is just

'trying to be yelled at HARD MODE'

Just wants to be screamed at, lowkey

I think, Wilbur avoids the tabloids

And the press

And the news

However, his advisors often read him the shit about Tommy - or anything about him

But they never see the pictures

They don’t see the picture of Tommy drunk on a strangers balcony

They don't see how bad it is

Tommy however? LOVES reading what the press has to say about him

Phil sees it however,

And he’s so disappointed

He gives Tommy so many talks but it never works

Because it doesn’t get him to love Tommy, to care about what Tommy does

Not like their mother

And he never makes a scene, not in the way Tommy wants to

It's all about "YOUR RUINING OUR IMAGE"

not: "YOUR RUINING YOUR LIFE"

He never asks if Tommy is ok

He never asks if he’s safe

Tommy's mum however, SO MANY AWKWARD "STAY SAFE" TALKS

He doesn't just fucking jump off shit because of her, he's slightly less reckless so that he can come home alive to her

I just think that Wilbur, no matter how busy, would find time to concerned yell at his baby brother if he were to find out about the pills

Weed and alcohol? Not great but ok.

Pills though?? He is full blown concerned Wilbro there

His brothers care. Their father is busy. He's a jerk sometimes too.

Wilbur does put out the fire a bit

He’s glad Wilbur had his best interest in mind

But man

The news headlines

They do him dirty

Shit like “Prince Tommy Caught Doing Cocaine at Frat Party” really fuck him over

They really just try their best to make him look like shit 95% of the time

Tommy loves it, just a little

Bad press is still press

He laughs at the headline Bc he knows he wasn’t doing cocaine, but Phil doesn’t, wilbur and techno don’t know that

It’s a tense week after that headline is released

His mom doesn’t even know if Tommy would have actually done cocaine

They just don’t know

Kristin asks him

She’s the only one who believes him

I think Wilbur wants to believe him, Techno too

But it’s hard to, especially when you’re not even sure you know your own brother anymore

Wilbur says something along the lines of being disappointed in Tommy, if he thought Tommy was trying to be better

Tommy scoffs and says he is trying, but that it’s real rich of Wilbur to be or entering to care now

This isn’t even the worse headline

One time a blonde kid got picked up from the same party Tommy was at on a stretcher, he had had an allergic reaction

Some shitty journalist saw and automatically assumed it was Tommy

They ran with the story that the prince had fucking overdosed for at least a week

The things they say are close to the truth but not quite

The PR Team tries their best to help but

They don’t even know what’s true or not

Tommy goes on a bender for a week, and walks into their office with coffee and pastries to apologize

They all know that presents mean a rough week of damage control

But Tommy imports them these Bomb ass donuts so

Fair trade really

Also heaven forbid tommy gets seen with a girl

It’s the worst shit

Tommy gets caught, drunk off his ass, pushing a couch out a window

(To be fair the people were moving soon anyways, they didn’t need the couch, it was a going away party)

And the next morning, recalling what he did

He orders up those pastries and calls the coffee place

Swings by to pick up the coffee and picks up the pastries all within the next two hours and delivers them on the third with an apology note

It’s fucking DAMAGE control

Thinking about Tubbo and Ranboo being Tommy’s DDs when they can

They are

When Tommy’s handler isn’t around

Them doing wild shit together but not Wild Shit

Tommy teaches them how to do burnouts and donuts in a fucking lambos in an empty mall parking lot

Ranboo goes everywhere incognito, Tommy practically flaunts his rank, Tubbo is considered a nobody and doesn't have to do anything but show up in casual clothes. He has a uniform for stablework.

Ranboo's parents are approving of his friendship with the fledging prince, as they hope he can wrangle Tommy to regality and he's building positive relations between the two kingdoms.

Phil is disapproving, worried Tommy will taint Ranboo and his rep and cause a tense air between the two kingdoms. Tommy loves Phil's worry, he practically bathes in it, it's the attention he so craves.

Tommy definitely will hold Tubbo's hand when he walks with him, because the headlines all scream Tommy is the gay?? and while he's very incredibly straight, he finds this hysterical.

Ranboo isn't always in Tommy's kingdom and rather spends most of his time at home. He might be second to heir or the crown prince himself, but he does have to spend time in his own country. Tommy face calls him a lot and he and Tubbo are ecstatic when he announces he's going to visit

I imagine he's second to the throne because that means he can focus on building relations instead of training to be king.

Older sibling Fundy, gets chronic illness, and Ranboo has to take over the throne for a bit

One of Tommy's worst stunts was hitching a ride to the Americas/Ranboo's kingdom without telling anyone.

Whether by boat or plane, he was gonna go visit his young king friend no matter what.

I say "young king" but he's still a prince. Just filling in for fundy

But all eyes turn to Ranboo and Ranboo is stumbling with attention he'd never known. Tommy has to help, doesn't he?

He expects such a punishment for stowing away to visit, but the headlines are... positive. Prince Tommy's friendship with Princr Ranboo becomes.... legendary, practically. Tubbo is always excluded from the news, even when he comes with.

Never too fantastical for classism

But no, the headlines see Tommy's visit not as the young, rebellious prince stowing away, but as a young boy risking his skin to visit his stressed friend.

Tommy is appalled.

And Tommy just groans and shows him the phone

And Ranboo laughs and goes

“There there Tommy, I’m sure dragging me to a frat party will be enough to ruin the good press.”

“Maybe get a dui, you’ll have diplomatic immunity so no jail time?”

“Boo, I wouldn’t get jail time even if I wasn’t em-mune, I am simply too poggers.”

“Sure man, let’s go with that.”

Tommy’s like “maybe I need to actually start doing hard drugs”

Ranboos just like “no -“ just “Please god no, your brothers will kill both of us.”

The Boo is terrified of Techno and Wilbur

Not as royals though, simply as Tommy’s older brothers

Like he knows about Tommy’s issues with validation and feeling unloved, he knows his Brothers are often very busy

But he also sees the way they look at Tommy, and the way they look when people talk bad about Tommy

He knows if something were to happen and he was to cause harm to Tommy or cause Tommy to cause harm to himself

It probably wouldn’t end well for him

Wilbur and techno try as hard as they can

But they’re SO busy

That they can’t do much especially when Tommy’s so persistent on doing his shit

Tubbo is great with the horses he tends to, and Tommy adores them. Ranboo is an excellent, regal rider and Tommy and Tubbo are more rough and ballsy, so races are fair and fastpaced.

Ranboo once got bucked by a royal stallion and Tommy and Tubbo never let him live it down.

I imagine Tubbo lives on the property, as some servants do. He either doesn't have a family, has a bad one, or his family doesn't live close to the palace.

So Tommy 10/10 sneaks to the servants' quarters and he and Tubbo sneak out to ride the horses.

I feel like Wilbur makes more of an effort after the pills and cocaine incident, he tries to ask Tommy about the headlines

Purples is Tommy’s friend

Rich family, old money

Throws a lot of the parties Tommy goes to

Purpled and punz :handshake: Tommy

Frat Boys

I think you guys are underestimating the time that Tommy spends at the castle

Like he still has school, and usually 3 days out of the week he follows around his brothers like an endearing little shit

But those 4 days where he’s gone (which includes weekends) plus nights, he’s doing shit

Also, yiu know Pongo right

101 Dalmatians

That’s how Tommy walks Betty and Walter

They are like standing completely proper and walks straight

ah yes, the royal bitches and also betty and walter are there too

the paparazzi taking pictures of Tommy and the dogs

and Tommy turns, taking his sunglasses off, and smiles big and wide "They have names you know? You should stop callin' them 'the royal dogs'."

One of the guys, he's familiar with the prince turns on his camera and asks "what're their names Prince Tommy?"

"Betty and Walter. Give them some respect."

Tommy visits Ranboo sometimes. Ranboo was looking for him one day and just found him standing in a long hall, staring at a portrait.

It's Ranboo, just barely younger, hands folded behind his back, the perfect picture of regality.

Tommy is staring at it because he knows that at home, there is a portrait of Wilbur looking like that, and one of Techno, and one of Phil and Kristen, and one of himself.

But somehow this image of Ranboo is.. haunting

Not because it doesn't match with the Ranboo he knows, but because it does.

It haunts him because he can stare at his portrait for hours and never see himself, but this is so plainly Ranboo that it's chilling.

Ranboo stands beside him, hands folded behind his back as they always are when he is in nice clothes and his eyes are visible. Tommy glances over and Ranboo is facing him, but staring up at the picture. It's still him.

The clothes are different and his hair is longer now, but Tommy can't tell the difference past that.

He knows that Ranboo is what his family wants him to be

He knows that Ranboo is him if he hadn't strayed, the same past

Ranboo knows exactly what’s going through his head right now

And he knows exactly what he needs too

They get fucking piss ass drunk in Ranboo’s room order takeout and FaceTime Tubbo

They can party tomorrow, Tommy doesn’t need to be in public right now

ANywyas

Tommy and his mother have a wonderful relationship

she teaches him literacy and history, they have a tutor teach him maths

they eat breakfast together every morning

the whole family does

but his mum tries to eat lunch with him at least 3 times a week

he goes out for lunch the days he doesn't eat with his brothers or mom, out to some resturant, sometimes, they trash it or party, sometimes he just brings Tubbo, no big group, and they just chill

With Ranboo in line for kingship (the way royalty works is that if the ruler dies, it will always go to the next in line of blood, never by marriage. Even if every heir was dead, it would still not go to the ruler consort but instead to a family member of the late ruler), rep is so much more important

he can't really be seen with Tommy sometimes

not on the bad weeks

not when Tommy just destroyed a bnb or set off fireworks with his friends, or was caught throwing chairs into his friend's pool

Tommy likes sport cars

big car guys

He has an exorbitant amount of fancy cars

its truly like

disgusting

how many cars he owns

Wilbur makes fun of it Bc the kid is just now legally old to drive

But Wilbur has so many expensive instruments

Some of which he doesn’t even know how to play yet

to be fair

Wilbur doesnt go breaking his instraments

Techno, techno has swords, which makes sense Bc he’s a general

But the amount swords he has just hanging on his wall

Never meant to be used

It’s so many

I feel like Tommy has a few cars that he doesn’t even let get scratched tho much

His babies

he has his expensive cars that he wrecks

and then his expensive cars that he treats like gold

They’re named

Clementine is this horrendous orange car that he absolutely loves

Its a bright orange ferrari

(He loves it Bc it was a gift from Phil, one of the first cars in his collection)

(Tommy doesn’t know that the idea was his mother’s, his father didn’t know what to get him)

all of his cars have padding in the back for his dogs

Tommy hates purse dogs, the girls with them are always fake and horrible

but he wishes his dogs were that small

Easy to transport

but they got all gangly limbs like him

and stand up to his hip

Henry is his sleek black classic mustang convertable

its what he drives when he doesn't want to be followed by the papp

It’s what he drives when he takes The BT to lunch

its not that the paparazzi doesn't know its him

they know

but he's not in one of his bright fucking obscene cars

The press and Tommy have a weird sort of understanding

He creates their headlines and they let him have moments to himself

If someone breaches that

They risk getting blacklisted

that car was what he drove to his grandmother's funeral in

im not naming his grandmother, but all royals live like forever

Clementine barely sees the road I think

She’s kept in top condition

By Tommy’s own hands

But she probably doesn’t get driven to the parties

Or the brunches

Or the clubs

She's used pretty much exclusively for black tie events

Tubbo is his driver for those Bc he trusts no one else with the car

And he has to exit her before she’s parked

So Tubbo valets and then meets him inside

It’s also how Tubbo gets into the black tie events

so its modern right

so its like thousand-dollar suits instead of capes

so, Tommy just refuses to wear blazers and suit jackets

he always wears his button-ups rolled to his elbows

Maybe, maybe you’ll get him in a vest

But most of the time it’s a button up, rolled up sleeves, and the tie is most likely incorrect or untied

The only reason it’s correct half the time, is because Wilbur makes him let him tie it

Tommy won't wear the jacket because he prefers to roll his sleeves up - he's able to do anything, party or just like rough housing with his brothers, or helping out the staff

Wilbur won't wear a tie, or a button up most days, opting for a high-end sweater and loads of jewelry; its just much more his style.

Techno won't wear a vest because it restricts the places he can hid weapons, and he almost never keeps his tie tied.

Tommy trying to walk past Wilbur to leave with and untied tie

“Wait! You know you can’t leave like that, come here.”

Tommy’s groans and slumps over but walks over to Wil anyways

“I’m just gonna untie it halfway through the party, you know i will.”

“Well, I’m not letting my little brother walk a red carpet with an untied tie, you know I won’t”

The second half said in a mocking tone of voice, very clearly mimicking Tommy’s whining

It’s a soft moment, they stand there together, brothers

And as Wilbur’s pat the finished tie, they make eye contact and both of them have undeniably fond looks on their faces, damn they’re brothers n shit

“Thanks Wil.”

It’s quiet, it’s soft, it’s Tommy

“Of course.”

Just as soft, just as quiet, wholly Wilbur

Wilbur clears his throat breaking the soft atmosphere of the room

“Now go, you gremlin. Don’t be late”

Wilbur ruffles Tommy’s hair, careful not to mess it up too much

Tommy rolls his eyes And quickly heads for the door “Bye Wil! Love you! Don’t wait up!” Wilbur quickly yells after him

“Love you too! Don’t do anything stupid!”

“Oh Wil you know I can’t promise that!” Wilbur just rolls his eyes and returns to his book

Yeah Tommy stays away from tobacco I think

Just weed

and I wouldn't be surprised if like hits peoples vapes sometimes, but doesn't smoke cigs

for sure, its stressful

Wilbur smokes cigarettes though

and he can't act out like Tommy can

and Phil loves him..

Techno and Wilbur watching Tommy rebel in the ways they never got to

They feel kinda sad, that they never got to be kids like that, sad that Tommy feels like he has to act out for attention

he gets to do shit

like he gets to be a real teen

the whole, dumb rich 17 year old experience

like yachts, and expensive hotel rooms, and sport cars

And sure they probably wouldn’t have been going to frat parties or crashing brunch places, but they see him with BT

See him have actual friends

And they’re happy for him

But it hurts a bit

And Tommy's hurting too

It's a lot

but its like

even if Phil wasn't shit

its a lot of attention

like everyone is watching them at all times

Techno and Wilbur have to stay refined in the eyes of the press

Tommy gets to put on a show for them

Yeah yeah

Do you know how much a drunk picture of Prince Tommy is worth?

Too much

Some random guy on his first paparazzi job, gets a pic of Tommy, shirt mostly unbuttoned, tie tied around his head, drinking out of a beer bottle, and flipping off the camera while stumbling out of the most expensive hotel in the UK

The guy never has to work again

Purpled son of some billionaire, and Ranboo a literal prince is with him

They are both laughing at him

Tommy swung on a chandelier that night

A picture of that ends up online, some socialites Twitter

The amount of people in her dms for that picture?

Ludicrous

Like just the random pictures from Snapchat stories

Magazines pay thousands

Yeah the amount of double takes people have done going through their friends Snapchat stories like

Just tapping through

“WAIT WAS THAT PRINCE THOMAS????”

So, Dessert Drinks

It’s alcoholic beverages that have like chocolate or gram crackers or maybe candy in them

That are meant to taste like a dessert

So there’s chocolate cake margaritas, or like s’mores drinks

They’re Tommy’s favorite things in the world

Everyone thinks that he’d like the like strong, burning, whiskey esk stuff

But no

He wants the sweetest thing you got

Like he’ll drink straught vodka, but not if he doesn’t have too y’know?

He also like wine strangely enough

The like really expensive wine

Bc it reminds him of Wil

They have it down in the cellar

Techno is the whiskey dude

Or like 1942

Which is just a really bougie tequila

He just likes the shit that burns

Tubbo will drink literally anything

He’ll eat anything too

It definitely comes from the spot that he didn’t have that many choices like Tommy, but he genuinely just likes anything

Which is why Tommy really likes to treat him out to fancy fucking restaurants

One of Tommy’s favorite past times is spoiling his loved one

Fucking loves giving presents n shit

It's his love language

Ranboo doesn’t pay for anything when he’s visiting

Tommy insists on paying

Tommy has millions from the throne, he will use it

Plus he uses his daddy’s card so like, Phil can afford to spend the money

Oh he has one of those black cards doesn’t he

And by he I mean Phil

But you know, Daddy’s card

Black amex all the way

Boujie motherfuckers

Tommy's drunk like persona is different depending on the environment

When its Wilbur and Techno having to deal with Drunk Tommy

He’s like an excitable puppy, he would switch from rowdy to sappy real quick for his brothers

So they’re trying to get a drunk Tommy to bed but Tommy’s 100% clinging to them

Just full of affection

Techno tries to leave to go study and drunk Tommy just looks so fucking sad

Kicked puppy

He’s very much turning on the little brother charm, full scale pouting, whining, nicknames and all

making grabby hands, sitting on thr ground, fluffed up hair, shirt all wrinkled

"Fucking - fine. What are you gonna do without me, hm?"

He’s a god damned puppy and it’s hard to believe this is the same kid who got in a bar fight last week

he hangs off the chandeliers of boogie hotels

he also trashes his friend's rentals

on the other hand, he hugs his brothers

and steals Wilbur's crown

when he wears Will's crown it goes over his eyes

Still does after all these years

He’s grown but Wils head is simply too big

Tommy has his own crown of course

he just doesn't wear it as often as Wilbru does

Wilbur wears his all of the time

Tommy wears his when

A. he's drunk and with friends

B. at formal or royal events

he likes wearing it when he's partying

still thinking about drunk Tommy and his brothers having to deal with him

He makes techno give him a piggy back ride

He can walk fine, he just wants a piggy back ride man

Can you blame him?

They all really miss being little

They miss being able to be kids n shit

when their mother took care of them

and their father did all the king shit

And when Techno would give Tommy piggyback rides in the garden

When Wilbur had all the time in the world to learn how to play guitar

Even if it comes from Tommy getting drunk off his ass they’re glad they can still find the childish joy that they once had y’know?

Techno gives Tommy a piggy back ride to his room, and Tommy steals Wilbur’s crown and they talk and it’s nice

And as everything winds down Wilbur plays his guitar

And it’s so similar to when they were younger man

...

but then,,, Wilbur gets called down for an emergency meeting

and Techno has to make sure the guards are doing their rounds

and Tommy's left all alone in The Prince's Chambers

and people wonder why Tommy likes partying

fills the time, doesn't it?

He wakes up cold and alone and hungover

And he calls Tubbo and they just fucking day drink man

It’s a bad two days

Yeha but basically after this night he and Tubbo get fucking drunk as hell and they don’t come back to the castle for two days

And Tommy is barely sober during those two days

After those type of days happen Tommy always goes completely straightedge for a week

He doenst need to develop an addiction y’know?

Plus the chaos doesn’t have to happen drunk

He’s pretty irrational sober anywyas

half of the parties he's at he's not even drunk

sometimes he'll get high

but he just likes the adrenaline

and just hanging and being fucking assholes with his mates

POV you are an emotionally wrecked prince who is hanging onto this present as proof that your dad knows who you are at least in the slightest and you find out it’s not actually a gift from him but something your mother told him to get you

He didn’t even think twice just called the dealership and asked for the car, didn’t even know which one it was

mmmmm Tommy wrecks Clem that night

It’s not a good night for anyone

Got drunk as hell man

No dd

Car crash

I don’t think Clem is totaled

And Tommy is ok

But she’s scratched and dented and it’s just a representation of how Tommy feels

Something about Clementine being symbolic of hope and the idea that his father knew him

And with that crashing down

Clementine was bound to crash too

Tommy gets out with some bruises and Clementine can be fixed

But it happens on a public street so it’s everywhere

Tommy wrecks Clem

Then fucking goes on a bender

just destroys shit

parties so he doesn't think about it

and then he fucking crashes

Wilbur and Techno and Kristin all know what the car meant to him, what it symbolized to him

So when there’s a headline and a picture of Tommy staring at a wrecked Clem, they don’t know how to feel

maybe he mentioned something about upgrading Clem to Phil, or offhandedly at family dinner

And Phil asks something like “Right and when did you get this one?” Very rudely y’know

And Tommy’s like, it’s the one you got me for my birthday last year, and Phil just says something about how he has to be more specific because he doesn’t even know which one that is

And Tommy feels everything crumble around him and he just tensely says, “never mind...” and goes back to his food

The other three watch the whole exchange like, “fuuuuuuuuuck”

And then as soon as dinners over Tommy’s out the door man

He’s gone

he doesn't take the dogs, which means he's causing damage

He doenst even take Tubbo

they can hear the handler hand Tommy the keys

Tubbo comes to Wil to ask if he knew where Tommy was and that’s when they realize Tommy’s going out to cause real damage

And Tommy’s phone is turned off

They can’t contact him

Tommy gets handcuffed

he won't get arrested, but he'll get brought back in a police car

he fucking like crashed into a poll on purpose

like it was less on purpose and more like he definitely wasn’t not trying to hit something

And then they fucking breathalyzer him and he’s drunk as balls

Straight vodka type night

there's a bottle in the cupholder

He gets out when he wrecks and you just see him dead eyed staring at the scratches on her hood

The dent in her door

The cracks in the windshield

And he just takes a swig of the bottle

He lets the police take the bottle and handcuff him, taking him back to the palace

Clem is towed back too

He doenst care man

this is bigger than party to distract Bc it’s all he’s thinking about even drunk n shit

So I feel like he’s absolutely crushed

he spends like a week or two in a depressive episode won't leave his room, won't talk to his dad

and then he asks his mom "why didn't you tell me?"

and she just purses her lips and and shakes her head

and he's out

he needs to leave

he doesn't need her pity

and he just goes to Purp's and parties

because he just wants to have fun for one night before he learns that everything is a lie

His brothers are there as much as he lets them be

Tubbo too

Ranboo would try to make it over after seeing the headlines

he gets on a jet

and goes as soon as he sees the news

cause Clem was Tommy's baby

He loved that fucking car man

And then

Boom

One dinner is all it took to ruin everything

Phil's just left like "what'd I do?"

Techno is straight faced

Wilbur rolls his eyes at Phil

And Kristin just looks stressed

She’s still staring the the door Tommy all but ran out of

none of them finish dinner, Kristin waves the butlers over to clear the plates

They don’t, and Phil is just so confused and frustrated and he doesn’t know what happened

Top 10 Prince Tommy Headlines: 10. Mourning or Disrespectful: Prince Thomas caught smoking outside grandmother's funeral 9. New Connections? Prince Thomas and Prince Ranboo seen outside Palace walking Royal Dogs 8. Protective Older Brother; Crown Prince William shielding Prince Thomas from cameras while walking down London streets 7. When Will He Stop? Prince Thomas continues his week-long bender 6. Another Frat Party: Prince Thomas found stumbling drunk after rowdy night at The Ritz London 5. Boy Crazy? Prince Thomas and Mystery Boy seen dancing at Crown Prince William's Birthday Ball 4. Is Prince Thomas's Rampage Over? The Prince seen hungover, nursing a coffee at London Branch Costa Coffee 3. Time to stop; Prince Thomas caught doing cocaine at socialites party 2. A good friend - Prince Thomas flew to the United States to help Prince Ranboo with new responsibilities

1. When is enough, enough? Prince Thomas crashes after driving drunk, arrested.

10 Tommy doesn’t smoke cigs so mans was just getting high at his grandmas funeral

he was real close with his granny, it was a sad day

It was because his father said something like “oh, I didn’t know you were coming Tommy”

It was his fucking grandmother Phil

Tommy just puts his sun glasses on, and sits as far away as he can

Number 5, the boy is Tubbo, Tubbo thinks it’s fucking hilarious, Tommy is pissed

Some of those headlines seem like they’re from the car month

Obviously number one is

But then the bender headline

Then the coffee one

And then the Wilbur one

They seem like a series of events

big month for the press

Tommys hungover and he calls Wil asking for him to pick him up

And Wilbur drops everything Bc he’s just glad Tommy’s coming back home

wilbur fucking glares at the cameras

Tommy's used to it

And then the press tries to mob them and Wilbur Almost breaks decorum

Like almost fucking yells at someone who gets too close

and Wilbur never does that

he's so in-line

he never breaks the rules

but goddamn if they take one step closer -

He’s been especially stressed, and all he wants is to get his baby brother home man

He’s been smoking a lot more since the wreck

He just wishes he could make everything better

Tommy relishes in talking to the press

Wilbur will clart someone who gets to close to his baby brother

The press who’s never seen Wilbur as anything other than composed and charming suddenly being faced with a very angry older brother who smells slightly like cigarette smoke

Wilbur in the Pogtopia coat but it’s some designer piece that’s expensive as hell

It’s his smoking coat

And it’s what he picks Tommy up in

So he smells like smoke

And not the tasteful cologne he usually wears in public

just like a dark overcoat

really expensive wool

Wilbur using it to cover them from the cameras

when they were younger, like 16 and 12, Wilbur would hide Tommy

like no one got a picture of Tommy until he was 14 or 15

Kristin really hid the boys when they were kids too

Tommy trying to peak out and make faces at the camera

it was illegal to get pictures of them younger than 10

like immediate blacklist

And also maybe some legal issues

Wilbur pulls Tommy's hood up over Tommy's head

And it’s very older brother of him too, he pulls it over to protect his face but then cinches the strings to be a little shit

Those Wilbur and Tommy brother moments comps exists in the universe too

But it’s just shit like that

Tommy has a great support system

He really does

His brothers love him

His mom loves him

He has two amazing friends and a bunch of other great friends as well

And sometimes he feels like a brat for throwing all these fits over his dad y’know?

Wilbur always tries to like, keep an arm around him when they're doing red carpets

And keeps Tommy sitting next to him at Royal events

but also like, steals food off his plate

and ruffles his hair

Tommy whispers the fucking worst jokes about the dignitaries and nobles and Wilbur has to keep a straight face

god thats tommys favorite thing to do

he tries so hard to get Wilbur to laugh and lose his shit

The fucking big boobs bit

But it’s Tommy whispering it to Wilbur completely out of context and randomly at a gala

ALSO

THE WHOLE EXTENDED FAMILY BULLSHIT

TOMMY HATES IT

LIKE WHO THE FUCK IS THIS LIKE AUNT TO HIM?

HE DOESNT KNOW HER

But Royal Families are always big on that shiit

They try to hug him n shit

And Tommy depending on how Brave n shit he’s feeling (how fed up he is) will either politely excuse himself or straight up say no and step back with a glare

he's honestly uncomfortable around the strangers

who say they're family

like he's too sober for this

He needs a god damned drink

But he’s in a vest and a nice tie and his crown is sat proper on his head

And he can’t have a drink

god he's like a little doll, he plays by Phil's rules

the crown comes on and he's the proper prince

He fucking hates it

he sips on Wilbur's wine, and does the whole "tequila for water" thing sometimes

Flask in his sleeve

Techno catches him with the flask once and is just impressed

god is that a look on Techno's face

He sees Tommy slip it from his sleeve and somehow sleight off hand take a drink

And it’s just a raised eyebrow and a head nod that says

Good for you

Bc techno also needs a drink during these events

Sometimes Tommy will spike his and Techno's drinks

as Wilbur regally sips on wine

Wilbur fucking also secretly wishing he had a flask during the drier events

Wine drink just isn’t enough sometimes

Wilbur puts on his best face

and pretends he wants to be there

and gives out a warm smile, and raises a glass

god he fucking hates it sometimes

and sometimes he loves it

but man, does he hate it sometimes

Tommy complains and Phil makes a passive aggressive comment about how

“Oh but don’t you love parties Tommy.”

Wilbur sits between them

The table goes

Techno Kristin Phil Wilbur Tommy

Tommy just sneaks another sip of the flask

he doesn't have time to deal with his dads shit

Slumps back in the seat

He probably wouldn’t even try to hide it after that

Not like Phil is actually looking at him

He can let the press have it

He doenst care

just like leaves the flask next to him

under teh table

and jsut takes large swigs from it

Tommy maybe having a group of his friends crash one of the stuffy events

Not an important one

So fucking dedication ceremony to some inane building

He just invites a wild group of socialites

It’s nice

It’s not as wild as a normal Tommy Innit party

But it’s not a stuffy fucking boring ass royal meeting

they just bring some fucking whiskey into the back room and chat shit

Tommy fucking has a group of friends crash this gathering

It’s not wild

But it’s not stuffy

It’s nice

Tommy even drags Wilbur back for at least a little

and that takes a whole lot of work

It really does, Wilbur isn’t even a little tipsy off the wine, and Phil been by him the whole time and it’s just been hell, he can’t get wiobur away from the “socializing” hes doing

but when Wilbur is a bit tipsy he just becomes more charasmatic

truly a king

Less someone putting on a mask for their father

A little bit more authentic

he's a natural, sipping wine with one hand, and shaking hands with the other, crown propped beautifully on his head, million dollar suits hanging off his frame

It’s nice to see his brother in his element

its a bit sad

but its nice

A little yeah, Wilbur’s

Wilbur’s leaving him, not really but

Wilbur being king is-

It’s going to be hard

Different

More than it is already

Wilbur will always love him

But eventually he’ll be too busy for Tommy

Just like Phil is

And it hurts

But that thought is what makes Tommy take a drink of his flask and drag Wilbur to the back room

Wilbur doesn’t have to forget him yet

Tommy looks real regal too

Wilbur wishes that Tommy could see what he sees

But he knows that Tommy’s self worth issues would take more than a nice hug and some warm words to fix

Tommy looks regal, and the gold crown really fits with the whole golden boy aesthetic

and he laughs, and makes conversation with everyome

and everyone eases up around him

Wilbur wishes that Tommy saw what he sees

also

Tommy and Ranboo's texts have been leaked once

Wow so many dog pictures dude

but also

:sparkles:state secrets:sparkles:

That was hell to clean up

it fucking was

it used petnames (which the public is never supposed to know about the nickanmes of royals fun fact)

and said shit about Phil

and detailed Fundy's illness which isn't public

and talked about meetings that Wilbur forced Tommy to attend

Tommy was terrified

Ranboo too

He was so scared someone would be angry at him for it

He doesn’t think he could handle be yelled at for this thing that wasn’t even his fault

like of course he could've not said it over text

but one of his best friends lives an ocean away

and his life is just all about secrets

dont make this something too

:sparkles: hackers :sparkles:

if someone god a hold of Tommy's IP, or Phone, or Phone number

or

dms

they could be using instagram, twitter, or snapchat to have some of these converstaions

dms can get leaked real easily

Mmmm you ever think about Crime Bous

Because all I can think about is when Wilbur does get out of the house, and just like every event they go to

Tommy isn’t a fucking party boy then, he’s just Prince Thomas, Crown Prince William’s baby brother

And they always get photographed and shit

But they have a great time

They’re always smiling when they’re together

Sans Wilbur being a really protective older brother, and when their grandmother died

It’s nice to just go get lunch together at that one specific cafe they’ve been going to for years

Or just walk the dogs together

Just hang out and be brothers

They sit at the same table every time, and Tommy has gotten a Raspberry Lemonade since he was 8

When they walk the dogs, Wilbur holds Walter and Tommy holds Betty

Sunglasses on, big wool overcoats, and pants that were sewn just for them

And they’re seen walking out on the streets during big events a lot too

To like take a breather

Tommy has made a habit of allowing the press to ask him questions whenever they find him

Wilbur on the other hand always knows exactly what to say to press that come up to them

He always shoos them off with a polite “we won’t be answering any question right now thank you” and a blinding smile

And Tommy’s making a face at the press from over his shoulder

Either like sticking his tongue out or making some sort of face at Wilbur

As he gets older, he stops doing it as much because it gets a bit tiring, everything is tiring

But he does it every once in a while, usually a sharp grin over Wilbur’s shoulder accompanied by a middle finger

when like press sees that Wilbur smokes like a lot

hm

big thin

and I feel like Wilbur would straight up be like "its not a big deal, its completely legal"

and hes like smoking 8 cigs a day, but its fine

He doesn’t have an issue

It’s just a little stress relief

King at 21 is a lot to handle

and maybe the stress is so much that it becomes a problem

but hey its his relief

its legal

he's fine

That’s Wilbur’s mantra most of the time

he falls asleep in Tommys bed a lot, waiting for the teen to come home

wilbur does

he finishes a pack, and sighs, rubbing his eyes

The empire is on the brink of war, it always is

He looks in Tommy's room, its empty

And he sits on the bed, waiting

10 minutes later he's asleep

The sheets don’t smell like Wilbur, and Wil thinks that’s what makes it’s so comforting

They don’t stink of nicotine or Wilbur cologne

The smell like Tommy

and while that smell like expensive booze, and coconut shampoo

its perfect

and the dogs are in Tommy's room too

he's a little less alone

Betty is the cuddler

She’ll come up and sleep next to Wil

but she wont do it to just anyone

its a bond, its trust

its the fact that Tommy likes Wilbur

she growls at Phil

she nudges at Kristin, LOVES kristin

anyways

its lonely and sad

because Tommy usually doesnt come back

Tommy snakes back in early in the morning and tucks Wilbur in

Though most times Wilbur falls asleep in Tommys bed

Uncovered

Completely dressed

He’s lucky bettys fur is sleek otherwise his very expensive clothes would be covered

I think Wilbur more often then not will wake up with Tommy in his arms, and that makes him very happy

like, Tommy comes it at 5am, and just snuggles next to Wilbur

It’s makes Tommy sad to know his brother is waiting up for him to never come

But at the same time he’s always so happy to see him when he gets home

I imagine sometimes butlers come to get Wilbur for work, and Tommy makes them leave so that Wilbur can sleep in "Hello your highness, we came to fetch King Wilbur for his morning briefing" "He's sleeping." "Well, I can see that Your Highness -" "So let him sleep." "Prince Thomas -" "Let. Him. Sleep. Okay?" "Yes, Your Highness."

I've decided that Tommy is the big spoon

in these vulranable moments, when Wilbur is weak, Tommy kind of holds him

like obviously there are a lot of tims, where Wilbur wants to hold his baby brother

however, Tommy kind of holds Wilbur, like wraps himself around Wilbur, and puts Wilbur's head in the crook of his neck

this happens when Tommy comes home to find Wilbur in his bed

either this, or Tommy curls into a ball and rests his head against wilburs chest

Tommy has daddy issues

Wilbur has the weiht of the world

Techno has ptsd

Phil: fuck you my kids are completely fine!

Wilbur’s nicotine addiction

Tommys abandonment issues

Technos fucking PTSD

Once, when the empires war was getting really, really bad, and Wilbur had to decide life or death shit

He smoked a whole pack in a day

And then just kept going

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking

why wouldn't they stop fucking shaking

Tommy stopped partying that week, he isn’t ignorant, nor a fucking dick

He was Wilbur’s right hand for as long as he needed him

Despite how badly he wanted to party until he could see straight

His brother needed him

His king needed him

And he will gladly serve Wilbur as long as he would have him

He stood right behind Wilbur

Every decision

He was right behind him

Even if it meant constant decorum and constant royal dress, Tommy was there

And that was a grounding fact

If Tommy hadn’t been there Wilbur thinks he may have lost it that week

Sometimes the only thing that kept Wilbur’s hands from shaking terribly was holding Tommy’s hands

When the advisors and court had left

Tommy would take Wilbur hands and make him do breathing exercises

Wilbur wasn’t allowed to look anywhere other than Tommy’s eyes

They would get through this

Together

They would, Tommy would make sure of it

Tommy in the room also made everyone a bit nervous and loosen up around Wilbur though

Because sometimes they act like they can boss Will around

And Tommy is stone faced, and has the media wrapped around his finger

The court knows that all it would take is one “scandalous statement” from Prince Thomas to end their careers

Wilbur could fire them, but he’s stressed

Any other day, he’s a fucking FORCE to recon with

But Tommy? He’s here to ensure the best or their careers would end

And you know that Tommy has at least 3 sources in the biggest news outlets in the empire

He could get ANYTHING out there

Wilbur’s throne is the biggest in the middle

Two thrones smaller aside him

Within the like office / study / planning room

Tommy's hasn't been used until just then

Tommy finds it quite uncomfy

But he can deal

Also Tommy drops the nicknames for the week or so

No “Big Man”

It was “Will” and “William”

Your Majesty at one or two points

But that felt a little too formal for both of them

Too alienating

Tommy learned a whole fucking lot of fucking politics that week

Not that he didnt listen in his lessons it’s just that

Well

He can’t not listen if he’s not there

It’s different IRL too

Seeing all the decisions

It’s terrifying

And he’s exhausted

Dressing nicely and talking for 12 hours a day about politics

And life / death decisions

So many cuddles dude

Just permanently cuddling if they’re not presently working or “coping”

And I think

That although Wilbur is the one who’s going through it

When they cuddle, Wilbur likes to hold Tommy

Just in the sense that Tommy’s here and safe

In the midst of all the death around Wilbur

He needs to know that his person, his kid is alright

Plus having this one thing this one routine helps him feel a little on control during this out of hand time

:sparkles: Prince Tommy PR leak :sparkles:

I talked about how Tommy was close to his grandmother

and how he was smoking outside of her funeral

maybe it was during that time in his life

really dark place in his mind

smoked and drank every day

Wilbur smoked a lot during that time yet

they probably drank together a few times

like straight up vodka

Just they’re so young and so tired

and so its like, pictures of Wilbur and Tommy (and just Tommy) drinking in the parlor, and in the like, bar area of their private living area, dark eye bags, red eyes, just straight from the bottle

Both of their ties were undone, no jackets, sleeves rolled up to their elbows, Wilbur's top 3 buttons are undone, they're both like manspreading

like they're just at their lowest, particularly Tommy, but Wilbur was having an adjacent bad time

Tommy's hair is a fuckin' mess

HOWEVER, they're both still clean shaven, neither of their shorts or trousers are wrinkled or stained

They may be going through it, but the royal image waits for no one

How does the castle react? Immediate lock down.

Interrogations or some shit

none of the princes are allowed to leave

they have to do clean up

they write scripts essentially for Tommy and Wilbur to adress the press

they need to send out a memo that they don't agree with underage drinking

its all structured, scripted, and written by advisors (and their father)

major damage control

which is just not what Tommy needs right now, because he's like trying to work through his grief

and Wilbur has a fucking fight with his father about that

Phil does not care

They fucked up

Someone else fucked up

And now they’re going to be big boys and fix it Like Phil's going to Tommy's room to get him to look over what his quick press tour and Wilbur jsut stops him in front of the door "He's fucking grieving - Let him have a moment will you? Don't you know how close he was with Gran?" "You messed up. He messed up. Now you're gonna be big boys and fix it." “You’re horrible sometimes you know that?” “I am your father” “Then act like it, your majesty”

meanwhile Tommy: in bed, hasn't slept, major depressive spiral, cuddling Betty, Walter standing guard at his door, holding onto a blanket that his grandmother gave him

just - can't even cry anymore

just empty

Literally just despondent

Staring at the ceiling as Betty noses his face

like good luck getting to get up, let alone read shit

He hasn’t showered in days

He is very much not presentable

like it's only been a week or two since his grandmother's death

and he still is processing

He is no where near done grieving

[eilf]

"Et tu Brute" is used to mean "surprise at the unexpected betrayal by a friend" working in cahoots with a bunch of people you thought were your friends.

It's said when you have an escalation, in a short time of turning to see one person after another who you thought you could trust doing something untrustworthy.

Something you assumed wouldn't happen to you.

Something you believed your friends wouldn't do.

Something perhaps that outsiders looking on have long said seemed to be the case but you didn't believe them because THEY are outsiders and you have faith in your judgement of who your friends are.

And now you see it. Because it's very public and can't be stopped being Very Public.

So you voice how you feel in an actually smaller forum, but it gets noticed because it's a simple straightforward story and all the evidence YOU can see everyone else can see too.

Now YOU are told you should have silently allowed it. Nobody has a good "see, you misunderstood angle" (Brutus going "Knife? What knife? Oh THIS knife? It's not a knife it's "in development", what you're looking at here is a combination of a tree, a lump of iron and some of your organic matter) so you should have stayed quiet.

For everyone saying that "et tu Brute" was an overreaction you know perfectly well that was the honest man talking.

To the SPN fans who said one of the two shows leads should have said nothing about being treated this way: consider if that was a feature rather than a bug? Your fave and his wife and his writer thought that the other lead would just say "I didn't know anything about it". Because that's who Jensen thinks YOU are and what would make you support his show is him keeping his very long term friend who is integral to the parent show completely in the dark.

Were they really so convinced of the perception by various people (well, I know Robbie was) involved with the show over the past few years that that JA has all the fans and JP only a few? And that that's the way to get loyal SPN viewers for JAs new show? There's been a lot of cynical behaviour over the years within the SPN production arena (including actors) but that's mind-blowing. We'll probably never know now why they thought doing this this way was a good idea..

But, to those who support this primarily BECAUSE Jared was excluded from even knowing about the idea of it's existence, good luck with something you never would have supported except that it comes with a (so far undefended) deliberate side-order of "et tu Brute". Perhaps Jensen understands he has extreme fans better than we've all realised before now?

He seems to have misjudged his normal fans, who have been impressively clear about what happened.

I wouldn't have watched the prequel because SPN spoiled everything about Mary for me on her return and while I don't hate John he is a deeply unsympathetic character who brainwashed his older son to kill the younger one. Watching how he got to be that sort of person has no interest for me, watching a retconned show pretending he *didn't* do that (because the show's new producer & writer will want to whitewash Dean and double down on blaming Sam for what was done TO Sam) would just piss me off. So no, not interested in the prequel.

And I simply don't like pre-stories. They invariably mess with canon.

Jared can do all the PR saving of this he likes, people who are pissed are not (primarily) pissed because we're his fans, we're pissed because we are absolutely clear what happened and nobody who is not Jared has made any effort to deny it. Kripke's tweets and their deletion are an entire book to themself.

I do think it's pretty funny that there's some money guy somewhere going "we're IN DEVELOPMENT here, what's this I'm hearing? Whaddaya mean you came up with this idea 5 minutes before we started posting articles in industry publications about how long you've been keeping it a secret and it's still at the "notes on a napkin" stage?"

I wish I was angry at Jensen. I wish he had just said "oops my bad" because I could have gotten past that then and let it go. But I'm disappointed in everyone involved in causing Jared to be blindsided the way he was, I thought better only of JA but then it was actually Kripke who put his hand up to apologise.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 16

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.3k

Recommended song: “The Thrill” by Wiz Khalifa & Empire of the Sun

Your Saturday gets off to a great start when you spot Sylvie lurking in the corner of the garage. The woman pointedly raises an eyebrow at you when she notices you, the simple action setting you on edge. You glare at her in return, having none of it while Pierre suits up.

"Take care of this for me, will you?" Pierre places his cap backwards on your head. You smile, adjusting it so it's out of your eyes.

"I will." You glance over his shoulder before chastely kissing his cheek. You'd deal with Sylvie later; Pierre didn't need any distractions when he was about to get out on track.

"Nope, not acceptable." Pierre kisses your lips, completely unaware of the shit you'd likely catch as soon as he was gone because of it. 

You sigh and take half a step back. Having none of it, Pierre places a knuckle under your chin, tipping your face towards him.

"Sylvie making you nervous?" The pad of his thumb sweeping over your jaw gives you something solid to focus on. "I can ask her to leave if she is."

You shake your head. "Not nervous, no. But she's getting under my skin."

Pierre sets down his helmet and waves off Pyry who tries to shove it back in his hands, prepared to address the matter and hash out a solution immediately. "What's going on?"

"It's not a big deal," you try, "I can tell you after practice. You've only got a few minutes until lights out."

"I want to know now, mon amour."

Fighting was pointless. He would stand here until you spilled the beans so you might as well get it over with so he could get out on track. "Fine. Sylvie cornered me Thursday and asked me to lay low this weekend because of some interview you did. She gave me a copy of it but I didn't read it. She said it's bad for your image to be seen doting on me when you've got races to win."

Pierre blinks, head swiveling in slow motion. Sylvie watches your interaction like a hawk, waiting for either of you to slip up. "And you kept this to yourself?"

"I didn't want to distract you. You've got a job to do." A blush creeps up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks. "Sylvie was mad enough at me, I didn't want her in your face too."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "That's bullshit. I stood up for you. That's why she's pissed. I told them you were just as important to me as racing."

Your heart somersaults in your chest. "You said that in an interview? Pierre, that's-"

Pierre drops Sylvie's stare and meets yours. "I love you and I won't apologize for it. I don't have time to talk to her now though- are you okay being here with her until after practice?"

"I'll be okay as long as you top the time charts," you tell him, a smile playing on your lips. When you'd gotten back together you had told yourself nothing would come between the two of you again, up to and including nosy PR agents who couldn't keep their hands out of your business.

"I will, just for you." Helmet in hand, he pecks your cheek before heading to the car. Pierre shoots Sylvie a glare and says something to Pyry before clambering into the car.

Pyry doesn't leave your side for the entirety of practice, chasing off Sylvie each time she tries to approach you. Pierre nearly tops the charts, sitting second fastest on the famed street circuit. Only Max clocked a faster time, which didn't surprise anyone. Pierre's side of the garage erupts when he is wheeled inside and is met with claps on the back and wide smiles from his team.

Confidence radiates from him as he peels off his helmet and thanks his team. A grin from ear to ear splits his face as he makes his way to you before he even bothers to unzip his suit. Before you know it he's swept you in his arms and planted a kiss on your lips.

"It's not first, but I'll take second if you're waiting here when I get back."

"It's only practice," you remind him, swiping away a bead of sweat from his neck with the pad of your thumb. "But you drive like that for quali in a few hours and you might get your first pole."

"What did I tell you?" Sylvie hisses, ruining the moment and sending you crashing back to earth. 

Instead of falling into line, Pierre's grip on your waist tightens. "Leave her alone, Sylvie."

"This isn't good for you," the woman insists. "People are saying you've gone soft-"

"I don't care what they say. My results speak for themselves." And they did. Second fastest today in practice, despite Monaco being a track that Pierre generally had a poor record at. "When I start slipping to the back of the pack you can talk to me about it. But even then it's out of your wheelhouse. I don't care what the gossip columns have to say about me-"

Pierre breaks off and you can see the pieces clicking in his head. "You've never cared either, not even when I got demoted. Horner put you up to this, didn't he?"

Sylvie straightens under the weight of Pierre's question, good enough as giving him an answer. "I have a job to do."

"And so do I." His words freeze over, his attitude icy. "How about you back off and let me do it? I don't need another person breathing down my neck. And she certainly doesn't either. And you know what? I'll make you a deal. If I win tomorrow, you leave us alone and keep your nose out of my personal life."

"You'll thank me when your name is out of the tabloids." Bewildered, you stare after her until Pierre's lips meet your temple, the simple gesture sending a tingle down your spine.

"I wish it was easier for us," you murmur, placing a hand on his broad chest as if you were the only two in the garage. "But as long as I have you, it's worth the fight."

"Don't let it get to you. You make me a better racer, no matter what anyone says. You taught me that I have something to fight for. You're the one that picks me up when I don't think I can make it. Without you, I probably would've blown my chance at taking seventh in the championship."

"And I'm the one that tells you when it's time to get your ass back in the car and race your heart out." You grin up at him, not caring for a second who was watching this time when you kiss him. "I expect you to be a pole sitter next time you're back in this garage. I might have already told my mom it was happening, so don't make me a liar."

"If I take pole, will you wear my cap again tonight? Just my cap?"

"That could be arranged."

**********

Pierre may not have taken pole, but qualifying fifth was more than enough reason to treat him to fulfilling his request. With only the Red Bulls, Charles and Hamilton ahead of him, you were confident he could at minimum hold his position, and at best his team would come up with a strategy that saw him undercut one or two of the guys ahead and put him on the podium.

As usual, Pierre gets to the circuit a few hours early to clear his head and walk the track one last time. Since it’s not a mandatory part of his race preparation, you take the opportunity to walk with him. The clouds part just enough for the sun to shine down on him, practically glowing in the light. Apparently not even the celestial bodies were immune to his beauty, coming out solely to appease him. Your gaze eats up the curve of his throat as he tips his head back to enjoy the golden rays warming his skin.

“Beau Rivage,” he murmurs as you come up to the right hand bend. “One of the few spots for overtaking, if you’re lucky.” Pierre studies the pavement, noting where patches of gravel had built up and toeing them with his shoe. His commitment was something to behold; not even Max could be bothered with a track walk on Wednesday, and forget about waking up with the dawn to participate in an optional one on race day.

Pierre was different though, throwing himself into the sport and refusing to commit anything less than a hundred percent. That commitment was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place and continued to be something you admired. You missed him when you were apart, but hearing the thrill in his voice when he spoke about racing lines or braking points never failed to remind you that he was living his dream and you would never stand in his way.

You thread your fingers through his, soaking it in as he walks you through the track. This wasn’t an opportunity you had often and you were determined to embrace and enjoy it.

“Massenette and Casino Square. This braking zone is tricky, if you go too wide you’ll lose seconds of time and probably a good chunk of your front wing, unless by some miracle you miss the barrier.”

Having little to offer to his assessment, you rest your head on his shoulder as you walk. You try to see the track through his eyes, picturing the cockpit around you as you attempt to pick out an adequate braking point.

You continue on in amiable silence, stopping once or twice so Pierre can take pictures with fans and chat with them. Eventually you come to a corner you recognize, one of the most infamous.

“I know this one.” You puff out your chest, holding an imaginary microphone to your lips. “The Lowes hairpin. Slowest corner on the calendar. The cars decelerate to 65 kph, a feat achieved nowhere else.”

Pierre throws his head back and laughs, making your heart stutter. You never wanted to go another day without hearing the full-bellied sound, rich and rife with more happiness than should be humanly possible. “You only know that because Crofty and Brundle bring that up every race, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” You beam back at him when he shakes his head, the action more to say I knew it than to express disappointment. Because he could never be disappointed in you, especially not for taking an interest in what he loved. You tended to queue up archived races to listen to in the background as you studied, meaning it was inevitable that some of the quips from the commentators rubbed off on you sooner or later.

“Now this is my favorite,” Pierre says, adjusting his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes.

“The swimming pool chicaines? Why?” They were considered boring by most racers, flat out but navigable by muscle memory if you’d had enough practice.

Pierre’s self assured grin leaves you in a puddle on the pavement. “Cause I’ll be jumping in that pool today, and I’m taking you with me.”

"I don't think so." You point to the hoodie you wore, one that you had stolen from his closet ages ago and since refused to give back under any circumstances. "I'm in irreplaceable gear. I don't want to ruin it."

Pierre rolls his eyes, dropping your hand in favor of slinging an arm around your shoulders. "I love it when you wear my clothes. My hat yesterday, my hoodie today, anything really. I love having that claim on you."

"If only I could get you to wear some of mine," you muse as the pit boxes come into view. 

"If you ask nicely, I'd consider it."

The garage is thrumming with anticipation before Pierre even enters. Checo’s engine penalty is all anyone can talk about, his subsequent start from the pit lane meant Pierre would effectively move up a place and start fourth.

Pierre is whisked away as soon as Tost spots him, the warm old man greeting you before stealing your boyfriend away. You know your way around well enough to be comfortable, staking out your spot along the back wall to observe the team's preparations. The early wake up call was quickly catching up with you however, your lack of movement causing you to stifle a yawn with the back of your hand.

"You look like you could use a coffee."

A young woman about your age steps into your line of sight and holds out a steaming foam cup. "Er, sure, thanks."

"Alana," she says, sticking her hand out for you to shake. "I'm one of the junior engineers for the team. I've seen you around once or twice, I figured it was about time I introduced myself."

"Thank you for the coffee, Alana." You lift the cup in mock salute and take a sip, the contents rich and flavorful. "I swear, I don't know what you guys lace this with, but it's addictive as hell."

The two of you share a laugh that earns you a few confused glances. "I think we're gonna be great friends," she says, tapping her own cup against yours. "It's nice to see another woman around the paddock. Sometimes it gets a little testosterone heavy."

You nod, taking another swig. You can practically feel the caffeine working, already a little more alert than you were minutes ago. 

"It's great luck." 

"Pierre moving up a place?"

Alana laughs, her ponytail swaying as she shakes her head. "No, I meant you being able to attend the race. You picked the best weekend to be trackside, the podium celebrations are the best."

Pierre startles you by snaking an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your cheek.

"There's our star," Alana says, her smile bright and optimistic. "Better bring your team another trophy! The next one is going in the engineering department, they already have a little plaque made up and everything. I can see it right from my desk."

"Oh I'll bring one home," he replies, his hand casually grazing your ass as he moves to stand beside you. "I already promised her I would and I'm a man of my word."

"I know you will." 

"You have those time tables I asked about?"

"They're in the engineering suite." Alana hooks a thumb over her shoulder and smiles at you. "You're welcome to come back with us. He concentrates better when you're around anyway."

"Are you sure?" Red Bull never let you anywhere near proprietary data. You and any of Max's guests had always been corralled into the vip suite with the occasional venture down into the garage when they were wrapping up.

"You're part of the family," Alana explains as if it was obvious. "Of course I'm sure."

Pierre grins and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. His team knew he wanted you near and they were willing to bend the rules to make it happen. "We'll try not to bore you to death." 

You sit through a half hour worth of numbers and codes you didn't understand, your arm slung around the back of Pierre's chair. He offers tidbits and asks questions while Alana and the other engineers walk him through scenarios, ensuring he has everything down. The way he spoke was quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever had the pleasure of witnessing, aside from post race Pierre with his sweaty hair sticking up in every direction and an adrenaline infused smile on his red cheeks.

Before you know it the two of you are ushered off to his driver's room, Pierre changing into his fireproofs and suit while you treat yourself to some of the snacks lying about. Pyry knocks just as Pierre zips his suit up to his chin.

"Hunt 'em down," you say, resting your forehead to his and stealing a moment for the two of you.

"Always do."

And god, does he ever.

Ten laps in, Hamilton is complaining about the balance of his Mercedes, the gap between himself and Max is only a few seconds and rapidly decreasing. The headphones you wear allow you to catch snips of driver radio and team communications, and you gather that Hamilton is slowly losing power. No one is sure if it's an electronics issue or an engine issue but they aren't complaining either.

Flawless pit stops from most teams see little shift in track positions, Pierre still holding fast to P4 a little over halfway through the seventy eight laps. Alpha's stellar strategy sees him rejoin fifth after sliding into the pits for a set of mediums to take him to the end of the race.

"Gap to Norris three seconds ahead," comes the voice in your ear. 

Pierre clings tight to the rear of Lando's papaya McLaren ahead, using DRS to his advantage and practically toying with the younger racer, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Three short laps later, Pierre skirts around the McLaren at Beau Rivage and reclaims fourth.

Hamilton's ability to stretch tire performance to the maximum means he gets ten more laps before he's in the pits, Max closing in on his track position. The Mercedes crew stumbles, the pit stop more than twice as long as it should be, and Hamilton rejoins fourth.

"In the podium places," Pierre's engineer states.

Seconds later, white smoke pours from Max's Red Bull and he pulls off, causing a yellow flag and bunching up the pack.

P2, with only the Ferrari standing between Pierre and a win.

"Easy pickings Pierre, choose your moment."

Your heart pounds and your nails bite into your palms as Pierre goes around the outside at the hairpin, the entire garage shouting when he somehow gets away clean and the Monegasque backs off enough for Pierre to take the lead.

"P1 mate, two laps to go, two laps."

Pierre's brisk copy tells you all you need to know. He wasn't about to let this win slip through his fingers. Neck craned up at the screen, you watch as Pierre fights tooth and nail to fend off his friend, gasping audibly when a slight lockup nearly causes the two to collide around a chicane.

When he crosses the line, all you hear is a staticy scream.

Pierre Gasly, you are a Monaco Grand Prix winner!

It almost doesn't feel real how everyone around you begins jostling for the podium, their momentum carrying you along. A combination of luck and skill had seen him skyrocket to the top.

When you finally catch a glimpse of him in parc ferme, he stands atop the halo, arms spread wide amongst the deafening cheers of both Red Bull sister teams. Pressed between sweaty bodies, his team all push to the front to be the ones to congratulate him. 

You blink back hot tears. Pierre had fought incredibly hard to be on that top step, not just today but the entire season. Being demoted from Red Bull last year had been a backhanded blow, one that when coupled with his insistence on going back to the team in the future had warranted a feeding frenzy of media that ebbed and flowed as rumors surfaced. He'd been under the microscope ever since, struggling to keep his head above water but managing to come out on top.

Someone pushes you forward just as he takes off his helmet, his grin wild and unrestrained. Your mouth is open, his name on the tip of your tongue when a hand closes around your arm.

"This isn't your moment," Sylive says, near shouting to be heard over the roar. "No one wants to see you up there in the frame. This is his podium, let the media see that."

This woman really wanted to be knocked out, didn't she?

"He just won the prix." Dumbfounded at her audacity, you shake your head. "Leave us alone, he won."

"He could win the championship and I would still tell you to back off. There's hundreds of cameras out there, do you even have it in you to hold yourself together when they're all flashing at you?"

If she had asked you that question a few months ago, the answer would have been no, absolutely not. Now that you'd been to hell and back it was an entirely different story. You could walk through the throng and come out the other side unscathed if you had your best friend and partner at your side. He would shield you for the worst of it, be their punching back in order to make the burden bearable.

"Sylvie, if you don't get your hands off me-"

"Oh, sure," she says, releasing you with a smile. "He's already gone anyway. I only needed a minute."

Brow furrowed, you investigate her claim to find the truth of it. Pierre was already being herded away towards the podium, toweling off the residual sweat and setting his helmet on the provided stand. He throws one last glance over his shoulder before climbing the steps to the podium, his baby blue eyes cloudy when they should have been sunny.

Pierre's team principal calls your name as the boys take their places on the steps, gesturing for you to join him at the barriers. "Where were you? He was looking for you."

"No, I know," you start, shaking your head and gazing up at your racer. "Sylvie has it in her head that I shouldn't be photographed with him-"

"Say no more," Tost says, then pauses as the crowd claps. "I've never liked her."

"You and me both," you say under your breath as the anthems play. 

Pierre's hungry gaze scours the crowd for you, hands folded neatly behind his back while he bounces on his feet. When he finally spots you in Tost's shadow his shoulders straighten the tiniest bit, like he had been half expecting you to be absent. The pride in his posture is reflected in your smile, a fact that he picks up on and leverages to shine even brighter. 

Absently, you register the shutter of a camera going off as you beam up at Pierre. Your winner locks eyes with you before popping the cork of his champagne and spraying his fellow podium sitters, Daniel and Charles, before taking a long swig. Daniel blows a kiss to his girlfriend who mimes catching it and tucking it away while Pierre simply wraps Charles in an embrace, marveling in their first shared Formula 1 podium.

Pierre is surprisingly the first to leave, stalking off with his trophy and bottle in hand before the cameras have even stopped rolling. You track his progress, the crowd slowing him like he was a marble trying to sink through molasses. His thanks are short, his smile tight as he makes his way to you, eyes locked on his target and utterly unwilling to yield.

You meet him at the barrier which you still haven't been allowed to cross thanks to security taking their job far too seriously. Pierre doesn't care, tucking his trophy under his arm and unhooking a section so that you can slip through.

A laugh bubbles out of you when he wraps you in a bone crushing hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning in circles. Taking his face in your hands you kiss him passionately, wholly aware of the cameras on you. This was your moment to share with him; your universe had narrowed to his arms around you and the sweat-slick skin beneath your fingers.

"Congratulations," you murmur against his lips. "How's it feel to be a Monaco grand prix winner?"

"Better now that I've gotten to hear you say it." The brim of his Pirelli cap gets in the way when he tries to kiss you again and he turns it around.

"You gonna celebrate tonight, race winner?" The endearment works just as you had wanted it to, pride and something more primal flashing in his eyes.

His voice drops, his wicked grin already causing heat to pool in your core. "I have a few ideas."

"Me too." Now that the crowd has disappeared somewhat, you grow bold and nip at his lower lip. It sends a thrill through you to rile him up so publicly, his fingers tightening on your hips in surprise.

"Mon amour, you stop that right now." The slight shake in his voice betrays his true feelings. "I still have to weigh in and debrief."

"Maybe I want you thinking of me while you're there." You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning when he gulps. "Thinking of all the things I'll let you do when you get back to the apartment. Charles will be gone all night partying with Ferrari, I'm sure. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"We've got a full night ahead of us." He grins, tongue darting out over his lips. "We've got the winners dinner too."

You tip your head to the side. "Winners dinner? I don't-"

Someone calls his name and you both look in their direction. A race official, clearly fed up with your little display of love, waves Pierre over.

"Duty calls." Reluctantly, Pierre sets you back on your feet and passes off the champagne before he retreats to answer questions or whatever it was the official needed from him.

Watching him walk away, all you can think about is getting him back to the apartment. But first, you'd drag it out as much as he'd let you.

*********

Pierre spends the entirety of the debrief locked in an unending battle between thinking of you in compromising positions and actually giving feedback to his team. It wasn't his fault that you planted the seed in his mind; he couldn't help but expand on what your dirty little lips had whispered in his ear once he finally found you after the podium. 

"Okay, I think that's all we have. See you all at the pool in an hour," Alina says, and Pierre practically rips off his headset and sprints back to his driver's room. He bursts in without stopping to knock, earning him a yelp as you drop your phone on your face.

"Ow. A warning would be nice."

"I don't care," Pierre breathes, locking the door behind him and crossing to where you lay on the couch in a few long strides. "I've got an hour till I'm due to make an appearance for the cameras at the pool, care to make it memorable?"

"Oh, I don't know." You pick your phone back up and continue scrolling through it after giving him a once over. Leaving his race suit on and half undone served dual purposes: he didn't have to change again before the photo op at the pool and it drove you crazy. Apparently, his plan hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. "I kinda like seeing you all worked up."

"Come on," he practically whines, dropping to his knees to meet your glinting eyes. "Please?"

"I think you can wait." The corners of your mouth tug up and it's all he can do to resist leaning forward dragging your full bottom lip between his teeth. Energy still thrums through him, the adrenaline not yet faded.

Noting his stare, you roll your eyes. "Okay, one kiss-"

He doesn't let you finish, leaping on the opportunity to get a tiny sliver of what he wants. His tongue prods your lip and he groans when you open and allow him to explore. Hands glide over your hips while yours find his shoulders, nails digging in through the thin material of his fireproofs. Without breaking the kiss Pierre slots himself above you, a leg on either side of yours and caging your head between his forearms where they rest on the arm of the couch.

When he grinds his hips against yours in search of any sort of relief, you turn your head to the side. Pierre doesn't care, simply trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck. The building could be burning to the ground around him and he wouldn't move, too enraptured by you to be bothered.

"Pierre, my love, be patient." You push lightly at his chest and he finally breaks away, chest heaving. God, he needed you. Hadn’t stopped thinking about you once since he crossed that finish line in first. "Where's that unwavering self restraint you show on the track?"

"I'm not racing." He possessed no self restraint when it came to you. In your presence every sane thought flew out the window, replaced by the sound of your laugh and the shape your mouth made when you said his name.

"Waiting makes it sweeter," you tease, the phrase jangling something loose in his brain. He had said the same thing months ago when your roles had been reversed. If he could go back in time and slap himself upside the head for uttering those words, he would.

Pierre sits up with a huff and pulls you into his lap. "No fair. I just won a race, at Monaco no less, and you're gonna tell me I have to wait when you're sitting here looking perfectly edible?"

You tip your head back and laugh. "I am, because I know you'll enjoy it more tonight."

"But we have the drivers dinner too-"

You put a finger to his lips, which he immediately bites softly. "Be patient. I know you can do it, big boy."

Pierre groans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall forward to rest on your sternum. "I'm going to remember this."

Your traitorous fingers wind in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. "How about a massage while you wait, hmm? Would that calm some of this energy you've got built up?"

"No," he grumbles, pressing a kiss to your chest. "That'll make it worse."

"Well then I think it's a perfect idea." Pierre makes you work for it, forcing you to peel his hands off your hips one at a time before you can stand. "Fireproofs off and on your tummy, come on then."

Pierre obeys, eagerly tossing his shirt across the room. He knew he'd regret it and your teasing would leave his head spinning, but anything that got him closer to you was acceptable.

"Lay down." 

The command stirs something in his chest. He kisses you once before pillowing his arms under his head and allowing you to straddle his thighs. Your knuckles work at the stiff cords of muscle along his spine and he doesn't tamp down on the small noises of pleasure that start in the back of his throat. Once in a while you lean forward to press a kiss to his bare back, each one setting off a chain reaction in him that goes straight to his cock.

When you reach the base of his spine, he goes completely limp under your fingers. "Merde," he whispers, both a plea and a praise. "Right there, baby."

Something had been digging into his back during the race and it caused a knot to form by his left hip. A low moan escapes him before he can stop it and you hum in approval.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"So good," is all he manages to get out around the noise in his brain. His head is filled with your touch, reducing him to ash beneath you. You work at the spot until it's pliable, sweeping your thumb over it once more for good measure. You finish up with his back and move to his arms, dancing over the swells of muscle like you'd been a masseuse your entire life.

"God, where did you even learn this? You're better than Pyry."

"YouTube. And that's because it's different when it's someone you love versus your trainer. I can drag it out and let you enjoy it more."

He's completely lost track of time when the alarm on his phone goes off, signaling the end of this current round of torture.

"You know you're coming with me to the pool," Pierre says matter of factly as you climb off him. He stands and rolls his shoulders, bouncing on his toes. "I feel like a brand new man."

You guide his fireproof shirt back over his head after retrieving it from wherever you'd tossed it earlier. You zip his race suit up with a wink that almost makes hims say fuck it and miss the event entirely. "Glad I could be of assistance."

Hand in hand, Pierre leads you through the paddock and falls in with the Alpha team as they head for the swimming pool. Being around his crew again brings the excitement of his win back to the surface and he's practically buzzing with it by the time they arrive at the gate. Journalists, photographers and a few of his fellow drivers mingle about the packed space, some of them clapping him on the back and offering praise. None of it truly registers until Max, usually hot-headed after a DNF like he had suffered today, pulls him in for a hug.

"Great racing, mate. You deserved that one, that's for sure."

"You better play nice with him next year Max." You wag your finger at the Dutchman, earning you a chuckle. "Or I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

"Now that's something I'd pay to see: you versus Christian Horner. A mighty fight."

Not wanting to jinx it, Pierre doesn’t comment on your confidence that he’ll be on Max’s team next year. His win today had seen him move up comfortably into eighth, and he was closing in on Lando quickly. As long as he played his cards right and finished higher up in the points, he was starting to think he could pull it off.

Pierre doesn't note Sylvie's approach until she clears her throat and all three of you turn in tandem. Pierre picks up on the way your demeanor instantly shifts from light and playful to defensive and he puts himself between the two of you.

"Photo op time."

"Right yeah." Pierre squeezes your hand in farewell and follows Sylvie to where a spot has been cleared at the head end. Standing there before the water, Daniel's dramatic belly flop comes to mind and Pierre knows he has to top that celebration or he'll never hear the end of it.

Someone- maybe you, he couldn't quite tell- starts a chant of his name, growing louder and louder until it reaches a fever pitch. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide and he spreads his arms, his head falling back and eyes sliding shut as he lets the chant wash over him. Letting it sink in that he stood on the top step of the podium at the most legendary track in Formula 1, his name now joining the likes of Senna and Schumacher as Monaco grand prix winners.

He's drunk on it, on the screams and the shouts and the general feeling of being on top of the world and being untouchable.

Head dizzy, he searches for you, shooting you a wink when he spots you crouched right on the edge of the pool. God, you were gorgeous, wearing his hoodie with his logo splashed across the front and your cheeks flushed from the height of the moment.

Pierre takes a few steps back and gets a running start to leap into the pool, tucking his knees to his chest and cannonballing in. The water closes over his head and everything is dull for a split second before he pushes off the bottom and surfaces, cheers assaulting his senses in the best way.

Laughing, he shakes out his hair and poses for a few of the cameras pointed at him. In that moment he doesn't care what Sylvie or Christian or anyone for that matter thinks, all he wants is to share this euphoria with you, for you to be enthralled by it as he is.

The waterlogged suit makes it hard to swim but he manages, crossing to you and pushing off the concrete lip of the pool to capture your lips. Your hands immediately fly to cup his jaw as hoots and hollers surround the two of you as he irrevocably tells the world that you're his.

Alpha crew members take the kiss as their cue to jump in, splashing you with water as you laugh. Pierre doesn't give you a chance to protest, rising up and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in with him.

You squeal in his arms, shoving against his chest as you both laugh. "Pierre!" His name on your tongue does nothing to dampen the feel of your waterlogged body against his, nowhere near as chastising as he knew you'd tried to sound. He loves you more than ever at that moment, wants to live here on this Sunday forever, replaying the past twelve hours for the rest of his life.

Celebrations continue around him, but he has eyes only for you. He studies the way your nose scrunches up when Alana splashes you and how droplets of water catch on your eyelashes.

Reaching out, he tucks a wet lock of hair behind your ear, garnering your attention. You ruffle Pierre's hair and he knows that you're just as caught up as he is.

Placing a hand on the back of your neck, he draws you in for another long, drawn out kiss. “You’re my trophy.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

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[cuquitalocita]

i love you yeah yeah yeah |rowaelin month- day 3|

rowaelin masterlist 

an: i’m not gonna lie, i had so so much fun writing this one! i’m a tennis player and my sister is as well, therefore why i know so much about the junior pro league. for those of you who don’t know, the orange bowl is an actual tournament played internationally for juniors and i’m ranting wow so anyway i hope this isn’t too tennis vocab-y :)

word count: 3,876

~~

It’s the final two days before competition at the International Orange Bowl this year being held in Terrasen and it’s no surprise that tensions between players and academies are more than high. We’re so glad to be here for yet another year of thrilling competition in which the winners will automatically be placed into the first round of the U.S. Open. I, for one, and more than excited to see some new teen faces this year, what about you, Gavriel?

You know Cairn, I completely agree and as someone from Terrasen, you must be more than excited to see some friendly competition on your home turf.

Oh, I sure am excited, but I don’t know if you’d call this competition exactly ‘friendly.’ For those of you unaware, the rivalry between the TAT (Tennis Academy of Terrasen) and the DTC (Doranelle Tennis Center) has been going on for close to ten years now, beginning all the way back to when founders Maeve Vesta and Evalin Galathynius were in college, rivals through and through. Now adults, their children carry on their competitive legacy, taking the nation by storm. If you see the final match of any tournament, you can bet your money it’s a Doranelle kid and a Terrasen kid. 

The stakes sure are high during this tournament, as it isn’t closed, like the academies’ usual ones. Instead, anyone player eighteen years old and younger with the qualifying points was eligible to register. I’m looking forward to seeing some new faces this year. 

Me too, but you can never go wrong with the usual suspects. This year, my money is on eighteen year- old Rowan Whitethorn from Doranelle, ranked second in the country, in the men’s finals. As Maeve’s nephew, Rowan has been put in the spotlight for most of his life, not to mention taking a clear leadership role among the DTC alongside Lorcan Salvaterre. 

That’s a good point, Gavriel, in the past years Rowan has made it to at least the quarter-finals but has always lost before he can truly do. I have a feeling the kid has a lot more in him.  And as for the women, I wouldn’t be too surprised to see the Terrasen seventeen year- old cruising through a few rounds before her tough competition starts. We can’t expect anything less than Evalin Galathynius’ daughter, right?

I for one, am more than excited for pre- first-round interviews. It’s always quite interesting to see each players’ mindset before they set out for blood.

~~

“What do you think our favorite golden girl has in store for us this year, Gavriel? Something tells me she’s a little more than annoyed given what happened at the finals of the last international tournament held in Terassen when Remelle Frost from the Doranelle academy beat her in what was the biggest upset of the season.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and glared at the back of her mother’s seat, the woman in question frowning as the annoying voice of Cairn Rossa rang through the rental car. She reached forward to turn the station off just as Gavriel’s voice rang out once more.

“Let’s not beat around the bush here, Cairn,” the older man was responding. “I’ve been doing this just a bit longer than you enough to know when a player isn’t themselves. One loss isn’t the definition of a player the same way one win isn’t either. I suggest both teams- including Aelin and Remelle themselves- step onto the court, and play.” 

Aelin let out a satisfied huff. She knew she had always liked Gavriel. Aelin liked that the man looked at the players as more than just players in a video game or statistics on a screen. As a former player himself, Aelin knew the man understood the game in and out and was more than qualified to report during the national tournaments, no matter where he was born and what side he was essentially placed on. 

The station was snapped off as her mother’s finger found the correct button, earning an annoyed glare from the Uber driver next to her that she promptly ignored in favor of turning back to her daughter, opening her mouth to say something. Aelin’s own eyes stared back at her before shifting down to the phone she held in her hand. It had just buzzed signaling a new notification that had her mother lifting her brows. 

Aelin immediately shifted forward in an attempt to look over her mother’s should before her hand was on her face, batting her daughter away with a motherly ‘leave me alone’ look. She relented, leaning back into her seat with slumped shoulders. Finally, her mother huffed but remained with her back facing Aelin. 

She knew it was different this year, she could practically feel it in the air. Without her father with the two women in the car, the tournament atmosphere was a different universe. 

It was getting dark outside, the sun setting behind them as they drove through the dazzling city. The car came to an abrupt stop in front of the hotel that sent Aelin jerking out of her own thoughts. Her mother turned back to her with a sad knowing smile and patted her daughter’s knee.

“We’re here. Try to get some sleep- you have a long day tomorrow.”

~~

“What’s the plan for today?” Aelin asked her mother around a mouthful of bagel the next morning. It wasn’t every day the founder of the University came to watch her players in a tournament, but whoever won this won would be fed into the first round of an official professional tournament. It would be amazing PR for the academy, Aelin knew, but she also knew her mother felt bad that her father had escorted Aelin to all of her tournaments in prior years. And now that he wasn’t here anymore… 

“Eat up- after you’re done I’ve reserved three courts at the complex and we’ll get together with everyone.” ‘Everyone’ being every other players from the academy who had enough points to enter the qualifiers. Not all of them were as highly ranked as Aelin, but she found it helpful to train with them all the same. They were her friends. “We do need to pick Lysandra up from the airport first though,” she said as she frowned at her phone. “Her flight was supposed to have landed a few minutes ago but she hasn’t reached out…”

Aelin rolled her eyes at her mother, she always did have a thing with protectiveness over her best friend. 

“Mom, don’t worry about it,” Aelin assured her. “Aed said he would pick her up and then meet us at the courts. I wouldn’t want to be in that car if I were you.” She faked a gag, causing her mother to laugh. 

“Alright then. Eat, find your rackets, and take the rental to the courts. It was just delivered this morning. I have some business to finish here at the hotel.” She left Aelin with a kiss to the head. 

~~

It didn’t take long for Aelin to pull up to the familiar yet daunting tennis complex bigger than even the academy, and she pushed the car into park, simply staring for a moment. 

This was it. 

Three years she had come close to winning as the youngest person in history. So close. But this was the year. This was her year. She could do this. She would do this. 

And so Aelin Galathynius pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin as she grabbed her massive tennis bag from the trunk and slung it over her shoulders. The weight was heavy and familiar as she walked through the glass double doors and to the front desk, only to halt in her tracks when she came face to face with a familiar head of silver hair. 

Rowan Whitethorn.

She had quite often mused about how unfair it was that her essential biggest rival was so attractive. It didn’t really make hating him very fair, now did it? But there he stood, green eyes shining and teeth flashing as he snapped something at the young man at the desk. The poor boy looked ready to pee himself and Aelin couldn’t help but release a sharp laugh, causing both Rowan and the blonde next to him to whip around.

Aelin watched as Rowan’s eyes sparked and his mouth curved into a sneer as he took her in from head to toe. She forced herself still and kept her eyes on his face. It was all she could do. Rowan opened his mouth and Aelin prepared her hackles to rise instantly.

“Aelin. Good to see you here.” But it wasn’t Rowan who spoke. No, it was Remelle Frost, her least favorite bottle blonde on the planet that spoke as she curled a possessive hand over Rowan’s bicep. Aelin simply rolled her eyes, never one to beat around the bush. It was common knowledge that the blondes didn’t like each other. And after the Adarlan tournament, Aelin wouldn’t hide her disdain for the girl.

“Wish I could say the same,” she replied dismissively as she shouldered past Rowan and made for the front desk. One charming smile and the boy seemed to handle her much better than Rowan. She gave him her mother’s name, him quickly nodding a confirmation and giving her the court numbers, saying they would be available in just a moment.

She turned around, unsurprised to see Rowan glaring at the back of her head. It had been almost eight years of this rivalry. At least for them. Aelin thought it might’ve been a little ridiculous, considering that it started with her mother and his aunt, but the Doranelle kids just made it so easy to hate them. So easy to want to pound them on and off the court. She wouldn’t apologize for the adrenaline the rivalry provided her with.

Aelin smirked, cocking her hip. “Like what you see?”

“Hardly,” he growled. “Just wondering whether or not you actually came to play this time.” 

Aelin recognized the comment for what it was- a direct jab to the last tournament where she had lost to Remelle. If the comment hadn’t pissed her off so much she would’ve recognized the compliment for what it was. 

“Well, that depends which game you’re talking about, Whitethorn.” Her voice was just teasing enough to annoy him once more, and Aelin’s grin grew. 

“Don’t you have a court to go find?” Remelle cut in from beside Rowan, who had distanced himself from her. Aelin didn’t blame him. She wanted to do the same thing.

“And here I was enjoying our little chat. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, mar sin leat.”

“This isn’t Terrasen,” Remelle hissed. “We say ‘good luck’ here. Gods, you Terrasen kids are pieces of-” 

Someone caught her by the waist as Aelin attempted to throw herself at the girl and she was soon spun around in their arms, coming face to face with her own eyes. Aedion’s were flashing too as his eyes were fixed behind her, no doubt at Rowan. 

“Leave it, Ace, it’s not worth it.” 

“It’s true, princess,” Rowan finally spoke with a sneer. “You’re gonna need those pretty little hands tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to have an excuse when you get your ass kicked.”  

“Oh, I’ll show you-” 

Aedion dragged her away before she could get another word out, her fists clenched and her teeth bared. She shoved him when he put her down.

“Fucking Doranelle,” Aedion spat under his breath as he shook his head. 

He merely gestured to a figure behind her, causing Aelin to whip around with wide eyes. Shit. Duke Perrington grinned at her through the snake-eyed lens of his camera and gave her a tiny wave as she bared her teeth at him

Perfect. Now it would look like Terrasen had begun a fight before the tournament even began. 

Her mother was going to kill her. 

~~

Aelin felt like the stadium had never been bigger. She had known this year she would be playing where the professionals themselves did, including Maeve and her mother, but never in a million years had it looked so daunting or made her feel so small. 

The tournament had been, well needless to say, easy for Aelin so far. She had breezed through her first few matches, absolutely destroying the poor girls, and her third had been straight sets as well. But now it was the semis. And she would have to face Remelle on center court. It seemed the gods liked playing jokes on Aelin Galathynius. 

She could feel every pair of eyes snap to hers the moment she stepped onto the court but she looked forward. Maybe she was a crowd favorite- but that would do her no favors in the upcoming match. Aelin thought she was going to hurl all over her new shoes and she let the deafening cheering of the audience cover the sound of her pounding heart. 

Remelle walked in not long after she and Aelin met her in the middle of the court, racket in hand. Showtime. 

Aelin might have been paying attention when the coin had been flipped, might have been minimally involved when she called heads or when she won the call and opted to serve first. She might have been only slightly aware of her surroundings as she took a small sip of her water and walked to the back of the court. 

And then it was movement.

It was backward and forwards, side to side, low and high, and it was the same dance Aelin knew better than anything. The same feeling in her feet when she sprinted to the ball and the same stretch of muscles when she reached for a shot. This was who she was- this was the pattern she had lived for ten years. 

But it didn’t seem to matter, not as the score continued to tip less and less in her favor with every passing point. She was playing well- but Remelle was playing better. And there was nothing Aelin could do but survive and ignore the satisfied smirks the other girl would throw her during their side changes. 

Think, Aelin, think. 

Nothing was coming to her head. All she could hear was the pounding adrenaline through her body telling her to play. To cross each bridge when she came to it. There was nothing more she could do than play.

It was then, when Aelin threw herself at a particularly difficult ball, that she felt something shift. And she knew she was screwed. 

Aelin was a tennis player- she had rolled her ankle before. But this was different. It had never hurt this bad. And as the rest of her body came down with her ankle, she thought that it could be it. That it was the end of the match all due to a stupid ankle injury. 

With her heart in her throat, Aelin signaled to the red- headed umpire. 

Injury, she mouthed to her, and the woman- Ansel, it seemed her name was- simply nodded. She was in the massive locker room without a second thought, dragging out a spare bucket of ice held in one of the corners of the room and shoved her foot it. Might as well get it over with.

Aelin winced as the ice on her foot began to take effect and her muscles began to ache, her breathing beginning to lose its consistency. Gods, she hated this. She hated the useless feeling that came over her at the thought of possibly being unable to finish the match. At the thought of all the people, she would be letting down. 

She was tired. Aelin was so, so tired.

Gods, she just needed-

The door to the locker room burst open with a loud and abrupt clang, causing Aelin to jerk forward, spilling water on the ground as she opened her mouth. She was ready to tell them that she needed some privacy before her eyes locked onto a familiar figure that sent her heart pounding for a different reason. 

“Rowan, you can’t be in here!” 

The hulking boy ignored her protests, striding over her in no more than a few steps, both of his hands immediately going to the base of her neck to search her gaze with his own worried one, clearly not caring that he was in the girl’s locker room and would be kicked out of the tournament if he was found. 

“Are you alright?” he insisted, his voice low and hoarse, forest eyes intense.

The gentleness in which he touched her had Aelin sighing and her hands reached up to lightly take hold of his wrists, bringing them down and gathering them in her own hands to hold to her chest. 

She hadn’t meant to fall for Rowan Whitethorn.

But like everything in her life, it had happened quickly and unexpectedly, and Aelin had dealt with it head-on. It had been a year now. An entire year of playing tournaments in each other’s home’s just so they could see each other. Just so no suspicion was be aroused by the tabloids. 

And Aelin hated it. 

All she wanted to do was be able to link her hand through Rowan’s in public without causing a public scandal about a decade-long rivalry. 

“I’m okay, you fussy buzzard,” she teased as she looked at him, pleased to see when the frown on his lips twitched the slightest bit upward. “It was just a little fall. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

But because he knew her so well, he had heard the uncertainty and fear in her voice as she spoke. So saying nothing, he pulled Aelin to his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around her completely, enveloping her in the scent that she had considered home for months.

And as she breathed him in, she wished home wasn’t always so godsdamned far. 

Rowan let her breathe shakily into his chest, constantly running a soothing hand up and down her back as he hummed a small melody that he often did to get her to sleep over the phone at night. Aelin was the first person to admit it was much better in person.

“You don’t have to do it, Aelin,” he said finally, his movements never ceasing. “You don’t owe them anything.” 

She knew who he was referring to of course, of the people who had come to watch the new ‘upcoming star’ in action and were expecting to see quite the show. They were the people Aelin had been trained to want to impress. 

Aelin pulled back to tilt her chin up and look him in the eyes. 

“I can’t just quit, Rowan. I won’t.”

“You have nothing to prove, Fireheart.” And Aelin almost broke as he used the nickname her father had. “Not to anyone.” 

She shook her head, helplessness seeping through her body more and more as she looked at the boy in front of her. The pain in her ankle was even worse now. Unsurprisingly, he noticed, and his calloused hands moved to her wrists as he lead her back over to the bucket of ice water.

He kneeled down in front of the bench as she sat down and placed her foot in the water, wincing along with her even after she threw a glare at him.

I don’t see you with a foot in ice.

Seeing you in pain is enough to hurt me, his eyes gazed back playfully. Aelin rolled her eyes, quickly shutting them as another shock of pain rushed through her body, making her inhale sharply. 

Her boyfriend frowned once more, clearly upset he could do nothing to help her. So he gathered her hands in his own, bringing them to his face to place a gentle kiss on them, pulling an unwitting smile from Aelin. 

“I love you,” she said quietly. Rowan met her soft gaze for a moment before Aelin leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers in a kiss she hoped said everything she couldn’t. Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. I wish we weren’t a secret. 

“I love you too, Fireheart.” 

She would never get sick of hearing him say that. Of hearing the utter truth in his words. 

Rowan was watching her with that adoring look he reserved only for her, his face open so she could see every emotion playing across his face. It only made her want to kiss him again.

So she did, although this time he met her halfway, taking her chin lightly between two fingers and tilting it up so he could kiss her thoroughly as her hands rested at the base of his neck, lightly twirling the pieces of soft hair she found there.

They sat there for a while, simply kissing, enjoying the feeling of each other’s lips and proximity when it was so few and far between, and Aelin relished in the feeling of loving someone who loved her back. In the feeling of not having to act. 

When she accidentally tugged at a knot in his hair, Rowan pulled away with a painful groan and a nip to her bottom lip, causing Aelin to laugh and push his cheek away with two fingers.

“Sorry, Buzzard,” she laughed as Rowan stood up, with a playful glare. He folded his arms in front of him and it was only then that Aelin remembered she had a foot inside of a bucket of ice. And her medical time out was running out. “Shit. I have to go.” 

Aelin jumped into action, taking her foot out of the ice with a hiss and grabbing a towel as Rowan maneuvered himself around her to find her shoes and socks. Apparently he had understood her message loud and clear about her intentions on forfeiting the match or not- he wasn’t stupid enough to argue with her.

Quickly enough, Aelin was good as new- well, as new as she could be with a half swollen ankle.

“Well,” she dropped her arms to her sides and turned to her boyfriend. “How do I look?”

“Like an idiot who shouldn’t be playing.”

“Or…?” she arched a brow. Rowan sighed and stepped toward her, his hands bracing both of her arms as he leaned forward to press an earnest kiss to her forehead. 

“Or Terrasen’s champion,” he murmured against her skin. 

Aelin grinned, a wicked and feral smile that meant she was ready to raise hell.

“Now that’s more like it.” 

~~

If someone had asked Aelin to regale the crowd with details of her match after she had come out victorious, she would have been unable to do so. Because all she remembered was the pounding of her feet on the ground, and the neon color of the tennis ball, and the feeling of her heart palpitating in her chest. 

Oh, and of course she couldn’t forget the moment after her match- winning shot, when every care and inhibition had left her in one foul swoop. When she had sprinted over to the stands and thrown herself into the arms of the silver- haired enemy, delighting in his deep laughter.. 

And kissed him in the middle of the stadium for all to see.

~~

this prompt was: secret dating 

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

[beyblaiddyd]

Title: Control

Characters: Ji-Woon Hak, Yun-Jin Lee

Rating: General

Notes: The Trickster makes a mistake during a performance and has a very normal, mentally healthy response to it. Words: 1996

Waking with a head full of rocks, Ji-Woon tries to keep his eyes shut stubbornly against consciousness for just a little longer. His dreams were raucous, more vivid than usual because of the alcohol in his blood. His mouth still tastes like sour plum. 

When he finally, mournfully, lets himself wake up, it’s with a sense of sluggish panic. He feels around blindly in sweaty sheets and finds his phone, half-charged, pinned beneath his back. The phone screen comes on and fills the darkened room with artificial light, making his eyes feel like paperweights pressing into his brain. 

Ji-Woon flicks open Twitter and sees: 

Usually this would fill him with some sense of joy, accomplishment. Today… 

He clicks on the trend and there it is. Right at the top. Press play on the video. 

His angelic voice comes from his muffled headphones. Shit. Where are they? He sits up and searches frantically, finding them buried beneath his pillow. Digs them out. Fumbles and shoves them in his ears just in time to listen. 

Right there, at the crescendo of the song. His voice falters. Breaks. 

He pauses the video and takes a shaky breath. Drags the progress bar back to the start and plays it again. As if rewatching will prevent it from happening, his will enough to undo mistakes across time. 

He was tired. Too tired. The night before was late. Writing music for the new album, staying up in the sound booth with Yun-Jin slumped over the soundboard as she worked on mixing the tracks for the current project. Then he was up before five for rehearsal, then caught a plane. Check into the hotel, talk to the reporters, fans. Live broadcast from his phone. Everyone wants to see the smiling star on camera! Outfit, hair, makeup. Go over the details again and again and again. He didn’t even have a second to close his eyes. Energy drinks slammed back to back got him through it all. Sugar free, of course. Sugar is bad for a singer’s throat.

It’s hard to pin one specific element. Just exhaustion? Talking too much? 

He winces as he hears it again. An inexcusable mistake. His face doesn’t flinch, the performance continues without pause, but he can still see it in his own eyes. That brief flicker of panic. The all-consuming urge to run off stage. 

In the video, someone in the crowd laughs. 

Ji-Woon throws his phone down on his bed and flips over, grabbing his pillow and shoving his face into it, screaming. It doesn’t stop the sound in his ears as the song continues. 

After the show, there were questions about it. Not to him. Never to him. His PR manager responded with carefully chosen words. He is always working so hard for his fans! Even the Trickster gets tired sometimes. He’ll be back in form at his next performance. 

As if he did something bad. As if he disappointed them. Disappointed his fans. As if he needs to make it up to them by being better, more. As if any of this is for them. 

He sits facedown on the bed for a while longer, just breathing into the pillow, before the replaying audio starts to make him sick. He sits up and grabs his phone. Checks the replies. 

It’s a bit cute to hear the Trickster make a mistake like this. This was my first time seeing Trickster live and I’m a little disappointed, does he mess up like that often? I think he was getting emotional and his voice broke because he was trying not to cry. I’ve thought he was a sloppy vocalist since I heard his debut track. You guys shouldn’t be so rude, it’s clear that they’re overworking him, have you ever considered how busy his schedule is with all the content he makes for us? So you’re telling me he’s not a singing robot? I wish I could make his voice break like that. He only sounded a little worse than he already does. If I was him, I’d be so embarrassed. We have to send Ji-Woon good vibes so that he’ll feel better soon! 

As he rewatches the video again, he feels the eyes of the audience on him. Hungry. Consuming. He trips once and they dive on him like vultures, taking the bits they want. 

Ji-Woon became a celebrity because - 

Ji-Woon became a celebrity for - 

It was about control. 

As a young child, he couldn’t stand the thought of people watching him. Looking at him, making judgements. Trying to measure up. Life felt like a battle to do everything right. To be the right kind of person, to make the right impressions. His father cared a lot. About image. About going up in the world. About talent. Ji-Woon couldn’t stand the thought of sharing himself with others in that way, of them seeing him and hearing him and knowing him. 

Until he learned about the security of performance. 

The invisible, protective cloak of a mask. 

When you performed, you didn’t have to show anyone anything genuine. They couldn’t judge you, the real you. If you acted, then you controlled. You got to pick and choose what the audience saw. How they interpreted you. They would dance in your palm to the beats you played for them. It was an escape for him, a way to exist in the world without the stress that plagued him. 

Watching this, he feels the grip on control slipping out through his fingers. 

A crack formed. They saw inside. He can’t control how they’re seeing him now.

That was private. That was for himself. 

He feels his jaw tremble from how hard he’s clenching his teeth and forces himself to relax - Wait, no he doesn’t. He’s grabbing his pillow to cover his face again, twisting and writhing in his bed in a form of anxious agony he had gotten down to only experiencing a few times a year. 

Breathe. 

Ji-Woon stands up and starts to pace around the room. If he had any more plum wine, he would chug it. No luck. 

Music. He needs it. He sits on the floor beside his bed and curls up as he searches for a playlist. Something angry, metal, harsh noises crashing against one another. 

Then he starts to scroll again. He devours every comment, reads a dozen think pieces, performance reviews, memes, idol imagines, watches clips of the concert from every angle. The harsh strings of the tracks grind against his mind and make every passing comment build like a static charge. 

Ding. 

A text from Yun-Jin. 

You’re late. 

He turns off his phone and shoves it in a bedside drawer, climbing back into bed. 

He pulls the blankets tight around himself and closes his eyes, pretending to still be asleep. 

Sure enough, after a few minutes, a knock comes at the door. 

Then a more insistent one. 

“Are you still asleep?” Yun-Jin demands from outside. He curls up more and refuses to answer. 

He hears a muffled cursing from outside the door, then the knob jiggling. After a few moments, the lock clicks. Did she just break in? 

Everyone is always pushing his boundaries. He lets them because to most people, all he is is a show.  To get what he wants, to live how he wants, he has to be an object. Yun-Jin is the only person who has ever sat on the cusp between treating him like a thing and knowing the real him. He thinks he lets her because she understands - more than anyone else, at least - where he came from. They’re the same. 

That’s why he feels comfortable snapping from his bed, 

“I didn’t say you could come in.” 

“So you were ignoring me,” Yun-Jin replies, just as sour. She begins to pick around the room, grabbing the multiple bottles strewn about. “How much did you drink last night?” 

As if she can judge. He knows her. He knows she spent the entire night at the hotel bar, drinking the bartender’s favorite and working away on her laptop. She pretends that all of this doesn’t get to her the same way he pretends. Both of them are fakes. 

“Or just ignore me again,” Yun-Jin sighs, setting the bottles down. 

“You have the bottles there. You can count them,” he says, pulling up the blanket over his head. 

“...This is because of the performance last night, right?” She guesses, sitting on the bed. Ji-Woon doesn’t answer. 

She reaches over and pulls the blanket off of him. He grabs it and pulls it back. 

“We don’t have time for your histrionics. We have work to do.” 

“I don’t want to.” This isn’t histrionics. The exact opposite, actually. He doesn’t want anyone to look at him ever again. 

“You have to get over it. Mistakes happen.” 

“Not to me,” he says, miserably. 

Yun-Jin rubs her face. 

“Have you never messed up in a performance before?” 

“Never,” he confirms. She must know that. He’s never made a mistake as long as she’s known him, at least. A flawless audition, all the hours spent rehearsing. A schedule wound so tight around the concept of perfecting everything that he rarely sleeps. He doesn’t want to be flawed in the public eye. He wants to be a star, untouchable. 

“It happens,” she says. “It will happen again. You can’t drink yourself into a stupor any time it does.” 

Another round of silence passes between them. Ji-Woon finally breaks it by complaining. 

“The rest of the performance was amazing. But it’s all they’re talking about.” 

“That’s what audiences do,” Yun-Jin says. “They feel entitled to you. When an artist makes a mistake, it helps them feel… involved.” She rolls her eyes. “They can comment on it as if they know more than they really do. Be critical as if they have any knowledge of the industry, or be kind and feel good knowing they were part of making you feel better.” 

She sounds disgusted with the concept. It must churn her stomach as much as it churns his. 

“They want to be part of the music,” Ji-Woon speculates. 

“Exactly,” Yun-Jin says. “It’s annoying, but they’re also the ones who help us keep our careers. So you should just pretend to be grateful even if you don’t feel like they deserve it. Go out and say thanks for the support and move on.” 

“...I don’t want to get on stage and make a mistake again.” 

“You can’t control everything. You’re going to have to do it.” 

“What if I won’t?” “I’ll drop you.”

Ji-Woon laughs. 

“What? I don’t need a singer who won’t perform.” 

Ji-Woon keeps laughing. Yun-Jin smiles. 

“You’re the only one in this industry who’s honest,” he tells her. 

“I have to be. Someone filled your head with fantasies and I’m stuck putting up with it.” 

Maybe it is a fantasy, to imagine he could keep the two halves of himself so separate. But he already has so little for himself. He wanted to think he could. Does he have to diminish the real him entirely, devour it all into the hungry performance? 

All because everyone wants to pretend they know him. Do they think they’re his friends? That he even cares about them? 

But he does care about them, doesn’t he? Not in the traditional sense, the personal sense. But he does care what they think. He wants them to know he’s talented. He wants to share his passions without fear. 

It’s all too much. His mind is starting to spill over itself again. 

“Come on. Get up,” Yun-Jin finally demands, grabbing his arm. “If you’re still upset about it, just turn the feeling into a song. And stay off of social media after shows. I keep telling you.” 

Ji-Woon sighs, reluctantly climbing out of bed. 

That’s fine. She’s right. Music is what soothes him more than anything. It’s how he shares himself without sharing himself. Maybe he can package this frustration for sale, too. 

[yniswaifu]

1. Aran

The match between black jackals and schweiden adlers was about to start. You see the two teams, a cluster of black and white jerseys on the opposites, and play with the ID card hanging around your neck. The stadium was starting to fill out, but it's okay. You were near the vip section since you weren't there as a spectator, rather working for one of the sponsors. Being in the public relations department sure helped in getting the best spots, as you could see the entire court from where you stood. Also, there were lesser people around, something you were grateful for.

The announcers began their announcement, and Hinata's name came up in the beginning. He was doing his debut with this game, and you smiled to yourself. He deserved to be in such a great team. Your eyes then sweep from player to player in both the teams, before landing on ushijima.

Hot dang.

Not gonna lie, he was attractive. His tall figure flexed when he did warm ups, making the jersey tightened around the biceps. You blinked, eyes zeroing on them. Yep, they fine.

But that wasn't why you were his fan. At least that's what you always tell yourself that you totally liked him for his skills. Unfortunately, the truth couldn't be hidden from the voice beside you as it suddenly stated, "not gonna lie, he got a good physique."

The tone was a playful one, but it still didn't make you any less embarrassed. Specially when it came from an equally attractive man who is also selected to lead the Japan's volleyball team in the olympics.

"m-mr Aran." you stutter in his presence. He had shades on, maybe trying to escape the paparazzi's eyes and his face was neutral.

Why is he talking to you? AND WHY DID HE HAVE TO CATCH YOU OGLING OVER MUSCLES.

Aran smiled at you, feeling a bit flustered himself. He isn't the teasing type, and he would definitely not tease someone he met for the first time.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you." he says, palms up in surrender.

You laugh nervously, turning back to the match. The first whistle blows, and the game begins.

"are you supporting the adlers?" he asks after minutes of silence.

You shake your head, focused on the game. "no. I'm with msby."

Aran's eyebrows furrow in amusement. He wanted to ask you something, and you knew what. It would seem like you're supporting the adlers because of ushijima, but in fact you weren't.

So before he could ask you further, you decided to clear the misconception. "sure, I like ushijima. He's a great player. But I've worked for the other team, and I know how much they rock. Moreover it's Hinata's first game with them. They have to win."

Again, Aran is a little surprised. You seemed into the match, your body moving on reflex with the flow of the game. Your little whispers of encouragement for the black clad team was...cute.

Then he notices the card hanging around your neck. It was only for the official members, like volunteers or sponsors. So he wondered which part did you belong to. Moreover the place where you both stood – wasn't allowed to the public. It was for players and the management team.

"are you a volunteer?" Aran took up the courage to ask you.

You glanced at him, before smiling. "no. I'm part of the PR team for one of the sponsors of the tournament. So I have a pass to be here."

He nods at your words, and a sudden roar around the stadium takes both his and your attention to the super spike ushijima just pulled.

"your crush scored against the team you're rooting for. How do you feel?" he asks you, smirking at the flustered expression on your face.

You laugh a little, shaking your head. "he's not my crush. He's just a player I really admire."

"right...that's why you were giving him googly eyes."

You grow stiff at the words. First of all, you seriously felt anxious standing near Aran. He was not only a great player, but he's also very handsome and he doesn't have any reason to talk to you. Not that you minded, since you are used to interacting with popular players. But none of them have ever used such a...teasing tone with you before.

And here he is, trying to be friendly with a no one like you (at least that's what you think).

"you know." you suddenly say, your nervousness diminishing a little. "I was an intern in the MSBY black jackals PR team."

Why did you say that? You wish you had the answer. Best guess is you don't want another word about ushijima and his muscles out of this man's mouth. And how you were staring at them.

"oh? So that's why you're supporting them." Aran chimes in a thoughtful manner, eyes on the game. Atsumu had just served sakusa, and a sense of pride filled his chest looking at his junior.

"yeah. That's part of it. Another part is because they are amazing at what they do. I've seen it first hand. Not that adlers are bad or anything..." you finish in a mumble. You certainly didn't want to seem biased.

Aran gave out a laugh at your words, highly amused by now. You were awkward and nervous, that much was obvious, but it was funny to see you masking it. He didn't know why he came to stand beside you, he just saw a lone figure who probably didn't look like they cared for what's around them, and decided to stand there when he saw your zoned out expression. It looked funny. Following your line of vision, he sees ushijima warming up. You must have thought no one was around so you didn't bother hiding your expression, and Aran caught you. And he doesn't regret it one bit.

"you were an intern. Which means you didn't have a lot of interaction with the boys huh?" he asks.

"no, not really. I did talk to them a couple of times, when we had to promote the players. The most I've worked with is hinata, as he was new. So I'm familiar with him more than the others."

"cool. You know Atsumu? He was my teammate in school as well." he states, smirking.

You give him a tight smile. "yeah I know. Everyone knows."

Aran's smile drops. Right. Atsumu was popular. Who also had a Wikipedia page for himself. So did Aran. Of course people will know.

Clearing his throat, he doesn't say anything, but stares at you. You had a very simple aura about you. And he kinda dig that. You looked at the players taking a break before the second half of the game, which your team was leading, by the way. The only reason Aran had come was because Atsumu insisted he does. And because Osamu had his stall perched outside the stadium – something he had to check out. Seeing the twins grow up made him feel like a mother watching her children grow up.

Aran suddenly had the urge to ask for your number. But he wasn't sure. You didn't seem the type to share contacts just because the other person is popular or attractive. Moreover he had been getting this feeling that you didn't want to talk to him. And even if not a lot of words were shared between you two – he quite enjoyed this conversation. Too bad you didn't feel the same. According to him.

But oh whatever. You won't know unless you try eh? YOLO.

That's what Aran thought when he decided to ask you. "what's your name? I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier."

You turn to him, eyes widening. Did the Aran ojiro ask your freaking name?

Butterflies, calm down. It's not the time.

"y/n." you say, trying to be as calm as possible.

"y/n." he repeats, your name rolling off like Hershey chocolate syrup from his tongue. Wait what?

"it's a pretty name." he smiles.

It took everything in you to not jump in excitement. Is Aran flirting with you? You don't know whether you should panic or fangirl. It's almost like, fight or flight.

"thanks." you reply, tucking your hair behind the ear. Aran is still smiling, his eyes creasing into crescent moons.

Silence. Awkward silence.

You don't know what else to say. No one prepared you for this type of situation. And the same could be said for the man in front of you. No one told him he is meeting a potential soulmate today.

Breaking the tension first, you check your watch and tell Aran, "uh, I gotta go. The match is coming to an end, and I have to get ready for the press conference."

Aran almost, almost frowns in disappointment. "don't you want to see who wins?" truthfully, he didn't want you to go just yet.

At that you couldn't help but giggle. Are you sure it's the same guy who is the ace for his team and who is going to lead Japan's team?

"mr Aran, I'll know anyway. It's going to be announced throughout the stadium. And in the conference." you say, turning to the score board. "moreover, msby is leading. They are gonna win this." you finish, determination in your voice.

With the conviction you said those words, Aran wished he could get them for himself personally. He wished you could only cheer for him. Because if you did, there's no way he'd even think of losing.

"right. My bad. See you around?" he says, hoping for a positive response.

You thought about it for a moment. Is this right? You are no fool, you completely understand what's going on here. The question is, why.

Aran seemed to notice your hesitation. "it's okay, if you don't want to. No pressure." he says, giving you a smile that didn't really look like a smile.

Way to go y/n, you heartbreaker.

You suddenly had an idea. Quickly taking out your phone, you opened your instagram and shot a text to Aran. "that should do..." you whisper.

Aran looks at you confused. What were you doing?

Smiling, you wave him a goodbye and run off towards the direction of a group of media people.

What just happened?

Aran blinks at your retreating figure when his phone buzzes. It was Osamu. He smiles, and then his eyes go towards the notification. Someone had texted him on instagram. And that someone was you.

"hey. Let's talk!"

He stares at your text for a good minute before bursting out laughing. A couple of people looked at him laughing at something on his phone, but he didn't care. The text gave such a dorky vibe he couldn't help it.

He sent you a laughing emoji, and shoved his phone back into his pocket before walking away, the smile not leaving his face.

Maybe he did meet his soulmate already.

***

It has been exactly four months since you and Aran started talking on Instagram. Yet, Aran hasn't asked for your number. He just didn't get the courage to. He is almost convinced it was love at first sight with you, because since the day he saw you and spoke to you, till now, when he's laughing at the memes you had spammed him with, his head hasn't been felt this light. Even Atsumu had commented during their practice for the olympics, that he was seeing sparkles around him. Of course, that got the setter a smack on the head, but Aran knew it was because of you.

What was he supposed to do. He was falling for you, and he was falling hard.

Looking at the conversation y'all shared one last time, Aran decide enough is enough. He was going to ask for your number.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitation settling faster than it can be allowed. But will you give him your number? Talking on social media is different, and talking through your personal number is different. It was more...intimate.

Sighing, he throws his phone on the bed, taking his head in his hands. The game was in a few days, and he had to do something about you because you're all he's thinking about.

Suddenly his phone rings and he looks at the caller. Aran has never looked so done than he's doing now.

"what is it?" he answers the call.

"is this how you greet your favourite twin?" Atsumu replies from the other side in mock offended tone.

"I'm not coming to the bar, if that's the reason why you called."

"h-how did you know?" Atsumu asks, almost yelling in the phone.

"because that's like, the only reason you'd call me at this time?"

"..."

"fair enough" the blonde states after a minute of silence.

Just then Aran had a thought. It wouldn't hurt to ask right?

"remember a couple of months back, say, earlier this year, someone had interned for your team." Aran says.

"hmm? A lot of people interned Aran san, who are you talking about?" Atsumu asks, confused.

Aran gave him your name, running down a brief description of how you look, and added the fact that you had spoken to hinata because he was new as well.

"hmm...y/n...I think I remember her." Atsumu says.

Aran's eyes lit up. "so d–"

"are you interested in her?" came the question from the other line.

Shit.

Regret fills Aran not a second after that question. He never considered the fact that he was asking the last person he should ask, specially for a girl's number. This ain't gonna end well.

"...yeah." he answers, a defeated sigh escaping his lips.

Another minute of silence. Cue the dramatic reaction in 3...2...

"ARAN SAN DID YOU FINALLY MEET THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE!?"

It was so loud that Atsumu's voice echoed even when Aran had literally walked away from the phone after setting it down on the bedside table. Why isn't he surprised?

There were some more loud incoherent response, that he didn't bother listening to. He ultimately picked up the phone when a series of 'hellos' flooded through the phone.

"yeah, I'm here." he says, cutting the question off.

"gosh, seriously? How? Why? When? WHAT!?" Atsumu asks, flooding the call with questions again.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aran narrates the incident briefly. Atsumu screams again.

"I can't believe you found a girl for yourself! That too someone I know!"

Aran smiles as your picture comes to his mind. "yeah. I can't believe it myself."

"so when are you asking her out?"

The smile dropped. "I don't have her number." he mumbled.

"say what?"

"I...don't have her number. I was meaning to ask you if you have it or not." he says, this time more clearly.

"you...why don't you have her number again?" Atsumu asks, perplexed.

"because I felt she'd stop talking to me. She isn't exactly the most open person around."

"hmm. That's kinda true, I'll admit." the Miya says, "even when she was an intern here, she mostly stuck to herself and her work. But she was friendly."

Aran nods to no one in particular. "so? Do you have it?"

"I gotta check. Like you said, she was closer to hinata. If I don't have it then he might have it." Atsumu says before continuing. "wait a minute. What do I get from this?"

Aran's eyebrow raises in confusion. "an awesome sister-in-law?" he states like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Atsumu laughs. "very nice. But I'm serious."

"I'm serious too." Aran says in heartbeat. Did Atsumu think he wasn't serious about you? Rude.

"woah. Okay. But if I get the number, you gotta come to the bar with me." the voice from the other side says.

"cool."

He could at least do this if he gets your number right?

Atsumu cuts the call with a cheer. A few minutes in, Aran's phone pings, and there it was – your number.

I didn't have it. Got it from shoyo. Atsumu wrote.

Thanks man.

You better be there. I'll be waiting.

A'ight.

Feeling giddy, Aran saves the number and sends out a silent prayer that you haven't changed the number.

hey. Is this y/n? Aran texts you, legs bouncing as he sits on his bed.

A second later. who is this?

Aran

Suddenly the phone rings. Panic sets in Aran. He didn't expect you to call.

Picking up the phone, he kept silent, waiting for you to speak.

"how did you get my number?" was the first thing you said.

"I asked Atsumu. Who asked Hinata."

You made a noise, kinda like in disbelief. Then you start laughing. "why didn't you ask me?"

Aran looked guilty. "I...didn't think you would give me your number."

"ah..." you trail off. You couldn't deny it. You were a skeptical person. "I didn't think Hinata would still have my number though..."

"maybe he still thinks you're his friend."

Friend? Sure, Hinata was a friendly person. But being 'friends' with the staff wasn't exactly ideal for players.

"maybe." you say softly.

"ah, I wanted to ask you something." Aran says, after a minute of silence.

Your heart picks up. Was he going to drop the L-bomb? You couldn't deny the affection brewing in you, specially after talking to him for a couple of months now, and knowing how sweet he is.

"w-what did you want to ask?" you ask, stuttering a little.

"will you be there on the day of the game?"

You had the urge to roll your eyes and pass a snarky comment. If there was something that amused you like heck, it was this habit of Aran where he would ask the most obvious questions. Like meeting a someone in the movie theater and asking "whatchu doing here?"

"yes. We are one of the sponsors." you answer, moving aside the urge. This sweet man doesn't deserve that sass.

"oh great. So...will you meet me before the game? I gotta tell you something."

Your eyes widen. Millions questions run in your mind and all point to one direction – something that you don't want to believe is true.

"okay." you answer, your voice coming out a little strained.

"really? Cool! I'll see you then. Goodnight." Aran beams before cutting the call.

You blink at the black screen of your phone. Did he really call you for this? Men are so confusing.

***

Aran was nervous. The room was brimming with men dressed in the red team uniform, and his eyes was floating between the teammates. It lingered a longer on ushijima, and he mind went back to the time when you had commented on ushijima's birthday post with lots of hearts. The jealousy he felt, sheesh.

Then he turns to sakusa. According to you, he was the only one you never spoke to even once. He mostly kept to himself, but every fellow intern with you swooned over the mysterious man. He had grimaced at that. Did y/n too swooned? Guess we'll never know.

Finally, his eyes land on Atsumu who was talking to bokuto. He was the only one who knew about you, and Aran worried that he will open his big mouth, but the blonde proved to be more faithful than that. But it still didn't stop him from hammering Aran with questions about you.

Aran's eyes flickered to his phone every other minute, waiting for the text from you, saying you were here. You had told him you'll text him, so he was waiting for the go.

"you have been staring at the phone since forever." a chirpy voice brings him out of the daydream.

He turns to see Hinata, smiling up at him. "are you waiting for something?"

Before Aran could answer, his phone pings and the screen turns on, displaying your name (that had multiple hearts beside it) and the text saying you were waiting for him outside in the corridor.

Both he and Hinata stared at the phone, at your text. Suddenly the tangerine goes, "is y/n your girlfriend Aran san!?"

And boy, was he loud.

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to their flustered looking captain, who just stood there speechless. Atsumu, who was mirroring Aran, jumped to defend him.

"h-hey now. Let's leave him alone. I'm sure it's nothing–"

"ah, I see y/n standing there though. Hi y/n!"

Atsumu turns to see bokuto and Hinata at the entrance, waving at someone. Too late.

Slowly everyone poured out of the room, looking at the one who apparently stole their leader's heart.

You.

And you? Yeah, you are definitely representing a new born calf with your shaky legs. No matter how many people you have met through your job – a group of hunks, who are also national players mind you, and at least a head taller than you, staring at you like you're some sort of star, doesn't help.

It looked like a herd of huskies looking at a small mouse.

You wanted to run away.

Hinata walks up to you, clapping your shoulder lightly. "long time no see y/n!" he greets you, smile wide.

You give him a nervous smile. "hey shoyo kun..."

"so you're dating Aran san?" bokuto pipes in from behind Hinata.

Your eyes almost pop out of your sockets? What in the world...

"no I'm not." you say, firmly but politely.

His eyebrows scrunched in a frown. "then why did he have hearts beside your name?" he murmurs to himself.

You didn't quite catch that. So you ask, "pardon?"

"nothing. It's nothing." you finally hear the voice of the person because of who you came all the way here. And even put in a little effort with the makeup.

Aran walks up to you three with long strides, his expression almost panicky. He stands beside you and sighs. "guys. Please. Let her breathe."

Both hinata and bokuto look at each other before exchanging a knowing smirk and step back a few steps. Something you were grateful for. It was getting too much.

Aran smiled at you softly before introducing you to everyone. A series of 'hi' and 'hello' circled around in response. Hinata, bokuto and Atsumu knew who you were already. Atsumu even went beyond and did a dramatic bow before taking your hands in his and tried to place a kiss but Aran's loud clearing of throat and your panicked face stopped him.

But nothing prepared you for ushijima's turn. He just stood in front of you, his eyes unblinking and his face without expression. You almost mistook him for an android, when he gives you a small smile. "hello."

It was a polite smile, something people do out of curtsy but that didn't stop you from internally squealing because OH MY GOODNESS USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI JUST SMILED AT ME.

Aran saw how your palms were in a fist. You were trying not to fangirl, he noticed. It made him a little sad to be honest. If only he would get the same reaction from you.

"hello." you say, trying to focus. "all the best for the game. All of you."

Everyone thanked you before they all went inside the room, leaving you alone with Aran. They could see how eager he was to be with you in some privacy.

Aran turns to you and smiles again, but that quite didn't reach his eyes. You frowned at that.

"are you nervous for the game?" you ask him.

Aran shakes his head. "a little. But I know we'll be fine."

"then what's got you looking so forlorn?"

Aran chuckles at your choice of words. He knew you liked reading classics, and that's where you got most of your vocabulary from. "it's nothing. I'm happy to see you. Sorry for the chaos in the beginning." he points towards the door.

You smile. "it's okay. I was a little surprised when I saw bokuto san and shoyo."

"yeah..."

Aran looked distracted. His hands were clasped together and he looked everywhere but you. You tilted your head, wondering what's gotten into him.

"mr Aran, are you okay?" you ask, your voice carrying concern, something that felt like music to the man in front of you.

He stares at you. You squirm a little under the intense gaze, and as much as you wanted to stare back and get lost in those eyes, you had to be sure this is going towards where you think it's going.

Suddenly Aran steps closer, his chest hitting your chin. You look up at him and before you could understand what's happening, he cups your hands in his large hands and place a deep, but soft kiss on your lips.

At that moment, your first instinct was to check whether there were other people in the area.

His lips were soft. You always thought they were. They looked so soft that you had asked him what he used for his lips and actually went and bought the same chapstick. They were also thick, something you were a little envious of.

But oh well, those same luscious lips are smooching the heck outta you.

You grabbed his forearms that held your face delicately. Aran parted his lips more, and you bit on his bottom lip, earning a soft groan from him.

As for Aran, yeah. You can say he was ready to drop on one knee and ask your hand for marriage. He was THAT crazy about you. And the kiss just took the cherry on the cake.

Aran parted from you, both of your eyes in a daze, before he snapped back to reality. His eyes widened at your hooded eyes and parted lips. He tried to remove his hands from you but your grip on him stopped him.

"you really need to check your surrounding before doing something like that." you state moments later. Your eyes looked more clear now, and you were staring at him with some unknown emotion.

Aran gulped and looked around, finding the place empty except for the two of you.

"I'm so sor–"

"sorry doesn't cut it." you cut him off. You weren't even smiling. Are you mad at him?

Aran doesn't know why he suddenly kissed you. He just wanted to. You looked beautiful. You are beautiful. And Aran wanted to kiss you.

Suddenly your face breaks into a small smile. "I don't need your apology. I want you to ask me out so I can say yes."

He just looks at you, stunned. So...his feelings are reciprocated?

Aran wanted nothing more than to just hug you and jump around in joy. Even shout out his love for you. But if he did that it will cause trouble. So he's gonna reserve that for when the two of you are alone.

Placing his forehead on yours, he asks in a whisper. "will you be mine y/n? I'll treat you like a queen."

"only if you get me a selfie with ushijima and his autograph."

Aran laughs, his head too high in the clouds to even feel jealous. He knows you don't mean it. He knows you are his. And he is yours.

"but it's you I'll be cheering the most for. Get em' captain." you finish the sentence.

Aran nods, your foreheads still against each other. He wanted to cry. But no, not yet. He's going to win this game for you. And hug you in front of everyone. And then cry in your arms. And then–

"you should go inside. It's almost time." your voice snaps him back from the fantasy.

He looks at you, now standing a little apart from him. Your hands were beside you, and you were giving him the googly eyes now.

Taking your hands in his, he kisses your knuckles. "I love you." he says, and walks off, leaving you a hot mess.

Well, this is interesting, you think, smiling in anticipation for what's to come.

Best boy Aran deserves a good scenario too. And I hope it lives up to his expectations. 😬

I got three more scenarios coming up for my three favourite boys – Osamu, Suna, and husband Kita. I'm not sure when I'll update it but it's coming soon. Stay tuned.

[riddlecrux]

The quiet power of emotions - a study of Azriel's feelings (part one)

I would love to preface this meta with my favorite disclaimer that everything I will discuss is based on what I have gathered from SJM writing. The quotes used in this post will serve as a starting point for further analysis. Additionally, I will use symbolism, metaphors, and literary device methods to build up my reasoning and beliefs. On another note, this, as usual, is strictly pro-Elriel meta. If they are not your cup of tea and you wish to comment, please be civil and bring arguments supported by the text.

I've wanted to study Azriel’s behavior in ACOFAS, since it's an official novella and it was translated and published in many countries. Since it has come to my attention that some people say that without Azriel's POV, Elriel wouldn't have anything to be based on (which is totally wrong) I decided to tackle Azriel's behavior and show how he had exhibited his feelings for Elain even before ACOSF came out. The scene I would like to start with this series (meta series if I may call it that way) is the one where Rhys and Azriel talk about Illyria, Jurian, and Vassa. Rhys constantly observes Azriel, and he decides to drop this.

“Send Lucien, then. As our human emissary.” I studied the tenseness in Azriel’s shoulders, the shadows veiling half of him from the sunlight. “Lucien is away right now.”

We can see that Azriel is uncomfortable. He's tense and he even shields himself from Rhys' prying gaze. It's all because Lucien was mentioned - which is a bit telling at this point.

Az’s brows rose. “Where?” I winked at him. “You’re my spymaster. Shouldn’t you know?”

Rhys is kind of testing the waters as well, you can say he's railing up Azriel to bring some reaction. However, the question is why would he? What is the reason behind this behavior? It came out of nowhere in the novella, so it's even more surprising to us to reflect upon it, taking into account what transpired in the bonus POV in ACOSF.

Az crossed his arms, face as elegant and cold as the legendary dagger at his side. “I don’t make a point of looking after his movements.” “Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I highlighted Azriel's body language because it's very important. Here we have the notion of crossing arms, which can mean that someone is anxious, resistant, tense, insecure, afraid, or defensive. As we can pinpoint some of these emotions are present in this particular scene - Azriel definitely shields himself up, not only by physically crossing arms but also in the indignation of his expressionless face. The fascinating thing is the addition of the comparison between Azriel's cold face and his legendary dagger - which only further solidifies that Truth Teller is in fact a big part of Shadowsinger. Summarizing up with what we got from these passages we have: - tenseness - obstructing oneself from the view - defensive stance - crossing arms - coldness - emotionless

I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.” To know when and if Lucien sought her out. What they did together.

Here comes my favorite part in this conversation - Rhys seeing himself in Azriel at that moment and Azriel keeping in mind Elain's privacy and agency. Some people try to paint Azriel as some sort of a toxic guy, who is so traumatized that he doesn't value anyone but himself. I'm wondering where this reasoning came from - since nothing exclusively supports that theory. It's clear that Azriel shows respect towards Elain, as stated above in the quotes - even if at this moment, he is clearly showing signs of jealousy. Which, once again is totally fine. All bat boys showed jealousy throughout the books, and every one of them loved their significant other with all their flaws and weaknesses. But going back to the quote, we are met with the assumption about Azriel's decision of not spying on Lucien - given by Rhysand. Nevertheless, something must have had triggered such response to Azriel's behavior and his stance - that's why I strongly believe that Rhys knew what Azriel felt like (in ACOFAS he's testing the waters, trying to see if his assumptions are right or wrong, in ACOSF he pulls a rank because of the consequences of the possible outcome with Lucien being so close.)

“You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

Rhys noticed and understood that his assumptions about Azriel's feelings and emotions are correct, that's why his tone changed. He is constantly observing and giving us very detailed descriptions of the changes undergoing in Azriel's persona while discussing Lucien (and inwardly Elain.) Now, let's look at the metaphor used to underline his emotions in relation to his Siphons. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. - gutter - flicker and burn unsteadily - foreboding - a feeling that something bad will happen; fearful apprehension

SJM used these words in such a situation - a whole sentence that indicates turmoil that is happening inside Azriel. Behind his aloof expression, we got to know that his emotions are restless, that what he is experiencing is sound and present at this moment. We see that by the description of his Siphons - turning dark at the mention of Lucien's possible whereabouts. We don't necessarily know what Azriel thought - if it was apprehension connected to the possibility of Lucien being in the same house, near Elain, or even somewhere where Azriel wouldn't have expected him to be. Judging by the course of the conversation, I would be inclined to believe that it was thought of Lucien being close to Elain.

I straightened at the pure order in the words. But I said, voice slipping into a drawl, “He went to the Spring Court. He’ll be there for Solstice.”

As we are in Rhys POV we can see that he has been caught off guard by the way Azriel delivers his line, yet he masks it with a drawl. Was it because something that Rhys suspected came true? As in, for example, some validation about Azriel and Elain's relationship? We can guess, however, the text clearly states that Rhys was somehow surprised by the tone of his friend. The pure order is what initially made me reread ACOFAS and this scene few times since it carries a heavy chunk of foreshadowing, but also the weight of Azriel's emotions.

Azriel doesn't let anything on his face, which is almost devoid of emotions while talking to Rhys about Lucien - yet, we get so many descriptions about the way his tone changes, his body language, his Siphons, and gaze. Even if he doesn't show externally that he is feeling all those emotions, that doesn't mean that he lacks them. Because, clearly what we have in the text, suggests that Azriel exhibits symptoms of jealousy. This is completely understandable since in the books we get to know that he and Elain have already started getting to know each other off the pages. Another interesting thing is, how structured and written this scene is. We have an insight into Rhysand's thoughts and he is thinking about Feyre and Tamlin.

With Tamlin, it was more complicated than that. More complicated than I let myself usually dwell on. He was still in love with Feyre. I couldn’t blame him for it. Even if it made me want to rip out his throat. I shoved the thought away.

Rhysand acknowledges the fact that the whole thing with Tamlin is complicated, as he repeats in his mind - the situation was something that literally destroyed one of the Courts. It's also peculiar and worth noticing that Rhys is aware of the love Tamlin has for Feyre, and even if he knows that, he is ready to kill Tamlin.

In the contrast, the talk is about Azriel, Lucien, and... Elain. Another triangle that is, in fact, complicated.

“I’ll discuss Vassa and Jurian with Lucien when he returns. See if he’s up for another visit.” I angled my head. “Do you think he can handle being around Graysen?” Az’s expressionless face was precisely the reason he’d never lost to us at cards. “Why should I be the judge of that?”

Rhys asks about Lucien and how Azriel sees him behaving around Graysen, which in my opinion is another instance of testing Spymaster. I angled my head, which is what Rhysand does and synonym to angle is tilt. Once again we are going to look at what does body language says about it. It can indicate curiosity, suspicion, and in some cases even uncertainty. In this particular moment, I believe it's curiosity mixed with suspicion - Rhys has been observing Azriel the moment he changed the subject of the conversation to Lucien. We also have another description of Azriel's expressionless face - showing us, readers, that Rhys notes the changes in his behavior. Azriel even proceeds with questioning his friend about the purpose of that inquiry and how he of all people is the one who is capable of being a judge in this case. I think we can see it as some sort of dodging, stalling even.

“You mean to tell me that you weren’t bluffing when you said you didn’t track Lucien’s every movement?” Nothing. Absolutely nothing on that face, on his scent. The shadows, whatever the hell they were, hid too well. Too much. Azriel only said coldly, “If Lucien kills Graysen, then good riddance.”

Even if Azriel is described as expressionless and almost emotionless in this scene, we do see the moments when his feelings came up to the surface. Just like here, Azriel bottles down his anger and other emotions, letting out only his coldness. However, the question is why? Why so much iciness and apprehension? If the conversation and subjects of it weren't important to him, he would have probably behaved as usual - with his aloofness, but not necessarily hostility hid behind the frostiness. What's even more notable is the fact that Rhys comments about how his shadows hid his emotions/feelings, even on his scent. Azriel did it on purpose, he covered himself so he wouldn't be detected - or better to say to cover up his true emotions that Rhysand could have easily spotted. The biggest tell about it is the addition of "too much". If there wasn't anything to hide or the emotions under the cover were vain or small - Rhysand wouldn't have had added that thought.

No. Sort of. “I’d think bankrolling her apartment and drinking was gift enough.” Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

The conversation changes its topic - and Rhys starts to discuss sisters and presents. We see that Azriel's first reaction is rooted in body language. He is running his hand through his hair which suggests nervousness, frustration, stress, or even a sign of disagreement over whatever is being said. From all these things I think we can lean towards nervousness the most or even frustration - since just before that leap of the topic he was immersed deep down inside his feelings and tried to mask his true emotions about Lucien and Elain. Another thing is that Rhysand also notices that it's unusual for Azriel to stutter, stumble with his words which he does after he runs his hand through his hair. He's nervous.

“No,” I said, and meant it. Az seemed to loose a sigh of relief. Seemed to, since all but a breath of air passed from his lips. “I don’t think Nesta gives a shit, and I don’t think Elain expects to receive anything from us. I’d leave the sisters to exchange presents amongst themselves.” Az nodded distantly.

Rhysand doesn't even know if he can call Azriel's sigh a sigh since it seems that all it was, was just a short exhale. I do think that it was a sigh - of relief. However, we can speculate about what the relief is connected to. If it is for not buying gifts or maybe because the conversation steered in another direction and all these pent-up emotions, feelings, and even frustrations could finally be released? What's clear is that Azriel feels a lot, in this scene particularly. He is hiding it behind his shadows, obstructing it from Rhys, but also from the reader's point of view. Nevertheless, SJM used an enormous chunk of body language to show us what Azriel is feeling - jealousy. Another thing is that he seemed to think about what's being said about sisters and their gifts - because he was described to be nodding distantly.

Az nodded knowingly. He’d always understood me best—more than the others. Save my mate. Whether it was his gifts that allowed him to do so, or merely the fact that he and I were more similar than most realized, I’d never learned.

I love this quote and that it comes from Rhysand's POV as well. It shows that Rhysand knew and his suspicions were, in fact, correct - because he probably saw himself and his infatuation with Feyre in the way Azriel behaved with Elain. I do also think that it will come back in the next book - the bond between Azriel and Rhysand, and probably some of the small fallout because of what had happened with them in Azriel's POV. SJM put Lucien, Elain, and Azriel in here, while Rhysand thought about his situation with Feyre and Tamlin. Two triangles, two different, complicated outcomes, and relationships. Forbidden romance? Yes. Politically connected? Yes. Could start a war? Yes. There are so many similarities between them.

The thing with Azriel is that his feelings aren't over the top - he's not vocal about them. The power of his emotions lies in the quietness and his actions. If we sat back and looked at scenes in which he acts towards Mor or Elain, we can see that his strength in loving someone isn't connected to words, but rather than that - presence and behavior.

[princessphilly]

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Word Count: 5118

CW: angst, smut but not super filthy smut (medium filth?), bad language

Dress and shoes that Nina wore in this chapter

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Only three more chapters and an epilogue left

Nina fidgeted as dug into her pocketbook for her keys to her parents’ house. It was time for Sunday dinner, the one meal a week that she wasn’t responsible for cooking and therefore, Nina never missed it. Cooking was not her forte and Nina had no problems with that. However, this Sunday dinner, she needed to talk to her family about their lives changing.

The smell of roast chicken filled the house and Nina took a deep sniff as she opened and closed the door. Aryanna and Dad were watching the late game aka hate-watching the Ravens vs Saints. The Steelers were playing on Monday night this week. 

“Heey sweettart,” Vernon said, getting up to give his oldest daughter a hug. 

Nina hugged her father back, holding him close for a second. “Hi Dad.”

“Oh no!”

Nina ended the hug, turning with her father towards the tv. Lamar Jackson had just run for a 20-yard touchdown. They all groaned; the Steelers needed the Ravens to lose as both teams were running neck to neck for the AFC North crown. As Nina got absorbed into the game, the situation with Sidney was still in the back of her mind. 

Nina had talked to her mom earlier in the day, explaining everything to her mother, well everything but the sex. Tracey had listened with an open ear before telling her daughter not to make a decision over her potential happiness just because of how it could affect her family. Tracey had reminded Nina that Jason, while he was at UNC now, had been a 5-star tight end prospect and they dealt with the media when it was time for him to sign with a college. 

After talking to her mom, Nina had taken a nap before coming to sunday dinner. As she watched the game, waiting to eat, Nina hoped for courage. However, she kept it to herself when it was time to eat, instead listening to Aryanna talk about school, her dad talk about his new position at work which meant that he wasn’t going to be going out on the road as much anymore. Nina shared some stories about her clients while Tracey talked about the switch to travel nursing over working in the hospital. But when it was over, Nina gulped and summoned her courage.

“So, I got news,” Nina started once dinner was over and dessert was served. She looked down at her glass of water. Before she could continue, Aryanna piped up. “Let me guess, you’re breaking up with Sidney Crosby because you’re a punk.”

“Aryanna!” 

Nina glared at her little sister while Tracey reprimanded, “That was rude, little girl.”

“Sorry,” Aryanna muttered.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted,” Nina said, “I have news. After thinking about it, talking to Sidney, and going over the pros and cons, I’ve decided to give him another chance.”

Tracey smiled as Aryanna shouted yes. Vernon looked at his daughter and carefully said, “Are you ready for it?”

Nina grimaced. “As ready as I can possibly. Are y’all?”

“We only want you to be happy, sweetie,” Tracey consoled. “Plus, I saw those pics of you two. He’s smitten.”

Nina groaned while Aryanna laughed. Vernon added, “We were already planning to move soon anyway. We’ve been looking at homes in South HIlls and we just closed on a house in Mt. Lebanon.”

“Oh wow. When was I going to find out,” Nina said with a smirk. She knew her parents had been thinking of moving for a while but the market had been super hot for a long time. Before she had moved into her current apartment, Nina had heard of the different arguments her parents had about moving to different areas. But before they could find somewhere, someone else would snap it up.

Tracey grinned. “We weren’t going to say anything until we closed because of how long it took to find somewhere. It’s taken almost two years and we even saved enough to offer forty percent as a down payment. It’s a fixer-upper though but it has a bigger backyard for my garden and the schools are better.”

“What are you going to do with this house,” Nina asked before taking a bite of her sweet potato pie. Fuck, she wished she could bake and cook just so she could make herself sweet potato pie all of the time. 

Vernon replied, “Probably sell. There are people looking to buy even though this area isn’t that great. ”

“I guess it’s settled. This is exciting though.”

Tracey snickered before looking at her husband. “I hope you are still excited when we need you to help pack, Ni-ni.”

Nina looked to her right before taking out her phone and sending a quick message. Free monday? 12pm?

She received a quick response. Yup, just tell me where to meet

Vernon casually commented, “I’m also looking at it this way; this is a practice for when Jason is in the NFL and becomes famous.”

“Good point,” Tracey said. “I can start practicing telling people no even more now.”

Nina laughed. “Looks like I have nothing to worry about then.”

The conversation switched to the Steelers game tomorrow night as they finished dessert.

**

Honestly, Sidney was a bit surprised to get a message from Nina so quickly. He had fully expected her to wait until Wednesday and he had been preparing himself for the worst possible outcome. As a competitor, prepping for each game meant learning his opponents’ strengths and weaknesses. Nina wasn’t his opponent but Sidney was now very aware of the power she had over him with just one look, let alone her touch or words. 

Nina had asked to meet somewhere that wasn’t at their homes. Sidney suggested lunch but after looking at his schedule, he asked if Nina could maybe meet him at the Pens offices and then get lunch after. Fidgeting in the smaller conference room, Sidney began to worry that Nina wouldn’t show up when the clock showed that it was already five minutes past the time they agreed to. But then, Nina wasn’t the most on time person either so Sidney rationalized to himself, he should worry if it was fifteen minutes passed and she still wasn’t here. 

Then outside the door, Sidney saw Nina talking with Evelyn, one of their PR mavens. They were having an animated discussion and Sidney smiled softly. Nina opened the door and grinned at him. “Hi Sid, sorry for being late.”

Evelyn waved at Sidney and he waved back. After Nina walked in, Evelyn peeped in and said, “I was just catching up with Nina since it’s been a while since she’s been here.”

Sidney nodded as Nina replied, “thank you so much for the advice, Evelyn, I will definitely use it!”

Evelyn waved goodbye before closing the door firmly. Nina chose a chair directly across from Sidney and sat down. There was a brief pause before Nina giggled. “Oh my God, you looked like you were about to die before I showed up.”

“Well, I had to remind myself that you’d show up but part of me still was worried because of everything in our last conversations,” Sidney replied. 

The aura in the room turned serious as Nina bit her lip and folded her hands together. “Yeah, those conversations,” Nina started. “I like you a lot, Sidney Crosby, but… I hate this circus that surrounds you. I know that it’s something you can’t control but I hate it. But I realized, especially after talking to my mom, there’s nothing I can do about it now. My life’s forever changed.”

Sidney cleared his throat but Nina stopped him. “Let me finish, Sid because I can already tell you’re ready to make promises you can’t keep. So let me save both of us the headache.”

Sitting back, Sidney leaned in his chair. “What are your plans, pretty girl?”

“You have to get over being super private and claim me publicly. You want me to be yours, Mr. Crosby? Then you have to let the world know we are together. No are they or aren’t they bullshit.”

Nina glared at Sidney when she was done. Sidney flushed; part of him hated the idea of letting the world know more than they really needed to know about his personal life. At the same time, he already knew he was going to do whatever Nina asked him to, in his own way. “You know I don’t use social media,” Sidney began before trailing off. Then he smirked. 

Nina casually said, “you’ll find a way.”

“I already figured it out,” Sidney drawled. “What else do you want, pretty girl?”

“No more surprise meet ups with people from the team, let me know ahead of time. Just like I’ll let you know ahead of time whenever I decide you should meet my fam.”

Sidney actually blushed while Nina arched an eyebrow. “I know I’m amazing but that was a bit uncomfortable when I think back. At least you didn’t abandon me to talk to your teammates and let me fend for myself.”

“I’m sorry, Nina,” Sidney apologized. He felt really bad now: he had been so excited that he really didn’t think about how Nina would have felt. Nina shrugged; it wasn’t that bad to be honest because Sidney stayed at her side, introduced her to everyone, and made sure she was included. But that didn’t mean she wanted him to continue doing that. 

Nina smiled at Sidney and asked, “what do you think, Sid?”

Sidney scratched his jaw as he thought of his reply. It was relatively simple but it would also be life-changing for him. He finally said, “Yes, it all sounds good. But I have one thing?”

“What’s that?”

Sidney smirked as he looked Nina up and down. Nina rolled her eyes as she smiled. She could guess where his mind was, right in the gutter. But Sidney surprised her when he said, “Then let me spoil you.  I have no problem claiming you publicly, but I want you to let me treat you like I’ve been wanting to treat you.”

Nina gave Sidney a bashful smile before looking to the side. “I’ll never say no to purses and shoes but I don’t want you to buy out the store-“

“I already know that, sweetheart,” Sidney firmly said, “but let me treat you like you deserve.”

“Okay, okay,” Nina conceded.

Sidney pushed his chair back, making space. Then he patted his lap. “Come ‘ere.”

Nina got out of her chair and sat on Sidney’s lap. “You know where we are,” she hissed even though she had obeyed him. 

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Sidney smiled. Smelling her coconut-vanilla scent, he realized how much he had missed her. “I know, I’m not going to do anything inappropriate, pretty girl. Just missed having you close to me.”

Sidney kissed the back of Nina’s neck, causing her to shiver. “Watch the postgame of our next game, Nina. Now, what do you want for lunch?”

“Um, honestly, I want Chipotle. I have to get back to work in about an hour so nothing fancy,” Nina replied. 

Turning so that she was facing Sidney, she placed her index finger over his lips when he opened his mouth. “I forgot to add this earlier but I’m also going to say this now. I’m not quitting my job anytime soon. I’m going to finish my Ph.D. and if I decide to stop working, it’s because I plan to teach full-time. So, if you expect I’ll be waiting at home and living for you, now you know that’s not going to happen,” Nina stated. 

Sidney opened his mouth to reply but the door opened. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you, Sidney!”

Nina squeaked in surprise and Sidney sighed. It was Brian Burke and Sidney was sure that it was probably something important but this wasn’t quite the moment where he wanted to see him. 

Brian smiled. “It looks like you two have made up.”

Nina weakly waved. At first, she was going to move off of Sidney’s lap but his hand around her waist made that impossible. “I’d introduce myself but I figure I interrupted,” Brian continued. 

“It’s okay, I was on my way to get lunch,” Nina replied. 

Sidney added, “With me.”

“Don’t forget, you said you wanted to help with more planning for our pride game this season,” Brian reminded Sidney.

“Ohh, the pride game! You’re getting more involved in it? That’s awesome,” Nina exclaimed. 

Sidney blushed as he smiled under Nina’s praise. 

“Would you be interested in being involved, Nina,” Brian asked.

Nina paused for a second, her eyes wide. “Um, sure.”

“I can get your contact information from Sidney,” Brian asked.

Nina nodded as Sidney rubbed his hand up and down her back. Sidney said, “I’ll let you know,” as Brian closed the door. 

Placing a hand over her face, Nina sighed. “Wow.”

“It’s fine. Look, your first volunteer project,” Sidney kidded. 

“I need to eat.”

**

The game against the Isles had gone well. Sidney had tallied two assists and a goal in a 4-2 win after having a four game slump. Normally post-game interviews were a necessary evil but he was a bit nervous this time. Not because he knew they were going to ask about getting out of his slump, but because of what he was going to say. 

The first couple of questions were easy softballs. Then Sidney was hit with the question that opened the door. 

“Sidney, great breaking your slump. There were rumors that your personal life was affecting your game on the ice. What do you think about that?”

Sidney looked at the reporters, all ready for him to give a cliche. Instead, Sidney admitted the truth. “My personal life was affecting my game on the ice. But we’ve fixed our issues and I’m glad.”

There was a pause, as if the reporters didn’t know where to start. Sidney looked at one of the PR interns to the side. The intern gave him a slight smile and a quick thumbs up. Sidney decided to continue, “We prefer to keep our relationship private for now but she means a lot to me and is very important to my life. I will not be answering any more questions about my relationship at this moment.”

Luckily, the rest of the questions were about hockey but Sidney knew that his statement was going to be a big part of what everyone was going to talk about. Once back in the locker room, Geno gave Sidney a big grin. Tanger said, “You did it?”

“Yeah but I’m serious, I’m not going to answer a bunch of questions about my personal life,” Sidney replied. “Now though, every time we struggle, the dumbasses will start talking about it.”

Tanger grimaced as Geno said, “Fuck them.”

Guentzy laughed as he stated, “I agree with Geno. Fuck them.”

Sidney laughed as he pulled his shirt off before pulling off his pads. Sitting in his crocs, hockey pants and pads, Sidney pulled out his phone. There was just one message from the only person who’s opinion mattered to him, wow😍 .

Sidney replied back, made it official for u but in the way u wanted 😁😏

😘🥰 part of me can’t believe it but i’m happy u listened to me, was Nina’s reply. 

Sidney texted, only 4 u, before finishing getting undressed so he could take a shower.

**

To be totally honest, Nina thought her life would have exploded the minute that Sidney admitted that he was seeing someone in the post-game conference after the Isles game. It wouldn’t take much to put 2 and 2 together, especially when she went out with Sidney and the Malkins to a popular Shadyside restaurant the day after. But things were relatively calmer. 

There were still the nasty looks from other people, especially women when Nina was out by herself, running her everyday errands. But there were also people who seemed to defer to her and it felt so fucking weird. Like, if she wanted to, Nina felt like people were ready to let her do whatever she wanted because she was now Sidney Crosby’s girlfriend. 

Nina bit her lip as she waited in line to pay for her groceries. Then someone bumped into her and it was Ron. “Hey Nina, long time no see.”

“Hi Ron,” Nina replied with a strained smile. 

“Not everyday one sees their ex. Look at you, shopping like the rest of us. Your man ain’t ordering groceries for you.”

Nina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She could feel the eyes of other people at Weis and she knew there were people looking for something to gossip about. Nina definitely didn’t want to give Ron the satisfaction of a reaction. She merely replied, “I have my own life I have to take care of on my own.”

“Oh wow, because I remember the way you two were looking at each other that time we went out on a date. Makes me think you were cheating on me with him,” Ron goaded. 

Nina gave him a blank look. “We were long over, for almost three years, before I went out with Sidney. But you had two other women when we were a couple,” Nina stated with a shrug. “Anyway, it’s my turn to check out. Bye.”

Nina tuned Ron out as she checked out. The cashier commented, “That guy seems like a dick.”

“You live and you learn,” Nina replied with a smile as she paid, unaware that someone had uploaded video of that encounter to the internet.

**

Sidney gulped down his protein shake, home after practice. The season was starting well but he felt like the team could be better. Sidney wanted another cup, one more cup and he felt like this was the year. Then his phone buzzed and he saw it was his mom.

“Hi Mom,” Sidney said, sitting on his sofa. He had some time before he needed to get ready for tonight and it was always good to talk to his mother.

Trina chirped, “Hi Sidney, how are you?”

“I’m doing good, short practice today before our game against New Jersey tomorrow,” Sidney idly replied as he turned his tv on. Flipping through Netflix, he chose an episode of How I Met Your Mother. 

He could hear his mother’s smile through the phone when she teased, “Your father told me you told the press that you are seeing someone last week. Is it that girl you kept talking about over the years?”

Sidney giggle-honked before admitting, “Yes, it is. I’m finally dating Nina.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? This is something totally different for you,” Trina asked, concerned. Her son had a relationship with Kathy but this situation with this new girl was something totally different. Part of her was worried that since Sidney had wanted this girl for so long, that he was diving into this without really thinking about it.

Sidney replied, “You sound like Nina.”

“Hmm, I do?”

“Yep, Mom, you did,” Sidney said, “Nina wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for a long time but I managed to convince her it was.”

Trina was still feeling skeptical. From what she knew, this girl was from the area, a fan of the team, a different race, and had worked for the team for a period of time. It was possible she could be playing the long game. “Is she there with you now?”

Knowing her son, Trina was convinced that Nina was already living with her son. Her son, when he decided he wanted something, went all out to get it. She was surprised when Sidney said, “No, she’s at work, then she has class.”

“Class,” Trina asked, her tone perking up. This sounded interesting. 

Sidney informed his mother, “Nina decided to get a PhD in rehabilitation science this year. She works as a physical therapist.”

“That sounds interesting, isn’t that how you met her,” Trina idly said. The door opened and Troy stepped in. Trina put her finger to her mouth to shush her husband. 

Sidney scratched his head, wondering where his mother was going with these questions. “Yes. Nina works somewhere else totally different now. But she’s looking into becoming a professor after guest lecturing at, I think, Pitt.”

Trina raised her eyebrows. That was interesting information. Switching the conversation to more mundane subjects, Trina filed that information in the back of her head. It sounded like this Nina was a bit more well-rounded than she thought. 

Sidney sighed when he hung up on his mother. That conversation felt like one thing but he could sense there was another undercurrent. Then he received a picture message from Nina and his mind went straight to the gutter. Sidney sighed; it was going to be a long night.

**

“You look very nice.”

Nina smiled as she replied, “Thank you,” to the guest. 

It was kind of last minute, this dinner that Nina found herself invited to. It was thrown by Nathalie and most of the top brass of the Penguins were here as well as Sidney, the Letangs, and the Malkins. Because Sidney had gone public with their relationship, Nina had found herself suddenly invited. Luckily for her, Nina already had an appropriate cocktail dress for the occasion. 

Her dress was black with an asymmetrical one shoulder with a bow but it came to just above knee level. Nina’s heels were gold, an impulse purchase several months ago that she was happy to have. The outfit was classy, understated, and definitely Penguins colors. 

Sidney seemed to like it as well from the way his arm stayed possessively around Nina’s waist whenever possible. At least it wasn’t a public event; the possessiveness would have looked bad. But because it was informal and in a private room at PPG arena, Sidney was able to get away with it. 

The length was a blessing and a curse. A blessing that it meant that Sidney couldn’t try to do any funny business during dinner but a curse in that the more he touched her, the more Nina wanted him. By the end of the night, it was obvious that Sidney was getting close to losing his cool and Nina was loving it. 

As soon as they got into the car at the end of the night, Sidney pounced. His lips touched hers, demanding and devouring as he kissed her. Then abruptly, Sidney let go. “You'd been torturing me all night in that little black dress. So sexy, the way it showed off my pretty girl’s body.”

Sidney already knew that Nina was perfect in every way anyway. However, as soon as he saw her step in with that black dress and gold heels, it took every ounce of media training and self-control for Sidney not to strip it off of her and fuck her right there. Right now, he was glad that he hired a car after this event. 

Sidney didn’t even do anything in the car other than keep his hand on Nina’s thigh. The difference was that he told Nina every filthy thing he planned to do to her once he got her home. Nina wiggled on the seat, her legs shifting as Sidney whispered what he planned to do to her. It was insane, what he could do to her with his words. 

Nina had expected Sidney to push her against the wall when they got back to his place but instead, he just guided Nina to the kitchen before taking out two glasses. Picking out a wine, Sidney poured two glasses. 

“I’ve missed you in my bed but I’m patient,” Sidney stated, his hands palming Nina’s ass before giving both cheeks a smack. Then Sidney picked up the glasses of wine and passed one to Nina.

Nina smirked. “I’m not,” she said as she took a sip. 

“Can’t be patient for me, pretty girl?”

Nina shrugged as she took another sip. Then she delicately licked a drop that was on her lower lip, causing Sidney to visibly grunt and shudder. “Maybe,” Nina finally replied. 

“Good.”

Sidney sat down in a chair and patted his lap. Nina sat on his lap, the hem of her dress riding up. “Did you have a good time?”

“I actually did for something that was pretty last minute. Don’t ask me if I remember everyone’s name yet.”

“That’s okay,” Sidney reassured Nina. “No one expects you to remember everyone, yet.”

Nina snorted before taking another sip of her wine. Idly, Sidney added, “Fuck, I love this dress.”

“Maybe if you move your hands higher underneath it, you’ll get a surprise,” Nina taunted. Licking her lips, she winked.

Unable to resist a challenge, Sidney moved his hand higher and higher. Then he whistled when he realized Nina’s surprise. “You went commando all night and didn’t tell me?”

“I’m lucky this dress was lined so well that no one could tell,” Nina admitted. “But it was worth it.”

“How,” Sidney asked as his hand touched Nina’s pussy. She was already wet.

Nina smirked. “Because I knew if you found out tonight, the look on your face would have been priceless.”

Sidney ignored that statement as he stroked Nina’s core with his fingers. Rolling her clit with his fingers, Sidney hissed at the idea that Nina was here, with him tonight. His pretty girl, perfect in his lap. "I love how wet you get for me, pretty girl."

"Only for you, daddy," Nina moaned as she clutched his shoulders. Sidney growled at her words, her pussy clenching harder on his fingers. 

Suddenly, Sidney picked Nina up and placed her on the table. Nina smiled as she hiked up her dress and spread her legs. Sidney licked his lips. “We’re gonna see how many times you cum for me tonight, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait,” Nina moaned as his mouth met her core.

**

Sidney woke, at first disoriented because someone else was in his bed and curled up on top of him. Then he realized it was Nina and he relaxed. Her head was on top of his chest, one arm on him as she slept on her side. Carefully extracting himself, Sidney went to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he watched Nina continue to sleep, now curled into herself. Sidney took a quick picture, it was so cute. However, after taking the picture, he checked his messages. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted.

Nina opened her eyes slowly, her body deliciously sore after last night. Stretching out her arms, she sleepily asked, “What’s wrong, Sid?”

“Seems like someone has something against you, pretty girl,” Sidney said, suppressing his fury. 

Nina’s eyes snapped open, sleep now forgotten. Sitting up, she queried, “What happened?”

“There's a video of you with some guy at a market.”

Grimacing, Nina sighed. “I ran into Ron while getting groceries. He was being a jagoff asshole.”

“You don’t look bad at all, PR thinks you handled it perfectly.”

Nina got off the bed and walked over to Sidney. Wrapping her arms around him, she pleaded, “Fuck him and fuck whoever took video.”

Snuggling into Sidney’s chest, Nina nipped one of his nipples. “Plot your revenge later, Sid. It’s eight am and I know you have a maintenance day today. Come back to bed.”

“‘Come back to bed?’ You know this is my bed,” Sidney joked. His anger was going away each second that Nina was pressed against him, her lips giving him little kisses and bites on his upper body. 

Nina looked up at Sidney, giving him soulful eyes. “Please, daddy?”

Trailing her hands around his neck, Nina murmured, “I’ve been so good. Please?”

“Fuck, how can I say no,” Sidney groaned as Nina giggled. Picking her up, he tossed her on the bed. 

Scooting back, Nina spread her legs as Sidney settled in the middle of them. “I love the way you fuck me, Sidney.”

Sidney smirked, his brown eyes smoldering as he crouched over Nina. “Oh do you?”

“Yes, I do,” Nina hummed, her fingers tugging on his chain. “You should do it again.”

Sidney settled between Nina’s thighs, pulling her legs around his waist. His lips lowered to hers in a gentle kiss. Slow and drugging, enough to make both of them red hot for each other, full of promise. Pulling away, Sidney nipped Nina’s lower lip. Nina sucked her lip into her mouth, her brown eyes meeting Sidney’s. Cupping Nina’s chin, Sidney reminded her, “How do you ask, pretty girl?”

“Please fuck me, daddy,” Nina asked, her body arching towards his. “Make me yours.”

“Good girl.”

**

Nina tried hard not to feel self-conscious as she made her way to the ice-level with Aryanna, Catherine and her children, and Anna with Nikita. It had been a week since that awful article with video from her interaction with Ron. It had been set up to make Nina look like a gold digging whore and it hurt to have guys, guys she had only gone out with once or twice, say things that made her seem horrible. Nina hadn’t admitted that part to Sid when he was in a fury about it. Lauren had reminded Nina that men tend to be assholes about women that they couldn’t have and that Nina was way beyond their level even before her current relationship. 

Even though Nina had distracted Sidney that morning, by the afternoon, that article was off the internet. A radio host had mentioned it and then within an hour, issued an apology for talking about it. However, it was forgotten pretty quickly as more people cared about the Steelers potentially staying undefeated with a game coming up against the Browns.

Nina smiled as they reached the ice. The team was doing warm-ups and Sidney was in the midst of his pregame rituals. She actually had more enjoyment from watching Aryanna react to watching the guys on the ice. Tanev gave the glass near them an ice shower while Geno and Kris had greeted Nina and Aryanna while saying hi to their families. Then, very unexpectedly, Sidney broke one of his traditions and came over. Giving the glass a small shower, Sidney waved at Aryanna before smirking at Nina. Nina smirked back before giving Sid a little wave. 

As people took pictures of Sid waving to her, Nina smiled. She could live with this, maybe. ‘No, that was a lie’, Nina thought as they made their way to the family box. She was going to have to live with this now, it was too far gone to go back. And she didn’t want to.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

A Reading: Part 10 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem! Witch Reader)

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Warnings: cursing, the frogs are canonically jerks, prejudice,

Word Count: 3k

"Bye, Lucy!" You called, walking out of the video store. It had been a few months since Max's death, since the time you'd accidentally stumbled onto the town of Santa Carla. Summer had left, as well as most of the summer tourists. Yet, you had stayed.

You'd stayed as a safe avenue of communication between the Emerson's and the coven at first. You and Mrs. Johnson talked terms, this time without Grandpa's presence, and dictated what would happen after. 

It was decided the boys would stay in Santa Carla, as would the Emerson's. They'd live in avoidance, mostly. The Emerson's wouldn't tell anyone about the coven, would call off the Frogs, and the boys wouldn't attempt to turn or kill any of the Emerson's, or their friends. And, for the first few weeks, avoidance had worked. Until Star needed to get some of her things.

All of the Emerson's, except Grandpa, came to the cave. It was quickly decided that the boys didn't feel comfortable having a retired vampire hunter know where they slept, but that didn't mean they'd been successful in avoiding an interaction with the Frogs. You'd watched how the boys hovered, not knowing how to treat the brunette as she hurried to stuff what she needed into trash bags. They'd decided not to leave the humans alone in their den, but to spend the time acting as if they simply weren't there. Michael stood by the entrance to her room, but it was proven quickly that he was no help at all. He avoided eye-contact with any of the boys, and almost hadn't even introduced himself to you. The only help seemed to be Lucy, and, quickly, you understood why Max had risked so much for the woman. To the point of getting himself, and almost his son's, killed.

She'd regarded you all with a warmth that was uncommon from anyone not apart of the supernatural world, and her first words had been,

"Wow, this place is amazing!" As she looked around the cave. After that, it'd been hard to be anything except nice to her. She quickly ruined the boys' original plan by introducing herself and asking for their names, and you saw the boys look uncharacteristically embarrassed when she mentioned something about a motorcycle interaction. "And you are?" She asked, and you'd given her name freely. She'd looked you over, and then at the boys. You could see the wheels turning in her head, and she tried to politely ask, "Are you...one of Max's children?" She asked, and you laughed in surprise before quickly shaking your hands.

"No, no. I'm not- I'm human. I'm just-" You'd been cut off by a gruff voice, one you quickly realized belonged to one of the camo-wearing teens. The one wearing the red bandana to be precise.

"A witch." He said, like the simple word disgusted him. He and his brother were standing near the stone steps, with the youngest Emerson only a step besides them. You frowned at the wannabe hunter, part of you wishing you'd given him more than a scare that one day, but you glare quickly proved to shake whatever tough resolve he had. He and his brother took a step back, as if you might curse them. Lucy was quick to say, 

"Edgar! That's not polite." She said the last sentence with a tilt of her head, and you couldn't help but smile at the look she gave him. You heard a snicker behind you, and you knew it was Paul without having to look. The Frogs looked at eachother, before Edgar shuffled his feet and muttered an apology. Even if it was a sorry excuse for one, you accepted it. She gave him a warm smile, and then one to you as well. She lifted her brows and moved her shoulders, her voice sweet as she said,

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" You helped her help Star. She took her time to actually fold the clothes before putting them into the bags, while Star was just throwing what she could into them. It was clear she didn't want to stay long, and she was murmuring to herself the entire time. Though, for Lucy's sake, she eventually just started giving you and Lucy the clothes for the pair of you to fold. The younger boys, to make themselves useful, ran up any bags and boxes of things that Star was going to take with her. After about a half hour, she'd gotten more brave and began walking around the cave to find whatever discarded items she claimed as her own. She didn't speak the boys, until Paul came over, to you specifically, with a box of sorted cadettes. You arched a brow and gave him a look, and he glanced over to where Star was packing in her make-shift room. 

"These ones are hers, but I don't think she wants to, y'know." He said, tilting his head towards her. You could guess the rest of his sentence. He figured Star was avoiding them for a reason, whether it be out of embarrassment or a want to distance herself from her previous vampirism. You also guessed that not all of the boys wanted to talk to her either. You'd noted how Marko had flown high into the cave, deciding to focus on spray painting something on the ceiling rather than what was going on below. How David sat in his chair, having turned it away from all of you as he read. You gave him a smile and beckoned him close. He smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, bracing his hands on your upper arms as he did so. You quietly told him,

"Thank you. You're sweet." And he accepted the compliment with a smile and a nod, before he was waltzing back over towards their music collection to rearrange it now that it was partially empty. You brought the box over to Star, asking her,

"Um, these are yours?" And she gave you a look of surprise. Her eyes flicked to the blonde that was sitting on the floor, and she gave you a polite smile and a nod before she took the box from your arms. She placed it with the rest of the stuff that she was taking, and you went back over to Lucy to help her organize what she could. You hadn't noticed the tallest of the boys coming closer until Dwayne was right besides you. You didn't jump, as you were already used to the quietest of the boys. Lucy did, however, and she placed a hand over her chest at the sight of him. 

"Oh!" She said, and both of you gave her a small grin before Dwayne held out a stuffed bear to you. You only had to glance at it once to know that it belonged to the youngest of the previous coven, and your eyes flicked to the curly haired brunette when she came out with another pile for you and Lucy. She froze at the sight of one of the vampires, and you watched as Dwaynes eyes met hers. She gulped before slowly continuing her original path, gently putting down the clothes. Dwayne held out the bear, before he said,

"For Laddie." And Star gave him a nod after she took it. Dwayne nodded back, a silent communication passing between them, before he began to walk away from where you'd set up. Before he could escape completely, Lucy suggested,

"You could- If you want to, you boys could help the others take stuff up. I mean, dear, you're going to want your bed, right?" Lucy asked the girl, and Lucy paused. She looked at Lucy, before glancing at Dwayne. Another beat passed, another moment of silent communication between the brunettes, before Star said a small,

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose. I need my bed frame, and Laddies stuff too." And Dwayne was whistling at the other boys. The only one that responded was Paul, who was pushing himself up to stand and jogging over. You didn't expect David to come, he wouldn't respond to something like that, but you sighed when the three of you glanced up at where Marko was stubbornly sitting. Paul scratched his head, and you sighed.

You knew Marko was stubborn. You'd quickly found that out after living with them for a few weeks. He was only second to David, but he'd quickly decided to take Laddie and Stars reinstated humanity as a personal insult. It didn't help that some of the humans present were supposed to be the ones that murdered him. You looked up at him and called,

"Marko?" While he wasn't completely needed, you knew things would go smoother if he did. Plus, it would help make them look better in the eyes of the non-supernatural beings. Marko didn't say a word in reply, but you saw his head turned. He narrowed his eyes at the Frogs, before his eyes shifted to you. You tilted your head. They'll leave quicker if you help, you thought, and you watched as he slowly shook the can. And you can just get Laddies stuff, you added. He considered it, but ultimately shook his head. It seemed he wasn't ready to move on yet. You bit your lip, shrugging as you looked at Paul and Dwayne. Under his breath, you heard Alan mutter,

"Vampires. Bad hosts." And the Frogs looked up to see you and Dwayne glaring at them, while Paul rolled his eyes and shook his head. Lucy gave him a look, but didn't correct him. 

"I'll get Stars bed." Paul said, and he walked brazenly towards Stars room. "'scuse me, chica." Paul said as he passed Star, and lifted the bed up like it didn't weigh a thing. When he was out of Stars makeshift room, he was able to lift it above his head easily. "So, like, how are we doing this?" He asked, and the humans, the ones who hadn't already been half-vampires themselves, stared at his show of strength.

It was quickly decided that they were going to strap a bed to the roof of each car, as they'd brought two, and they would strap the bed frames on top. Moving the beds was easy for the boys, with Dwayne and Paul simply carrying them up towards the darkness of the night. The only issue was the bedframes. They were awkward to lift and not as flexible as the mattresses themselves, so they still had to be carried by two people. You were just about to offer to help Paul carry up Laddie's bed while Michael and Dwayne tried to get Stars through the entrance of the cave when you heard a flutter besides you.

"I got it." Marko said, reaching to give your arm a squeeze. You gave him a wide smile. Thank you, you thought. He leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek, before he gave you one of his mischievous grins and said, "No problem. You just owe me one now." And he was quick to dance himself out of swatting range. You watched as Paul let out a small cheer of,

"Hell yeah, man." And clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll go first." He said, and lifted his end of the bed. Marko lifted his with ease, but quickly said,

"No way. You're gonna fall on your ass if you lead." And he moved to hold the bedframe behind him and the pair of blondes went to follow the brunettes into the tunnel. It went, admittedly, a little smoother than the brunettes had gone. You blamed it on Michael not having a comparable amount of strength, and not on the fact that he couldn't follow Dwaynes directions when he told him he was tilting it the wrong way.

Lucy had sided up next to you, watching the boys with you now that everything had been sorted and packed. With nothing else to take up and most of the vampires gone, the younger teens were having a look around. They avoided the side that David was sitting in, and you shook your head when you watched them pick up one of the boys' many finds. You saw that Lucy had noticed as well, and you watched her open her mouth to undoubtedly tell them to put it down.

"It's fine." You said, cutting her off and assuring her. "The boys are hoarders anyways." You joked, earning a light laugh from her. The two of you were quiet for a moment, and you opted to watch the boys until the three of them noticed and quickly stopped touching whatever they had been. Again, the pair of you laughed. After a moment, Lucy knocked her arm against yours gently, saying,

"Well, I think we made a good team today." She started, and you gave her a nod in agreement. She was nice, and you were sure the boys agreed too. After a moment, she said, "The boys...They seem rather taken with you." She commented, and you knew what she was too polite to directly ask. If you were honest, you didn't know what you were to any of them. You'd been their protector, their ambassador, and now...You weren't sure. But you knew that David hadn't rescinded your invitation to stay yet.

"Yeah." You agreed simply, keeping your reply vague and looking over towards the platinum blonde. To your surprise, he lifted his head from his book. He glanced over at you, something swirling in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. You sent him a small wave, and he responded to it by giving you an arch of his brow. You rolled your eyes. You should've known that David was allergic to any form of being nice. When you went to glance back over at him, he was standing besides you. Alright, that made you jump.

"Lucy," He started, his eyes flicking to the short-haired woman besides you and ignoring you altogether. "You still work at Video Max's, right?" He asked, and the woman almost seemed a little surprised that David knew. Or, maybe, that he was even talking to her. She gave him a nod, and, before she could verbally respond, David said, "How would you like to own it?" And your mouth nearly fell open at the offer. You were quick to look at the woman besides you. She lifted a hand to her mouth, pausing as if she didn't know what to say. He'd caught the younger boys attention as well, who looked ready to pounce and protect at the slightest sign that this was a trick.

"I-I," She paused, running a hand over her face. "Own it?" She asked, repeating his words. He gave her a charming smile, one that could make even an elderly woman blush.

"Well, we inherited it after Max's death and we don't really have the same," He paused to find the word. "Interests as he did. You already work there and it practically makes money just by being open, so," He paused to glance at you. You'd been wondering what he was doing, why he was doing this. It struck you then. He'd been swimming around your head, and this was his attempt at being nice. "If you want it, it's yours." 

Lucy would've had to be stupid to refuse. She'd been the owner since that day, and David had been right. Even with all of the tourists gone, the store still made money just by being open. Lucy had sent the teens up while she talked with David about the store, and the three of you had gone up to find an interesting sight. 

Dwayne and Michael were still trying to tie the bed-frame to the bed, before Star finally bat away his hands and helped Dwayne tie it. Marko and Paul had already finished, and you saw the pair of them talking to Sam of all people. The Frogs seemed to have decidedly pulled away from the vampires at first, but it seemed that they'd subconsciously moved closer to hear the boys' conversation. You saw him commenting on all of Markos patches, which Marko showed off proudly, and Paul was yapping a mile a minute about the thrift stores they could show Sam so he wouldn't get scalped by the boardwalk prices. You even heard him add a small jab of,

"Like some people." And you watched as Michael gave him a half-hearted punch to the shoulder. Michael seemed to do it without even realizing, seeming shocked with himself, and momentarily terrifed, but Paul was already laughing it off. "Ooh, do it again Mikey I think I liked it." Paul joked, and you quickly cleared your throat before he could say anything worse in front of the woman besides you. Lucy has gone over to go fret over her son's, questioning Michael just on how frequently he punched people, when David had reached for your hand. The leather was cool and smoothing against your fingertips, but his hold was strong. He gave your hand a squeeze when you looked at him, and, for the first time, you thought David almost looked relaxed. He'd given you a tug, but it was you that stepped closer and let him put his arm around you.

Since then, the avoidance rule had been discarded. Laddie had been momentarily adopted by the Emerson's until they found his birth family, which was proving to be harder than they thought. Laddie had been a runaway even before the boys found him. Dwayne and the others wanted to be apart of the little boys life, even if it was just to babysit him on the boardwalk. This led to a strange, silent agreement with Star. Even though you didn't know any better, you almost wanted to say that her moving out and distancing herself had been the best thing for their friendship.

Speaking of friendship, Sam had developed a sort of one with Paul and Marko, one that exasperated Michael to no end. Especially when Paul claimed that he preferred his little brother. And Michael? It had taken the longest for Michael to truly shed any lingering negativity he had towards the boys, but it was decided that he would have to eventually when Lucy offered you a job at the store. One that you'd been hesitant to accept, but had decided to so you could pay the boys some sort of rent. Even if it was only to make you feel better about your current living situation. Even if it lead to you being even more tied to Santa Carla, and the vampires that inhabited it.

But you brushed all those thoughts aside for now. Sam had called you during your shift, and you had a certain pair of brothers to worry about.