#i wonder as well if tattooing is something they would approve of in the change belief

[radioroxx]

the demons the parasites within me that tell me to give characters tattoos

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (IV)

Happy Holidays! Remember your plans to visit friends and family back in your home country? Scratch that. The Yakuza men have other ideas for you in this cozy Christmas special. And you finally get to meet their fearsome Boss, who has a request for you.

Content: female reader, fluff

[Part 3] | [Part 5] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

You stare at your phone in disbelief, rereading each line and hoping you've misunderstood the kanji. Daitou and Kazuya are quietly frowning behind you, unsure how to help in such a situation. Their lack of response only confirms it.

The brief paragraph is written in bold, red font: Due to weather conditions, all flights are cancelled until further notice. Passengers have been refunded and will need to repurchase their tickets at first convenience.

One glimpse at the last-minute prices and you're certain of it: you won't be going home for Christmas. You slouch and sigh, somewhat at peace with the idea. What else can you do? You might as well get yourself a KFC bucket and stare at the holiday lights in the city center. You and the couples taking cheesy Christmas selfies, who will later wonder about the gloomy loner behind them philosophically crunching on spicy wings.

"Don't look so defeated, (Y/N). You can just spend that time with us instead. We're not such terrible company, are we?" Kazuya jokes, trying to cheer you up.

"We could even go on a trip around New Year."

Your eyes light up in anticipation, the sadness vanishing almost instantly. 

"Can we go to one of those hot spring inns? I've always wanted to visit an onsen." You put your hands together pleadingly. 

"Whoa! Take me out to dinner first if you're that eager to see me naked." The blonde man winks at you smugly. 

"How would I see you naked? The baths are separated, aren't they?" You inquire. 

"We can't go to the regular ones." Daitou pulls his collar slightly downwards, revealing a fragment of his traditional tattoos. True. A yakuza would never be allowed among the civilians. "We'd have to book a private bath, so there wouldn't be anyone else."

You blush at the prospect of being alone with the two men. Kazuya notices your nervousness and is about to continue his teasing, but Daitou speaks before him, unbothered and oblivious:

"Besides, you've already seen me naked. I can tell you Kazuya doesn't look much different. There's nothing to be shy about."

The blonde man can only gawk, taken aback, and you shove Daitou in a flustered panic, fumbling to find an excuse or a change of subject.

He didn't have to make your business public like that, or he could've at least announced it without you being present. Judging by the blonde's speechless reaction, you're guessing he hasn't been told about your sneaky office smooching that led to the occasional sleepover. If you think about it, there's nothing shameful about being intimate with your boyfriend, but...It's not something you're fully accustomed to yet.

As promised, after the coworker incident you were soon greeted with a job offer in the neighborhood. When you went to your old office to discuss the mandatory year contract, the managers nervously handed you an approval for resignation and refused to discuss any details. You were free to go, no penalty or obligation. They had a fearful demeanor and you hoped Daitou didn't dismember anyone involved. Regardless of his means, you were now at the liberty to pursue other careers.

On the other hand, you were rather anxious about your new workplace. You had flashing visions of drug cartels and gambling parlors, with thugs rattling their drinks at you and demanding proper service. Windows breaking and masked men rolling onto the floor, armed to the brim. Ginza hostesses scurrying behind you and asking for help against an angered client. The night before your first day, you restlessly shuffled in your bed, plagued by second thoughts. What could you possibly do for the yakuza? What ghoulish demands would they prepare for you?

Daitou was the one to accompany you in the morning. He showed you to your desk, and you could discern the blurred frames of people angrily discussing matters in the opposing meeting room, separated by a large window. You gulped.

"They're building a new apartment complex two streets down." Your boyfriend mentioned casually, helping you settle with your belongings. 

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were curious about their talk."

"I mean, I am, but...Is that it?" You gazed at him incredulously. 

"What else? This is a real estate office. Upstairs is the stock investments."

"Oh...Oh...I thought..." You were a little embarrassed. The imaginary scenarios of bloody battles and crimes that kept you awake felt quite ridiculous now.

Daitou seemed to have picked up on your assumptions, because he chuckled and ruffled your hair, following with an explanation. 

"Boss is very strict with our Ninkyo-Do. If you're caught with drugs or petty theft, you're excommunicated. We used to have a bunch of gambling casinos as main income, but nowadays there's too much pressure from the police, ya know? Half of our members aren't even officially registered with the Yakuza, so they can't be tracked. We mostly do stocks and real estate. That's where the cash is. 

Heh. Kinda boring, ain't it? I'm afraid you showed up way after the golden times. Even I'm too young for it. If ya want, I can ask one of the retired seniors to tell you about it. He has a lot of great stories."

You held your tongue from bringing up his frequent killing sprees and just nodded, amused by the fact that his code of conduct didn't register human casualties as wrong. The Yakuza have strict rules of ethics that set them apart from regular mafia. Depending on the Oyabun, or Head of the Family, this chivalrous way of living is reinforced to all members or conveniently swept under the rug. Daitou's Boss seemed to fit in the former category. 

Therefore your "office job" turned out to be an actual office job without the quotes. Although you were often reminded the people passing by weren't your regular salarymen. Many of them were entirely transparent with you, striking up conversations about their latest arrest, or complaining about the poor quality of their pinky finger prosthetic they'd ordered from the Philippines. 

But this isn't the time to reminisce. The prolonged silence is unbearable and one could fry eggs on your hot, burning cheeks. Kazuya is the one to break the awkwardness. 

"Oh, yeah...You coming to the Christmas thing this evening?"

"We'll be there." Daitou smiles innocently, unaware of the discomfort he just caused.

Kazuya raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks at you.

"Did you...?"

"Yup. It's all fine." The dark haired man nods reassuringly. 

"Then I'll see you at dinner, little (Y/N). Don't catch a fever with all that steam blowing out of you." He laughs at your still baffled expression and places his large hand on your head, departing.

Daitou holds the door open for you and you hurry inside. As you both walk down the hallway of the luxurious restaurant, you can't help the nagging feeling that he's once again omitted some vital information. 

"Can you tell me again who else is coming? Just Kazuya?"

"Oh no, it's a Family meeting. So Boss and the rest of the Seniors, too."

You gasp in horror, but before you can scold him, you find yourself behind the canvas screen divider, facing a table of older men in suits, holding their drinks and eyeing you suspiciously. 

"Oi, who the fuck is this, Daitou?" one of them growls. 

"I already told you before, (Y/N). My girlfriend."

"Huh? Did you seriously just bring a civvy to our meeting? I knew you got a loose screw, boy, but this tops it all."

Daitou frowns and steps in front of you, visibly annoyed. 

"If ya got a problem with my woman being here, I can settle it for you, old man. When was the last time you fought someone?"

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've gotten too comfortable sitting up there and barking orders. Let me remind you why they leave the killings to me."

The thick tension in the air is quickly dispersed by a loud, relaxed laugh. At the end of the table, a heavily scarred man with grey hair is clapping his hands in delight, seemingly amused by the events unfolding. He glances at you and pats a cushioned seat to his right. 

"There you are! Come join us, miss (Y/N). Ignore those rusty grumps, they ain't seen a woman outside a host club." He throws the instigator a brief glare. "Is that any way to talk to my guest, Oota?"

The man swallows dryly and mutters an apology. He goes back to his drink, preoccupied, and the rest follow suit. 

You hesitantly kneel down to your designated place, sheepishly peeking at the mysterious figure. Could it be? As if reading your mind, Daitou places an encouraging hand on your waist and lowers his head to your ear, swiftly whispering "that's Boss" before going to greet the others at the table. 

"I-it's a pleasure meeting you, Sir." You mumble nervously.

"No no, pleasure is all mine. I'm Eiji Ijichi, 8th Head of our Family." 

His introduction is unexpectedly warm and his easygoing way of speaking reminds you a lot of Daitou. The faintest grin threatens to appear, but you cover your mouth. With enough imagination, this could be the equivalent of meeting your in-laws. This is Daitou's family, after all. A criminally scary one, but nonetheless you've been welcomed with open arms.

"Do you drink?" The older man asks you, raising his porcelain cup.

"Naturally." You exclaim and lift your own cup enthusiastically. 

"Attagirl!"

As the night progresses, the men at the table are loosening up under the influence of expensive alcohol. Kazuya seems to be caught in a terribly involved conversation with Daitou and one of their Captains, gesturing dramatically and occasionally raising his tone. You notice your glass has once again been filled by the waitress and take another sip, satisfied with observing their fun from the sidelines. Boss has a similar approach, gazing nostalgically over the rowdy group of thugs.

He reaches for his pack of smokes and you scramble to pick up the lighter, politely bowing as you light up his cigarette. He smiles at your gesture. 

"I see Daitou's trained you already."

He ponders for a moment, gently blowing a cloud of smoke upwards. 

"You'll make a good wife."

"Excuse me?" You question, startled by his sudden remark. 

"It's hard to tell, but I'm getting pretty old myself." He snickers at his self made compliment. "Soon it'll be time to pick my successor. I have no children, unless you count that rascal I picked from the streets." He says as he tilts his chin towards Daitou. 

"I love him like my own kid, but I'm sure you noticed he's a little off. Everyone is terrified of him. You can't have a leader if everyone runs away from him, ya know? I was starting to get worried I'd work myself through retirement. Kazuya can only do so much!

Then he comes up to me grinning like an idiot. I thought, 'There it is. He finally lost it', but instead he asks me if I want to see a photo of his girlfriend. Girlfriend?! I was ready to witness some crusty body pillow, my hand was on the phone to call our Family doctor. He shows me a cute foreigner standing next to him. Now I'm pretty sure he's not smart enough to fake photos like that, so it must be the real deal. 'How the Devil did ya pull this one?' I asked him. Cause listen, I was rather handsome back in my day and I still wouldn't have been this lucky.

And would ya look at that, it's the miss that moved into our apartments! How's the living conditions, by the way? Everything going fine?"

You nod energetically.

"Good, good."

He crosses his arms and nods himself, satisfied. He turns to gaze at you intently, with a face you can't quite read.

"You gotta excuse a drunk old man for rambling so much. What I'm trying to say...well...

Take care of him when he becomes the 9th, will ya? If he has you, I'm sure he'll manage. But don't tell him I said that! You gotta keep them humble. See, that's a lesson for you too. If there's one person the Head of the Family bows to, that's his wife! But I doubt he'd let the power get to his head."

You both turn to Daitou. He just finished pouring more sake to his superior and notices your stare. He blushes slightly and waves, unsure why he's suddenly being observed. 

"I think so, too." You respond, waving back. 

How would that look on a CV? Ane-san of a Yakuza family. 

[hobeemin]

inked

💞 genre(s): romance, smut, angst, f2l

💞 pairing: christian yu x tattoo artist!poc (f) reader

💞 summary: he never confessed his feelings for her, worried about the negatives. friends always seemed like the safest route, right? screw that. take a chance.

💞 rating: 18+

💞 warning(s): swearing, pining, mention of breakups, self-consciousness, making out, grinding, teasing, hickies, some over and under clothing fondling

💞 word count: 1.7k

💞 credits: Many thanks to @playmetheclassics​ and @agustdef​ for looking this over and giving me much-needed feedback. 💜💜

banner resources found here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

💞 a/n: this is for @k-vanity idols over flowers spring event 

main flower (genre): roses (romance) | supporting flower (au): waxflower (tattoo parlor) | greenery (tropes): f2l

“Ouch.”

The expression she gave him made him break character and laugh.

“You know that didn’t hurt,” she said while shading in an area.

He smirked, watching as the needle glided over his skin. “I know, and I gotta mess with you a little.”

“Not amused, Christian,” she murmured, wiping away the excess ink. 

He always loved how focused she’d become while working. 

They’d been friends for years. Y/N would touch up his tattoos during a break in town. Christian would come by after her shop closed, and they’d talk for hours or go out for drinks. The attraction was always there, but he never acted on it.

Was it nerves? 

It could be, but Christian valued his friendship with Y/N; he didn't want to ruin it with one misstep–especially since she was in a current relationship.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N placed the tattoo gun on the table, switching it off. She removed her gloves before wiping the sweat from her brow.

“All finished. Tell me what you think?”

Humming, he got up and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. Studying the new piece, he nodded in approval.

“Damn. You outdid yourself; Love. This is great.” Giving her his award-winning smile and wink, he gently squeezed her hand.

“Thank you.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm from his touch. She brushed it aside, distracting herself by wiping the area with antibiotic ointment and wrapping it with plastic wrap.

“It’s all good. You can take the wrap off in a few hours, and make sure to wash it with fragrance-free soap and use some alcohol-free moisturizer,” she instructed while cleaning up her workspace.

Christian nodded as he got out of the chair, stretching his limbs. He glanced over at her for a moment. “You hungry, love?” 

She scoffed as she sprayed the cleaner on the table before cleaning it with paper towels. “You have to ask? Order whatever you like and have it delivered here, and I gotta clean up this place.”

He seemed surprised by her answer as he scrolled through the list of restaurants on the app. Usually, they’d go out to eat, but he wondered why the change now.

“Everything alright?”

She shrugged while putting the ink away. “Don’t feel like being social today is all.”

Y/N was avoiding the subject, but why make him worry? Her problems were her problems, and she’d figure out the rest. Besides, he was busy jet-setting around the world. Her life seemed so insignificant compared to his. Christian decided not to pry and put the order in before helping her around the shop while they waited for their takeout.

He hummed to himself as he swept, bobbing his head. Y/N looked up with interest.

“That sounds good.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

She smiled for the first time that day, brushing her locs off her face. “Uh-huh. Is it something you’re working on?”

“Might be, just foolin’ around with some stuff with Live. See where it goes, ya know.”

Y/N plopped down on the couch with a grunt. “Well, it’s great. I hope I get the first listen when it’s finished.”

“Of course, Love. Anything for you.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, avoiding his gaze. Why did he do this to her? No matter the situation, butterflies always formed in her belly when it came to him. 

“Y/N–”

They didn’t realize how much time had passed as a knock at the door caught them. She was relieved by the distraction. Christian went to retrieve the food and returned moments later, arms full of bags. The smells made her mouth water.

“Sushi?”

“Mhmm,” he answered, handing her a pair of chopsticks and one of the containers.

Y/N opened it to see her favorite sashimi arranged beautifully. “Salmon sake? You remembered?”

Christian gave her a wink. “Love, when it comes to you, I remember everything.”

Fuck. He was doing it again.

Noticing her expression, Christian sat back from her to give her room. “Sorry, Y/N.”

She placed the container, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s fine…I-I…shit…you’re the best. Seriously. I feel like I’m ruining the mood.”

“You’re not, Y/N. I understand if you don’t want to chat about it.”

She grabbed one of the pieces of salmon with her chopsticks popping it into her mouth before speaking up again. 

“It’s this.”

She opened her phone, hit a few buttons, and pushed it toward him. Christian glanced down, reading the text messages to himself. His brows knitted in frustration.

“Is he serious? What the fuck?”

Y/N shrugged, picking at the wasabi and swirling it in the soy sauce. “I’ve tried to wrap my mind around it, but it didn’t make sense. It hasn’t hit me that he broke up with me yet.”

Christian set his chopsticks down and stared at her. “He didn’t deserve you, Love.”

She scoffed softly. “Then why do I feel like shit?”

He closed the distance between them, moving to the couch beside her. With care, he took her hands into his.

“Y/N.”

She met his gaze after a moment of gathering her thoughts. 

“Yes?”

“You have no clue how beautiful you are, inside and out. I-I…fuck…I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself, but I need to confess this to you, Love.”

Worry crossed her face. What could he possibly say? 

“Christian?”

He chuckled softly, glancing at the intricate art in her arms and hands. “You don’t know?”

She blinked at him curiously. “Know what?”

“How much I like you, Love…like a lot. You’re constantly on my mind when we’re not together. I never admitted to it until now cause I didn't want to ruin our friendship.”

“Christian–”

He brushed his hair back, feeling his nerves return. “I know this is a lot to take in. I understand this timing sucks, but I couldn’t go on without telling you my feelings.”

It was a lot to take in. Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. Christian. As in the Christian Yu just revealed, he liked her. Her.

So many things swirled in her mind. How had she not noticed up until this point?! Being so wrapped up in her ex maybe cause her tunnel vision. Of course, she thought Christian was great. Hell, they spent enough time together to come to that conclusion. It never registered that he could find her attractive, though. That was certainly a surprise.

Clearing her throat, she gave him a small smile as the small circles he drew with his thumbs on her hands calmed her.

“You’re right. It is a lot to take in right now. I-It never occurred to me that you felt this way. I-I’m happy you could be honest with me about this.”

His cheeks became flushed under her stare. “I-I know this may be forward, but may I kiss you?”

She pulled her hand away to cover her mouth. “But I just ate.”

His dropped as he scooted closer to her. “I don’t care. I love everything about you, Y/N.”

Removing her glasses, she closed her eyes as his hand caressed her cheek. 

Damn, she was beautiful. His lips found her with ease as a breathy sigh left her lips. His lips were so soft and warm. He guided her gently, pressing her body against his. Her hands found their way to his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

He let out a guttural sound as their tongues touched. She was addicting. He couldn’t get enough of her. Y/N felt her body become aflame as he guided her to lie on the couch. Breaking the kiss, he pulled away to gaze at her. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered.

She suddenly felt shy, but it only added to her charm. Her fingers tangled into his dark locks, making him murmur with contentment.

“Gonna kiss you again. Is that okay?”

“Just kiss me,” she whispered back.

There was no hesitation in that one. Rough but passionate, their bodies molded to each other. His hands explored her body, unzipping her jacket and cupping her breasts as she keened into his touch. Grabbing her legs, he wrapped them around his waist. The denim from his jeans added to the sensation between her legs. 

The leggings she wore did little to stop her arousal. Moaning, she tried to keep herself in control, not wanting to aggravate the new tattoo on his chest. His fingers dragged down her stomach as her top hiked up. She shivered under his touch even more.

“I-Ian,” she rasped out.

He groaned, biting his lip. “Fuck, that is hot. Call me that baby, please.”

Christian’s lips found their way to her neck nibbling and teasing her skin. His nips grew stronger as he found a place on her neck to suckle. Y/N threw her head as more sounds of pleasure passed her lips.

It wasn’t until she felt his cock brush against her core through his jeans that she touched his chest.

“C-Christian?”

He paused his kissing to look at her. “Yes, love.”

She bit her lip, feeling nervous. “As much as I’d love to continue this…”

He nodded in understanding, sitting on the couch and helping her up. She adjusted her clothing and smoothed her locs.

“Trust me, I want this, but not in my shop,” she said with a smile.

He laughed with a nod. “I agree.” He leaned in and kissed her. 

“How about we finish dinner and get out of here? We can go somewhere and talk about what this means for us.”

“I like the sound of that,” she answered, pecking him on the lips. Standing, she walked over to the floor-length mirror, ensuring she was presentable.

“What am I gonna do about this?”

He came up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist. He smirked, seeing the darkened spot at the base of her throat. 

“We’ll figure it out or something else.”

“Such as?”

A mischievous smirk appeared on his face. “I could add a few more to match.”

With a snort, Y/N poked his stomach and rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s only fair I return the favor.”

“Can’t wait, love.”

[twofacedtrickery]

({retroactively visible to everyone})

The pair of Insurgents were sitting together, completely unremarkable to the scattered other patrons. The taller of the two, Lasho was its name though it had yet to settle into the name in the months since it had been gifted, had all but forgotten about its food almost as soon as it arrived, remembering to eat several bites at a time only periodically. It was far more focused on the man sitting across from it, staring with barely masked wonderment at him, head full of excited ideas about what he might have in mind for the rest of the day.

The Professor hadn't noticed his partner's staring, or maybe he just didn't care, setting his cutlery down to break the comfortable silence after finishing the main portion of his lunch. "Well, angel," he looked at it calmly, resting his hand on its forearm where its tattoo was, "how did I do?"

His partner's expression changed to one of confusion. It started to try to muster any kind of response when he clarified.

"My speech, love. What did you think of it?"

It paused for a moment, the first responses that came to it were not quite appropriate to give. Effusive praise would draw too much attention if done incorrectly and might come off as not very genuine, and the confused "it was fine" would have been too nonspecific and dismissive. "I really like that you can give them ideas on things to strive toward without making them feel bad about themselves. It was well constructed, and you looked and sounded very nice when you spoke." The words were a little stilted, it was easier to be affectionate behind a screen than to his face, the words and acts would not come naturally, despite many efforts to change that, but its admiration was palpable.

The Professor hummed contentedly when he heard their approval, "I'm very glad to hear that. I was talking about you, after all."

It froze when he said that, brain reeling.

"I do think it was quite inspiring, myself. You really are remarkable."

It felt its throat burn and its face flush, but it forced itself to keep listening. It wanted to bolt and never be seen again, but it stayed itself.

"Truly, I think your virtues are very much worth celebrating. Dedicating a few minutes of my time to sharing them is the least I could do."

The words he had all but shouted from his lectern, it refused to think of it as a pulpit, hours prior echoed in its head, the added context making it feel as though it had been caught in the floodlights, blinded and unable to escape. "Thank you, Professor," it managed to choke out, almost off a rote script, as it shrank back in its seat.

"Happy birthday, my darling angel and muse." He slid his hand down its forearm to grasp it's hand, "Shall we?"

It glanced down at its mostly uneaten food, having lost any appetite it had before, "I..."

He cocked his head very slightly, "Are you alright?"

"I think," it started very slowly, trying to come up with an excuse as it spoke, "I think something just didn't agree with me."

The Professor furrowed his brow, somewhat disappointed that he wouldn't be able to finish everything he had planned for it. "Oh, angel, let's get you home, then. Feel better and we can do it later."

His partner could only nod to respond, following his lead as they went to pay and leave. The mask it had been shakily holding up in front of its shame fell away the moment they were outside and the Professor's attention was elsewhere.

[jcbbby]

thank you @quinnsbower for this idea! xoxo <3 I wrote this as if Henry maybe defeated Eleven, or if Eleven peaced tf out after escaping with him following the massacre.

I'm sorry it's kind of short, and lowkey the beginning is ASS and probably too much description. I think it gains traction halfway through lol. hopefully this is otherwise nice to read!

***

The news channels were running wild. It was unusual to see such chaos being broadcast, since Hawkins had always been a sleepy town. Nothing ever happened here. Apparently there was some tragedy down at Hawkins Lab. Not much was known yet, but the news anchor had mentioned a coroner was there and no one was being allowed in to the building. You sat on the couch watching it unfold.

The scenes from outside the lab were bleak. Countless stretchers covered in white sheets were being wheeled out. A bruised and bloodied man in a three piece suit stood to the side, speaking to the police. The anchorwoman mentioned that the man was Dr. Martin Brenner, the director of the lab. A press conference was said to begin any moment, before cutting to the live feed from outside the lab.

"Good afternoon. I am here to discuss details of the events that happened here at Hawkins International Laboratory earlier today. From what we have gathered, a male employee went on a gruesome rampage throughout the building. The number of casualties has not yet been determined, but there are a significant amount. It is believed that our main suspect is a 6 foot male with blonde hair and blue eyes, last known to be wearing a white shirt and white pants. A tattoo with the digits 001 can be seen on his left wrist. We would like the public to be aware that he is considered armed and dangerous. If you see him, do not approach. Call 911 immediately. This is all we have at this time, thank you." The police officer left the microphone and turned back to Dr. Brenner and a few other police officers.

An image of a young man, with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes was put up on the screen. The image looked like it was from some sort of identification badge. You felt slightly guilty for it, but you couldn't help but find him attractive. And those eyes were gorgeous, you couldn't deny it, there was something about them...You wondered what was going on behind them.

The following day, most people were still on edge. The culprit had still not been found. You went on about your day, going to work at the local movie theatre, which was much quieter than usual for a Saturday. After you shift had finished and you changed out of your work uniform, you headed back home, walking your usual route through a wooded area. You liked the woods, it was peaceful and gave you quiet space for introspection, as well as seclusion. You often spent time in the woods after work smoking or drinking to unwind a little. Something your mother certainly wouldn't approve of.

Sitting on a fallen log, you dropped your bag next to you, fumbling around for your flask and the book you were currently reading. You took a swig, wincing as it slid down your throat with a soft burn. From behind you, you heard movement and twigs snap. You whipped your head towards the source of the sound. Nothing.

"...Hello?" You called out. No answer.

Against your better judgement, you slowly got up, walking deeper into the wood. Your heartrate increased, feeling like you weren't alone. Suddenly, you felt an incredible force. It lifted you off the ground, pinning you to a tree. You shrieked, terrified and confused. Then, out of the shade, he emerged. Blonde, dressed in white, covered in blood. His arm was outstretched in front of him, out at you. Was he holding you like this without touching you? You couldn't contain your panicked whimpers and pleading.

"Quiet." He growled, his voice warm and deep.

"P-p-please...I was just walking home. Please..." You cried.

He tilted his head slowly, his eyes dark and cold. He looked you up and down, analyzing. He noticed the flask, still clutched in your hand.

"Give me the flask, and I'll let you go. You never saw me." He hissed.

"It's yours, it's yours. I never saw you, I promise!"

He slowly lowered you back to the ground. You collapsed to your knees, quivering with fear and trying to steady your breathing. He approached you with heavy footsteps and took the flask from your hand. Without a word or reaction, he unscrewed the top and chugged its contents. You cautiously stood up, brushing the dirt from your knees. You stared at him.

"Y-You're...him, aren't you?" You breathed. "From that lab?"

He threw the empty flask off to the side, stepping menacingly toward you. "What if I am?"

You stood frozen. "I...I just...why did you...?" You asked, your voice not able to go above a whisper.

He was now inches from you. He was so intimidating, but so handsome. His eyes stared deeply into yours. They held such anger and hatred, but you felt as though you could see the human beneath that. A sad, hurt, frightened human who just wanted to be free. It sent a shock through your chest.

"They thought they could control me...they thought they could make the rules." His eyes narrowed. "They imprisoned me. Physically, mentally...in their own pathetic, selfish world." He spat. "Now..."

Your breath hitched as he reached to your hair, carefully removing a leaf that had stuck between the strands before letting it fall to the ground.

"...you never saw me." He glared and turned to walk deeper into the woods.

Watching him disappear into the trees, you continued to breathe deeply and try to make sense of what just happened. You wanted to follow him. You wanted...to help him? Without a second thought, you started after him, forgetting your belongings still sitting on the tree. When you caught up with him, he had come to a small stream. He had started removing his white button up, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. He bent down, splashing the water on to his face, using the inside of his button up, free from the blood stains, to scrub the old, dried blood from his face. He put his hands back in the water, bringing them back up to run them through his hair, slicking it back. You stared, finding him almost angelic. Graceful and enchanting. Though knowing what he had done, he was far from an angel. Perhaps a fallen angel.

You adjusted your stance and under your feet, leaves crunched. The man snapped his neck in your direction, looking surprised to see you. He stood up and lowered his head, staring at you through his eyebrows.

"I thought I made myself clear." He growled.

You swallowed. "I..I uh..."

"Would you like to join the others? Do you want to be like them?" He began to walk toward you like a lion stalking prey.

"N-no...I just...I wanted-" You stuttered.

"What? You wanted what?" He was now flush against you, staring down at you.

"I...don't know." You felt tears welling up as you whimpered softly, buzzing in his overwhelming presence. "I don't know. I want to help."

He reached a hand up to wipe a tear from you cheek. "Oh you poor, sweet thing...no one can help me."

You didn't reply, you didn't know what you were getting yourself into. He stared into you deeply for a moment as you felt your body tense. His eyes almost had you hypnotized. Looking you up and down once, he took a step back.

"What's your name?" He asked, suddenly taking a more friendly tone.

"Y/N" You squeaked out.

"I'm Henry." He smiled wickedly. "So Y/N, how did you think you could help me?"

"I'm not sure...you just seem...like a lost soul."

"Lost?" He scowled. "No, I know exactly who I am."

"...so tell me, then. That's what I want." You suddenly felt a wave of bravery. "I want to know: who are you?"

He smirked, bending down to bring his lips to your ear. "I'm a god of this world." He whispered.

You shivered as his warm breath gently brushed across your earlobe. He pulled back, stepping backward, still grinning wickedly at you. He raised his arm out in front of him. Suddenly, your feet rose from the ground again. You gasped as you felt yourself drifting closer to him, until you were face to face, meeting him at his height.

"You may not be able to help me, but every god needs someone to worship him." His voice was gruff, he reached up to cup your cheek. "Would you do that?"

Your breath was heavy. It was like he had you in a trance. "Yes. Yes I will." You breathed.

"Good." He leered at you, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Good girl."

[thx-sunsxts-addrxss]

8,10,15,20,24,27?

tysm for the ask, I was hoping someone would ask this! assuming this is for the ‘nosy’ ask game, imma answer what I can:

8: yep! I want to get a sun tattoo and if possible, a butterfly tattoo. both small tho. I really don’t think my parents would allow it but yeah.

10: yes again! my sister has piercings and I find them really cool. I want a second and third pair of piercings (emphasis on pair) I also know my parents will approve of this, since my sister got them, so this is more likely to happen.

15: well. for this, I really don’t know. it changes every two seconds, so I can’t answer this one properly. rn it’s encanto bc I rewatched it last week.

20: uhhhh random, but I’ll answer this one. what I hate most about myself is that I feel like my mind tries so hard to convince myself to be like other people and it’s hard bc I’m always contradicting myself on it. I know I’m unique and I know I should just be myself, but my mind always tries to convince myself that to be likeable, I should be like someone else. Uh yeah. An internal war basically.

24: it’s…fine ig. It’s not like they don’t love me, I know they do, but at times, they “unknowingly” do something that makes me upset. Sometimes my mom compares me to someone else my age group, thinking she’s encouraging me to do the same. In reality, it just discourages me more and then causes my internal war to continue. Some times when she has a bad day, she has a short temper where a normal mistake causes her to yell at me, and I’m an easy crier, so I cry. Then she yells at me even more for “crying at the littlest things” and makes me feel even more bad. Then the next day she’s completely normal and doesn’t apologise or anything, making me even more pissed.

27: lmfao Ik this is probably one of my mutuals curious abt lemon dude. He’s Indian, South Indian actually. A Malayali. But he knows Hindi, Malayalam and a little Tamil bc I taught him some. He’s relatively tall, has dark hair and brown eyes (typical ik) and is hygienic (HUGE GREEN FLAG GUYS) he’s calm and chill, kind actually, a little shy at the start (GREEN FLAGS GREEN FLAGS) and isn’t that popular. Nice guy overall.

if anyone was wondering, it’s this ask game! Ask me more questions please!

[breakingbobcat]

cartilaginous

this morning I'm thankful for *the awesome cool weather*

my dreams were a little different last night. and i felt different in them. it was...interesting. thank you, brain! "you light up my life"

that was a good song, though, simply the best is stuck in my head already. thank god! the kinks lola is such an earworm and that's been playing non-stop since yesterday. brain: you are like a radio station and a set of speakers playing multiple channels at once.

I need a tuner! hahahaha! That's what's missing from my Arecibo setup. Or no...what's that place with the many radio telescopes? that place that is no longer top o' the line?

how much of my imagination runs on the fuel of the film "contact"?

I am SO IMPRESSIONABLE. i literally listen to everything that comes across my purview. what a mess! and I give too much weight to the masthead.

that's the person who is my captain? or something.

do we need to accept that love can be sexless and embrace this lifestyle? then we agreed that we need to allow ourselves to embrace uncertainty.

people can change. i can be somehow both flexible and yet...what is resilience?

i just keep seeing wheat blowing in the wind. taller than grass. more substantive. grass holds the soil down and keeps it together...but i always wanted to be nutriative.

furniture nutrition. even if i could talk to Salvador, he probably couldn't give me the conversation i'd desire. it'd be a weird translation situation of the gelatinous utterances, like how i would translate melanie ward. which could be fun actually because she was...really likeable. i really like her. i hope she is well.

i forgive her for being a desireable sex pot. she's more than she appears, and also, EXACTLY who she appears to be. isn't that ambiguity so strange about people?

wheat. will i dare to draw today? if only my imagination could transmit itself directly to the page.

i'm so competitive. i'm constantly afraid if i'm not the absolute best that i will be rejected. i need someone to stamp an A on my forehead everyday along with a gold foil star.

maybe i should get one gold star tattooed over my third eye. lol.

i'm such a basket case. i'm really blessed that Roy loves me. i love him too, deeply. he's such a caring teddy bear. i want to do more than appreciate. i think i reciprocate pretty well but...i'm ashamed of myself for not providing equal care and equal resources. i hate being the burden of the household.

brian made me feel like such a burden, even though i provided so much for him in return. in his mind, he was master.

it's hard to accept that roy doesn't feel the same way. roy hides things underneath. all librans do. they stuff their feelings and ignore them until one day the switch flips. librans are dangerous people because they over-self-regulate. they think they can regulate everyone else too.

woah. i didn't know i thought that! hmm. it's too bad librans are the only people who can tolerate me for any length of time.

is there some way for me to be more independent? and to be less a pain in the ass? roy swears he's not but i flat out don't believe him.

just like i don't believe motel fox isn't chris joslyn. yet, i could be wrong on both counts. hell: ALL COUNTS.

i'm SO WRONG ALL THE TIME! cue the Avett Bros.

lmao! so stop thinking you can predict the future with accuracy calypso! just because often you are right, doesn't mean always.

sometimes, just sometimes, you will be surprised. and that could be good. either way: CHANGE IS INEVITABLE. and not just entropy. remember: there's no rebirth without decay and death.

oh my god. OH. MY. GOD! i guess this must be the most efficient universe.

i wonder if it's different on other planets? i wonder if there's a world where living things don't have to consume each other? it makes me sad that life must always surrender to life. in my utter ignorance and non-all-knowingness, i do not approve.

i wish there was room in the garden for every one, and every thing.

i wish serial killers could be fascinated by the blood and not need to kill to get to it.

i love me. calypso is an unusual gem. she is allowed to talk about herself in the third person, second person...any person she wishes! she's a maverick. a fool. a young thug.

[lazynoodlepuff]

Sometimes I look at my mother and I can't comprehend how she can love me and support me in my depression, in me living abroad and with money so I can be a full time student and yet

And yet more or less disapprove and be disgusted by who I am (queer) and what I belive (leftist stuff and inclusivity) or my tattoos (I'm gonna get cancer and die allegedly)

How can someone love you but not approve of you. Not accept you. How can someone live you and raise you with care and respect and then turn to passive aggressive sending you posts from people who hate who you are "just to consider it"

Can she not see the cobtradiction? Does she not realise that the people her authorities hate are people like me?

How can you love me and say you support me but then silently disapprove? I see it in your eyes and your voice. I see it in things you send me. Sometimes you tell it to me directly

And I still love you and rely on you but I tried to change your mind. I tried so hard but you don't listen to me you don't belive me. You strangers online who use pseudo scientific language but you don't belive me. I try to talk to you but it only cause me distress and leads nowhere, you listen as I speak but you don't hear me.

So I give up

And I love you and you love me but not the whole me. Not the parts of me you choose to not see and the parts of me I learned to hide

You look at people like me and you sneer with disapproval at their open queerness

You tell me directly you disapprove of my vaccines and that covid wasn't real

You repeat racist moral panics to me

You sit next to a friend telling the most outrageous conspiracy theories and you nod thoughtfully because "there might be something to it"

And I have to wonder when did you change so much? You used to be one of the smartest most inquisitive people I know. You liked science and history and art and you were thinking critically about things. Or so I thought with my mind of a child

You said you lived me no matter what, even if I fail at school or go to preason

Tonight you sent me an article about homosexuality being caused by the lack of zinc and copper

When did this happen? I don't live with you anymore and you are changing more than I know. In a way maybe it all kead to rhis with your alternative welness obsessions and yet

I always thought you were better than fall for that, belive people who know how to use few smart words and make you scared or "just asking questions"

Maybe getting you a Facebook account was the biggest mistake of my life. It's always Facebook links you send me, I know there's a lot that radicalised you

And we can still talk. About food, about weather, about freinds we have. Or at least your friends, I rarley tell you about mine anymore. They are thsoe "gay agenda" queers you disapprove, they are like me.

I avoid talking to you about society of politics when I can,it never ends well. It's always me who ends up feeling like shit and distressed.

I love you Mom and I don't understand how can you love me, or say that you do (I know you do) but hold so much contempt for me (people like me)

I know how it happened, or I think I do, I know how radicalisation happens but I don't understand how it happend to you.

Maybe if I didn't move abroad and leave you alone it wouldn't have happened

But again, maybe it would. Maybe it wpuld have pulled me in too

I love you and but I don't understand how can you love me but not who I am

[micahthemoon]

December 31 2023 It’s New Years eve, the last day of the year. And what a year! I’ve experienced so many great things in my transgender journey this year. To honor those accomplishments, I’ve dedicated today’s entry to highlighting one post from each month and what I consider the most significant experience, good or bad. Here’s to a new year full of yet more great opportunities to grow, to learn to love myself and find myself. Micah is checking out. See you in 2024.

January = Sickleave I was not-forced-but-kinda-forced to go on sick leave from applying to jobs. Honesty, I fear that starting therapy would ruin my chances of starting hormones someday. But I don’t think I can wait any longer. I might need to bite the bullet and find a therapist. Pray to whoever that this doesn’t take away the progress I made in medically transitioning. Or worse make people invalidate my gender identity because ‘Mentally Ill ™’ (01/04)

February= Second appointment and BMI wakeup call After four months of waiting, I finally had my second appointment at the gender clinic! All went well except the scales. I don’t own a scale at home – I won’t risk hating myself more because of a number. Thing is, I am around 15-20 kg heavier than six years ago and at least 5 kg too heavy for top surgery atm- And I fell into my own trap of feeling horrible about my body because of it. (02/14)

March = Legally changed gender It happened! I finally got the message that my gender id is legally changed now! It feels so surreal! I’m honestly filled with so much adrenalin I didn’t even have time to second guess writing to my Banks, insurance and other important systematic institutions in need of the news! Gah, I want It all to be fixed now but it takes time and really, I am just overjoyed! (03/02)

April = Starting minoxidil First day using minoxidil!! I got it yesterday yet decided it would be fitting starting on a Monday. My daily routines are getting so crowded now both including minoxidil and tattoo aftercare. I think it’s a good thing in terms of making a routine to when I hopefully get testosterone. By then hopefully I’ve learned from all my past mistakes – like this morning where I put minoxidil on before eating my breakfast. Take it from me, minoxidil doesn’t taste great. (04/17)

May = Third appointment, reached weight goal You know you’ve mastered your mascara game when your gender therapist is wondering out loud whether you’ve started HRT without him knowing. I really enjoy how confused my mascara beards can make people. But alright back to the gender identity clinic appointment I had today. It went well better than I’d expected and if all goes well, I might be able to start testosterone way earlier than I’d expected too. And the cherry on top I am now under the cut off weight for top surgery!!! (05/15)

June = Starting a positive relationship to my body (image) Something strange happened when I was going to bed yesterday. For some random reason I started feeling my torso and I didn’t feel disgust about it? I touched every little bit of stomach, waist, and hips to figure out why it felt this neutral maybe even good suddenly. I have never liked how this part of me felt or looked so this was such a surreal experience. The feeling disappeared as quickly again when I lay down, but it did make me want to try to do some morning stretches. Success, I guess? (06/01)

July = Getting my gender validated by somebody I trust Today the camper that has been here the longest (she had 20th anniversary this year) told me that back when we first met, she couldn’t connect with me. Like I had a wall up to the world. Now that wall was gone, and she could finally see me. And she almost felt attracted to who I was now. Coming from her this means so much to me. I might not need people’s permission to transition but at the same time knowing what I do seems right to others is a huge relief. Thank you so much for telling me. (07/20)

August = An almost-approval for HRT I got the answer from the gender clinic about t. The answer is ‘maybe?’. One person was on holiday, and he needs to look at my case before the team can approve it. Don’t get me wrong I’m glad that everybody else seemed on board. However, I am a bit annoyed given that the team knew when they’d discuss my case for two months and they didn’t make sure everybody was present. Or at least let me know beforehand if not everybody could be present, so I wouldn’t get nervous without reason. (08/10)

September = An actual approval for HRT Guys!! GUYS!!!! It happened!! I am now gotten approved for testosterone!!! I am so happy I spend way too long trying to make an ig post about it!!! Sure, I still must wait for preparation appointments and blood tests and all of that but just knowing I am officially approved and on my way to get started is amazing. I even bought myself a celebratory licorice even tho I try not to snack (felt only half bad eating it)!!! (09/11)

October = Participating in baseline meassurements for HRT study I was at some pre-t tests for a study I’m participating in. We went through different physical tests, muscle strength, lung capacity together with scans of the heart and bones. Overall, it was alright especially given how awkward I’ve felt about the EKKO scan of the heart (first time since my ex I had no shirt on in front of another). What ended up being the worst was the CT because I got the dizziness side effects from the drug, they gave us. Glad I did the test but wow I am tired now. (10/31)

November = Starting HRT And so it starts fr. Here is my first (if not counting the pre-t one) testosterone update!!! I think I should maybe for the next ones try to do it before doing my mascara beard just to see if you can see any difference in my 'clean face' over time. (11/23)

December = Finding new way to measure voice pitch I got myself a new toy: a voice pitch analyzer app!! I was suggested this app by a trans friend as another fun way to document my transition and so I just tried it to make a sort of late baseline. It says my pitch is on average 173-178 hz (depending on language) which is in the female range (feminine voices tend to be classified as between 165-255 hz while men’s around 85-155; I googled it). Looking forward to seeing the changes over time. Maybe it can become a tool for gender euphoria! (12/17)

[vxntagedior]

Hi! I was wondering if it would be possible to do a Vinnie request where Vinnie meets the readers parents for the first time. Maybe the parents are judgmental (but not mean) at first and reluctant to approve of Vinnie because they see all his tattoos and stuff. Then they see how well he treats the reader and change their opinion? If you can do it I completely understand! Thanks!

protective

summary | your parents are skeptical about vinnie when they first meet him

pairing | vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warning | fluff, angst, hard exterior parents who just want the best for their child

word count | 1.1k

Vinnie never really believed in never judging a book by its cover in correlation to people, until he met your parents.

To most people they seemed like super strict parents, having your location, knowing who they were going out with, a set curfew but to you, it was a sense of protectiveness. There was never anything bad with your relationship with them, they supported you during school, even helped you move to LA when you decided that your desired career wasn’t something you were interested in, it was being an influencer. 

Yes there were the comments about how it would support you through the rest of your life but they were happy that you found something you loved.

The thought of dating was a sour subject between you and your parents, they were both very traditional. Go to school, graduate, find a good job, start dating, eventually get married and settle down and have children.

Your mother always said don’t go out of order, and for the most part you were on track. And now freshly 20, you were scared to bring your boyfriend home.

Your parents knew about you dating, you spoke about Vinnie a few times whenever you caught up with them, they knew the two of you were together for about 9 months but they still hadn’t met him yet. 

Your dad’s birthday was soon approaching and your mother wanted you to come and surprise him and bring Vinnie along so they could meet him. Your initial reaction was shocked, you didn’t expect your parents to be the ones to ask for Vinnie to come, assuming you were going to be on the one to hopefully bring him home during the next holiday.

Both of you were in shock, Vinnie was scared about your parents reaction to him, everyone knew Vinnie was a sweet guy but your initial thought of him from the exterior and his resting bitch face (the one that he doesn’t have but you always says he does). 

“What do I wear?” He asked you, coming out of the closet. “Is the party going to be inside, or outdoors, should it be more laid back or business casual?”

“Baby.” You said. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t need you to be someone else, just be yourself. 

“That doesn’t make it any better!” He exclaimed. You laughed, seeing how he started acting like a teenage girl. 

As the days started to approach sooner and sooner, and a good talk from his mom, Vinnie started to calm down more, not feeling as panicked as a few days ago. 

The day of flight, driving to the airport, you and Vinnie said in the back of Thomas’s car, Vinnie’s grip on your hand tighter than usual. It had been the first time he was going to meet parents that weren’t any of his friends and he was scared shitless. 

“They’re going to love you.” You whispered once more, landing in your hometown, making your way out of the plane and coming down to pick up the luggage.

The airport was fairly empty in the early morning, seeing your parents quickly near the baggage claim waiting for the two of you.

Vinnie made his way to pick up the bags, giving himself one more pep talk before walking towards you and your parents.

You noticed first before your parents did, dislodging yourself from your dad’s arms to grab your bag.

“Mom, dad, this is Vinnie, my boyfriend.” It was a simple introduction, you smiling sweetly. Vinnie made his way to shake their hands, both of them introducing themselves and he could already tell they truly didn’t like him that much. 

The ride home was awkward, your parents in front of the car practically interrogating Vinnie.

“So what is it you do?” Your father asked.

“I’m a content creator, I post these short video clips and play video games online.” He tried to answer in the simplest way possible to your parents without confusing them.

“Do you attend any college?” Your mom asked. Education was always important to her saying it was a key factor in your life.

“No, I knew that college wasn’t something for me.” The way your mother just hummed made you wince knowing that was a few points off for Vinnie. 

No one spoke on the way to your childhood room, grabbing your bags and bringing Vinnie up to your room before your parents could say anything else.

Your mother started dinner when the two of you came downstairs, both of you offering her help, which she kindly denied, offering Vinnie to go into the living room with your dad.

“Say it.” You sighed once Vinnie was out of the room.

“Say what?” She retorted, standing over the stove, mixing together the sauce for the pasta.

“Don’t be a coy mom.” You just wanted her to get over her grudge and tell you what she really thought about Vinnie.

“The tattoos Y/n.” She finally confessed. “You’re both 19.” 

“I have tattoos mom.” You furrowed your brows.

“In a place that isn’t noticeable, I don’t think your boss is looking at your bare back.” She said, “What is his future boss gonna think when he walks into an interview with a sleeve full of tattoos.”

“It’s not 1980 anymore.” You giggled. “I know sometimes it’s a shock but Vinnie is sweet, and he treats me well, isn’t that what you always wanted?”

Your mom sighed, knowing you were right, that she wanted a man with a good heart to be with you. “I’m sorry that I was hard on him.”

“It’s okay.” You kissed her cheek. “I love you momma.”

“Love you too sweetie, can you go get the boys.”

The sound of the tv blared, you turned the corner seeing your boyfriend and your dad cheering over the baseball game.

“Hey.” You smiled, happy to see that the two of them were bonding. “Dinner is ready.”

“Thanks sweetheart.” Your dad said. “You know Vinnie knows his way around a baseball game, never told me that.”

“Didn’t know it was a necessity.” You laughed.

Your dad was the first to leave the living room, leaving you and Vinnie.

“Everything good?” You questioned, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Totally doesn’t hate me so I just gotta charm your mom.”

“I already got that covered.” You said. “They’re just-”

“Protective.” He finished for you. “I’d do the same if our daughter brought someone home like me.”

“Our daughter?” You murmured.

“‘Course baby, you and me forever, I got your parents to like me, I’m not going anyway.” He smiled, pulling you off the couch going into the dining room.

fin.

[merakiui]

Tsaritsa's personal handmaiden is an AMAZING au,

How do you think the harbingers would react seeing darling fighting (someone like the traveler or at least someone sorta powerful thats not in the fatui) or seeing her face for the first time because it fell by accident, or her mask falling down (because it was sorta loose) during a fight.

I don’t remember if the tsaritsa saw her face but what was her reaction when she first interacted with darling before making her, her personal handmaiden and how did she react when she found out that darling can fight?

And why did the darling apply to be a handmaiden for the tsaritsa, is because of money for her family or something else?

Just call me🌿

Their opinions are bound to change after they've witnessed your combat abilities firsthand. Childe will definitely want to spar with you or, at the very least, reach a level of martial prowess where he catches your attention and gains your approval. Dottore could spend hours picking apart your fighting style and determining how you might fare against machines rather than other human beings or Vision wielders. He's still wondering if you have a Vision or if that's simply your raw power. When she was alive, Signora admired your strength and grace. You could hold your own in a battle while also following the schedule carefully laid out for you, never wasting a single moment. Always on time for Her Majesty.

I like to think that, as intrigued as he may be, Capitano might be the only Harbinger who would shield you if your mask fell. He respects your faceless nature, as he himself also wears a mask for his own reasons, so he understands that you may not be too keen on showing your face to other people. Pierro or Pulcinella might also help you fit your mask back on if it’s fallen, but if they manage to sneak a glance who can blame them? Curiosity has spread its poisonous roots into all of them. The other Harbingers will quietly admire the brief sight from afar, blessed to have witnessed something so rare. They’ll tattoo your image into their minds so they’ll never forget it.

The Tsaritsa didn’t have much of an opinion of you first. You were quiet and unassuming, a demure force who didn’t strike much of an impressive figure. Nevertheless, she saw a certain drive in you. To brave the frigid temperatures of Snezhnaya, to devote yourself to her in a land you were previously unfamiliar with, and to swear to silence whilst in her presence... These things intrigue her, especially the latter. As cold as she may be, she is also a lonely soul who yearns for the warmth that company brings. She assigns certain tasks to you to gauge how well you handle them. She has you deliver reports and briefings to the Harbingers when her usual messengers are occupied. She slowly builds some form of rapport with you with each interaction, and even though you aren’t very talkative she enjoys the moments where your true personality shines through and you give her a rare smile or an even rarer laugh.

She’s pleased to know you can fight. Having the capability to protect yourself and those around you is another factor she considers while mulling over whether or not to promote you as her personal handmaiden. Eventually, one wintry evening, you kneel before her as she officially declares your new role. Your days of being a common servant in Zapolyarny Palace come to an end, and a new chapter of your life begins.

I think the handmaiden’s reasons for joining can be up to your own interpretation! There are many ways it can go. You could be there for espionage purposes, putting on a convincing act as you take in all sorts of secret intel. You could have joined simply for money if your loved ones are having financial issues. You could have joined for some form of revenge—perhaps a Harbinger is to blame for something that happened to one (or more) of you loved ones and you want to get as close to them as possible before getting revenge. Or maybe you were pressured to find a well-paying job and the Fatui seemed like the easiest profession to resort to. Either way, depending on the handmaiden’s reasons for joining, the situations that occur can be vastly different!

[leia505]

The Sunrise and Your Sins | Tetsurou Kuroo x Reader (street racing AU)

This fic takes place in the same universe as “deciphered” by @hoeneymilktea​! Here is the link to the car visuals and spotify playlist, as well as AO3 where the fic is also posted if you prefer to read on there. 

Huge shoutout to @aikk00​ for creating the fan art that inspired both this story and “deciphered”. 

And another shoutout to @hoeneymilktea​ for pushing me to write this fic, if you’re here from deciphered I hope you enjoy this addition to the deciphered universe! 

Pairing: Tetsurou Kuroo x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW(later chapters)  

Word Count: 10k

Tags: Street Racing, Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Inspired by Fanart, References to Drugs, Aged-Up Character(s), Original Character(s), Inspired by The Fast and the Furious, Inspired by Tokyo Drift, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Mystery, Drama & Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Being a mob boss’s daughter had always been a dangerous life, but Tetsurou Kuroo—street racer and mob henchman—made it all seem easy. Although the mutual attraction between you two was undeniable, the darkness that encompassed your family took precedence over your love. Surrounded by lies and deception, you and Kuroo must work together to uncover the truth of your brother’s death and your father’s shady business.

“Hey there kitten.”

“Is that really how you want to talk to a yakuza boss’ daughter?”

“It’s not like your old man’s here to listen.” Kuroo says, pulling up a chair to sit close to you. You turned your head to stare him in the eyes as he smirked at you.

“You think a man like my father doesn’t have his own office wired?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

Kuroo chuckles nervously, looking around your dad’s office. Just some harmless flirting boss. Nothing to worry about here.” He says loudly, turning to you with a wink. You can’t help but smile, you’ve always enjoyed the times Kuroo came to see your father. You weren’t going to try to deny the fact you found him attractive, but there’s no way your father would allow it. A mafia princess and a drug smuggler? What a cliché.

Your father’s sudden entrance startles you both, and Kuroo instinctively stands up to bow. You remain seated, knowing that the power he held over this city applied to everyone but you.

“Hello father.” You greet your dad as he sits in his office chair at the front of the room. He definitely has a demanding presence, which is to be expected from the man who has the Tokyo underground in his pocket. Kuroo had power, and definitely had some authority, but he was a guppy compared to your father.

“Sit, Tetsurou.” Your father says, motioning for Kuroo to take a seat. He quickly sits down in his chair, attentively looking at the mafia boss for further instructions.

“So, as you could probably guess, I have another job for you.” He says, pulling a file out from the locked cabinet of his desk. He laid the file open in front of him and turned to Kuroo. “There will be a shipping container coming in this Friday from Cuba. I’m going to need a team of your best racers to get it from point A, the ports, to point B, headquarters.” He explains, motioning for Kuroo to stand next to him to look over the details.

“Seems easy enough, standard job.” Kuroo says, studying the papers in front of him. At this moment, you can’t help but wonder to yourself why exactly you’re there.

“Exactly. Nothing new, just the same old.” Your dad agrees. “However, this is a bigger job. And we do have some eyes watching us nowadays. So what I need from you is to take the lead and choose your team. Approved by me, of course.” He says, motioning for Kuroo to take his seat again.

“How many people are we talking?” Kuroo asks.

“You, maybe two others. And your colleague, Snake Eyes, taking the lead on logistics.” Your father explains, leaning back in his chair. “Snake Eyes will be essential to this one, we need eyes and ears on the route. The less run-ins with the authorities, the better.”

‘Snake Eyes.’ You thought to yourself. ‘Isn’t that Kenma? The nerdy looking mechanic?’

“I’ll let Kozume know.” Kuroo says, nodding. “I think Oikawa and Shinsuke would be a good fit for this one. Fast, experienced, trustworthy.”

“Oikawa…he’s the one that calls himself Cypher correct?” You father questions.

“Yes sir, head of Seijoh Brawlers. Shinsuke goes by Sly Fox, head of Inarizaki Bois.”

Your dad let out a hearty chuckle, startling both of you. “You kids and your code names. You would think you’re playing spy.” Kuroo nervously chuckled in agreement.

“No playing here sir, we’re all in.” Kuroo says, giving him a confident grin.

“That’s what I like to hear, Tetsurou. With that attitude, you’ll fit right in at the grown-up table.” Your father says, getting up from his chair. You roll your eyes, bored of the conversation between the two criminals. 

“Why am I here?” You ask, causing both of them to turn to you as if they just realized you were there. You rarely sat in on your father’s meetings, so you were confused from the start as to what your purpose was.

“Oh sweetheart! I almost forgot, Kuroo has a present for you.” Your father says brightly, waving his arms at you, motioning for you to follow Kuroo out the door.

You peered your eyes at Kuroo suspiciously as he smirked at you. You continued to follow him out the door of your family’s Tokyo home, with your father following behind you.

As the three of you exit the house, your eyes fall on a bright pink car, with a giant white ribbon tied around the hood.

“Is that-“You begin saying, quickening your pace to get closer to this absolute beauty.

“A Honda S2000? Yes, yes, it is.” Kuroo says, leaning against his car, a cherry red Nissan Veilside 350Z. He holds up a pair of car keys, which he tosses to you.

“It’s mine?!” You exclaim. You turn to your dad, who smiles warmly at you.

“A gift, from the Nekoma crew to our family. Me and your mother have enough cars, so I figured you could claim this one.” He explains, chuckling.

“Thank you!” You wrap your arms around him, embracing your father in a hug. He tightly hugs you back, the same way he always has. You turn towards Kuroo. “And thank you, you and the whole Nekoma crew. How’d you know I wanted pink?”

Kuroo shrugs. “I just guessed. Seemed like your color.” He says, winking at you. He slyly opens his car door, climbing in. “Thursday night, I’ll bring the team?” He asks, turning towards your dad.

“Yes, and make sure they bring their cars as well. I need to see for myself what type of speed we’re working with.” Your dad says, switching into business mode seamlessly.

Kuroo lets out a laugh, closing his car door and rolling his window down. “I can promise you sir, the one thing we will surely not be lacking is speed.” He says, revving his engine, speeding out of the driveway and down the dark street. The roar of his engine could be heard long after he disappeared from our sight, breaking the silence of the upper-class neighborhood he sped through.

“Sweetheart, Tetsurou and his boys are here if you’d like to sit in on the meeting.” Your father says, peeking his head into your room. 

“I’ll be right down dad.” You reply, getting up from your bed. You heard their cars coming from miles away, so you were already prepared to meet them downstairs. You were curious as to why your father suddenly invited you to sit in on his business meetings, he never really allowed you to take part in your family’s activities. Nevertheless, you were glad you finally had something to keep you entertained while locked away in your home. 

As you walked down the stairs, you heard Kuroo’s voice speaking to his friends, and you were caught off guard by how mature he sounded. He must have known you and your father were coming down the stairs, so he put his big boy voice on to impress your father. 

“Hi.” you say shortly, causing all of them to turn their heads to you. You finally got a good look at all of them, and they were all exactly what you’d expect street racers to look like. Piercings, tattoos, just a bunch of tough looking guys with skeptical faces as they looked up at you. 

“Is this the one you keep bringing up?” a guy with shoulder length bleached blonde hair asks, turning to Kuroo. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. It was a drastic change from Kuroo’s deep, commanding voice. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kuroo says, awkwardly clearing his throat, tugging at his collar as he avoided your gaze.

“Hola mami.” The brunette one says to you, shooting you a devilish smirk as you descend further down the stairs. 

“The fuck is wrong with this one?” You ask Kuroo, opting to stand next to him. You tilt your head towards the brunette guy, who was still staring at you like a luxury car. 

“He lived in Argentina for a few years and now he’s just...like that.” Kuroo says. “You kind of get used to it. He also doesn’t care that no one but him knows Spanish.” 

“Tetsurou! Glad you all made it here in one piece. Shall we move this to my office?” Your father says, waving his arm down the hall to the large double doors that lead to his office, the space where all meetings, illegal or otherwise, were held. 

The five of you made room for your father to lead and followed him down the hall. You were keenly aware of the fact Kuroo stood almost directly behind you, mainly because the smell of his cologne was too strong to ignore. Kuroo was just like that, a presence you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. 

Upon entering the office, you choose to take your usual spot on the comfortable sofa chair you put in your dad’s office over a decade ago. When you were younger, more naive to the truth to your father’s business and your family’s wealth, you frequently accompanied your father in his office on long work nights, falling asleep in the chair that was kept out of the way to keep others from taking your special spot. That’s always how your dad was, making sure to accommodate you. Anything for the princess. 

“So!” Your father announces, clapping his hands together, causing you and the blonde one to jump slightly. “Don’t be shy, introduce yourselves.” You roll your eyes at him, thinking that he sounded more like a grade school teacher than a yakuza boss with hundreds of skeletons in the closet. 

The 4 men stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not knowing how to start. Everyone except the silver haired guy wore a bomber jacket, with names printed on the back. The brunette wearing a white bomber jacket spoke first. You noticed the teal lettering on his jacket that read ‘CYPHER’. 

“Tooru Oikawa, sir. Cypher.” He says, bowing at your dad. 

“Uh, Kenma Kozume. People call me Snake Eyes sometimes.” the bleach blonde spoke next, his voice quiet and skeptical. 

“Kita Shinsuke, aka Sly Fox.” The silver haired guy in the plain black hoodie says, giving your father a slight head nod. 

“And obviously you know me.” Kuroo says. He turns to face you, flashing his signature grin. “Your turn.” 

“(y/n).” you introduce yourself, giving them a small wave. “If you haven’t figured out who I am then you’re pretty slow.” 

“My daughter, everyone. Excuse the attitude.” your father remarks, shaking his head at you. “So, I assume you filled them in on the details?” 

“Yes sir, they’ve all been filled in on the job. Kenma running point on logistics, the control tower of the team. The three of us running the cargo from the ports to the warehouse. Basic rules, don’t be dumb, and don’t get caught.” Kuroo says. The other men looked at him, nodding slightly in agreement. 

“Excellent, I knew I could count on you to take the lead here. Keep this up and you may find some more jobs like this in your future.” Your father gets up from his chair, pulling more files from his cabinet. He hands each of the men their own file, which they all take and begin looking over. “You’ll find all the smaller details in there, as well as numbers to contact in case you run into trouble. You’ll also find a receipt, with your pay for this job highlighted. I hope you find it accommodating to your work.” He says, studying each of them as they flip through the files. 

“Definitely accommodating.” Kita comments, nodding his head as he peers down at the file. You begin to wonder when you’ll be able to see the fine tuned details, to truly see everything your father does in a day. So much of who he is still remained a mystery to you, and perhaps you found some comfort in your own ignorance. 

“Thank you sir, our teams greatly appreciate your contributions.” Kuroo says, bowing once again to your father. 

“It’s really no problem, after all, who doesn’t like a good street race.” Your father says with a smile. “And, in a way, I feel as though keeping your teams afloat helps me remember my son.” 

“You have a son?” Oikawa asks, looking up. 

“Had a son, yes.” Your father replied sadly. You winced, not expecting to have to relive these memories. “He passed in a racing accident. It was a few years ago. I think it was before your kids’ time.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was his name? Or, what team was he on?” Kenma asks. 

“Keishin. He used the last name Ukai when he raced, to get away from our family name. I believe he raced for Karasuno?” Your dad says, bringing up more and more painful memories. 

“Karasuno Killers? They’re getting back on the scene nowadays. I remember someone talking about how they stopped coming to races a while back, but they just recently started racing again because they have a whole new team.” Kuroo says. 

“Really? Well, I might just have to come watch a race one of these days. For old times sake.” 

‘Old times sake my ass.’ you thought to yourself, knowing the truth about your father and your deceased brother’s relationship. Your father hated racing, and resented your brother for choosing Karasuno over the Sakanoshita name. At the time of your brother’s death, you couldn’t help but wonder if your father was truly upset, or if he was putting on another facade, the same way he was now. 

“Well, speaking of races, you wanted to see our cars, right?” Oikawa says, clearly trying to redirect this depressing conversation. 

“Oh yes, of course! I want to see for myself what you’re all going to be working with tomorrow.” Your father says, walking out of his office towards the front of the home. 

Outside, there were 3 cars parked in the driveway. You recognized the models, and you could guess which cars were Oikawa and Kita’s just from the colorways, white and black, just like their outfits. 

“Mi amor.” Oikawa says, looking at his car. “Mazda RX-7 Veilside Fortune. ‘97.” 

“He would marry his car if he could.” Kuroo comments, tilting his head towards you. You laugh, looking up at him. 

“Nissan Silvia. 2002.” Kita says, walking up to his car and opening the door. The smell of smoke was strong, and he grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the middle console. “Mind if I smoke?” Your father nods, and Kita proceeds to light one and take a puff. 

“Kenma, no car?” Your father asks, turning towards him. Kenma seems caught off guard by the sound of his own name. 

“Uh, no sir, not tonight. I have cars, but I don’t drive all that often. I don’t see the point in risking my investments.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Yeah, he’d rather be in the passenger seat with me driving and risking my car.” Kuroo says, playfully shoving Kenma’s shoulder. 

“That reminds me, I have a proposal for you Kuroo.” Your father says, getting everyone's attention. “Would you be willing to let (y/n) ride with you on this job?”

“Excuse me?” You say, interrupting the conversation. “Why am I going? You never let me go anywhere, but suddenly I’m running drugs for you?” You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms across your chest. 

“Well, sweetheart, I figured it was time.” Your father says, taking a step closer to stand in front of you. “I was around your age when your grandfather started allowing me to learn the ropes of our family’s business. You are the only one who can continue the Sakanoshita name. I think this is a good first job for you.” 

“For the record, it's no problem. She can ride with me. I promise she’ll be safe.” Kuroo says, inserting himself into the conversation between you and your father. 

“So, does this mean I finally have something to do? I can start leaving the house again?” You ask, hopeful that this decision from your father will mean more freedom. Things haven’t been the same since Keishin died, and your father kept you under a microscope, claiming it was for your safety. 

“We can talk about new safety rules after this job. Deal?” He asks, holding his hand out for you to shake. 

“Deal.” You say, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. 

“Looks like the princess is growing up.” Kuroo comments, smirking at you. 

“Hope we don’t scare her too much.” Kita says jokingly. 

You scoffed at him, excitement growing inside of you as you realized this will be the start of you growing into a leadership position in the Sakanoshita family, becoming the face of this giant organization that ruled the Tokyo underground. “Nothing scares me.” 

You stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to get your head together before the job. ‘What does a person bring to a drug smuggling? What does someone wear? Fucking jeans?’

‘No.’ you thought to yourself, grabbing a pair of leggings. What if you needed to run? Well then you need sneakers too. And a warm jacket, just in case. Do you bring a phone charger? Would it be weird to ask Kuroo to plug your phone in while you’re smuggling drugs together? 

“What the fuck am I doing.” You say out loud to yourself, beginning to question your own sanity. You let out a deep sigh, trying to clear your head. 

You eventually decide on leggings, sneakers, and a cross body fanny pack to hold your phone and smaller things. Before exiting your room, you hesitate. 

You make your way to your bedside table, opening the drawer and reaching to the back, pulling out a small handgun. You take it out, along with a note that was tucked underneath it. 

‘Stay safe. -Keishin’

This was a gift from your brother, before he passed. You kept it close by, both as protection and a heavy reminder. Your family name carried a lot of weight, which the both of you felt smothered by. You both understood the dark side of the luxury you lived with, saw the blood that stained your family’s money. But now, with him gone, it all fell on you. Everything depended on you. 

You make the decision to take it along with you, holstering it to your thigh. ‘Better safe than sorry’, you thought to yourself. A regular night could turn deadly in an instant, something that you were very familiar with given the way your brother passed. 

You exit your room and descend down the stairs, walking out the front door to where everyone was waiting with their cars. Oikawa was busy on his phone, and Kita was further away smoking a cigarette. Your father stood with Kuroo, most likely discussing the job. 

“Where’s Kenma?” You question, walking up to stand with Kuroo and your dad. 

“He’s back at the garage. Don’t worry, he has eyes and ears at us at all times.” Kuroo says, pointing at the earpiece he wore. “Here, one for you as well.” He hands you an ear piece, which you put in, immediately hearing the sounds of a video game, most likely from Kenma. 

“Are you ready?” Your father asks, turning towards you. You nod in response, and he looks over you, stopping and furrowing his eyebrows when he sees your gun. “Is a gun really necessary?”

“Keishin would have wanted me to bring it. Better safe than sorry, like he used to say.” You say, knowing that bringing up your brother was the easiest way to get your father to comply with whatever it was that you were doing. 

He nods, giving you a sad smile.  “You’re right. He was always the cautious one.” 

“The smart one too.” You say, smiling nostalgically. “Are we all ready to go?” You ask, turning to Kuroo. 

“Yup, all set.” He replies, swinging the passenger car door open for you. “I’ll have Snake Eyes let you know when we reach the ports, and again at the warehouse.” He says, turning to your father. 

“Perfect.” Your father says. He turns to look at you once more, then back at Kuroo. “Bring her back in one piece.” He says, holding out his hand. 

“You can count on me, sir.” He says, giving your father a firm handshake. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, the business your family was involved in was always so masculine, so formal. It was something you would have to adjust to when you begin taking part in it. 

Kuroo closed your car door and nodded to the other two racers, who immediately got into their cars, turning their engines one. He climbs into the driver’s seat of his car, turning the key in the ignition, the loud roar of the engine startling you. He chuckles, realizing he made you jump. 

“Mic check. Roll call.” You hear Kenma say in your ear. 

“Tap once to speak, twice to mute.” Kuroo says, pointing to the earpiece. He taps once, and speaks. “DK here, with Princess in the passenger seat.” He says, grinning at you. 

“Ew, keep it PG-13 dude.” Kenma says, making you laugh. 

“Cypher, ready to roll.” You hear Oikawa say. 

“Sly fox.” Kita says shortly. 

“And Snake Eyes. Ready when you guys are. All clear on the short route to the ports, I’ll let you know if that changes. Stay safe everyone.” Kenma says, muting himself. 

“Alright, we all know the route, I’ll take the lead, Sly Fox you take rear. You already know the rules, don’t be stupid, and don’t get caught. I’ll check back in when we’re 5 away from the ports.” Kuroo says, taking the parking brake off and switching gears, the car beginning to move. 

Everyone mutes themselves and begins driving off, away from your wealthy neighborhood and towards the city’s industrial district. The Tokyo skyline was in your rear view mirror, and your heart beat faster and faster as you went further away from your home, the place that you’ve been stuck in for years now. 

“You don’t get out much do you?” Kuroo asks, breaking the silence. 

“Not really, no. My father doesn’t allow me to go many places now, ever since my brother died. He says it’s too risky, which I think is bullshit.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. 

Kuroo laughs. “I knew you weren’t just some obedient princess. Look at you, all rebellious.” 

“I’d be more rebellious if I were able to do anything. This...is my first time out of the house in 6 months. The last time was just for the dentist.” You say, awkwardly laughing at yourself. 

“Well, then we better make the most of it, right?” Kuroo says, switching gears, now going 105 km/h on the expressway. 

“Kuroo what if we get pulled over?” You ask nervously, knowing the risks he was taking just to show off. 

“Relax, (y/n), I know what I’m doing.” Kuroo says, flashing his signature grin at you. Everything about him drew you in, made you want to keep looking, to reach out and know him as more than just your father’s employee. 

“Kuroo, stop showing off. Just because there’s a pretty girl in the car doesn’t mean that you get to be cocky.” Kenma says in your ear, catching you both off guard. 

“Alright alright, take it easy Snake Eyes.” Kuroo says, tapping his ear piece once, then double tapping again to mute. He begins slowing the car down to 80 km/h. 

You let out a small giggle, looking over at him. “You think I’m pretty?” You say in a mocking tone, leaning in closer to him. 

“I think you’re beautiful.” He says in a serious tone, catching you completely off guard. You begin to slowly back away from him, retreating back into your seat. 

“What?” You ask, not sure if you heard him right. 

“You’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so. As a matter of fact, if it wasn’t for my extremely deep fear of your father, I’d want to take you out on a date.” He says, laughing. 

You laugh as well, suddenly a little sad about what he said. “Yeah, that’s too bad. I would’ve said yes.” You say, turning your face to give him a sad smile. 

He smirks at you, but his eyes drooped, giving them a sad, tired look. “Would’ve been a great first date.” 

After that exchange, you both remained quiet, lost in thought of what could have been. Thinking of the undeniable chemistry that drew the two of you together, but also the forces at play that kept you from colliding. What could have been, if circumstances were different, if the two of you were different. Normal. 

“Can I ask you something?” You ask him, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you. 

“Of course.” 

“What would you be, if you weren’t racing and working for my dad? Who would you be?” You were genuinely curious, because all you ever knew about Kuroo was that he was dealing before getting pulled into the Sakanoshita business, and that he raced with Nekoma. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He says, a smile growing on his face. 

“Try me.” 

“Well, I would be a student. Right before I got recruited by your family, I was in college. Chemistry major.” He says, peering over at you. 

“Chemistry?!” You ask, surprised by his answer. “You’re a science nerd?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t say a nerd.” He says, laughing at your reaction. “In my senior year, I ran out of money. So, I started dealing. It wasn’t anything serious, but I guess I was pretty good at it. I ended up on your dad’s radar, and he took me in as a transporter and dealer. And so, here I am. No degree, but hey, I have a nice car.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say, almost out of instinct. It felt like the only right thing to say, even if it wasn’t something that was expected. 

“Sorry for what? Your dad giving me a job?” 

“You never got to graduate.” After saying this, it seems as though Kuroo realizes it as well, that he never got to finish school. “You were so close, but you got stuck with my family. I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish your schooling.” You say, meaning every word. You were sorry, and you couldn’t help the guilt you felt. After all, it was your family that pulled him into this world.

Kuroo stays silent for a few more moments, thinking over what you just said. He appears to snap out of it, switching back to his usual easy going, casual self. “Nothing to be sorry for, princess. Without your dad recruiting me, I would just be a broke bum with a lame car and no money to my name. Besides, I can go back and finish things up someday. But for right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.” He looks over at you and winks, making you laugh. “What about you? Where would the yakuza princess be if she wasn’t a mob boss in training?” 

You paused, not knowing how to answer. “I actually don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it, because there really isn’t a future for me outside of the family business.” You say, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice. 

Kuroo frowned, thinking of a response. “Well, hypothetically, what would you be doing? Let’s say, in an alternate universe, where we’re just normal people, living normal, legal lives. What would (y/n) be?” 

“A teacher.” You say proudly, without hesitation. “Or a professor. Definitely education.” 

“A teacher?!” Kuroo asks, laughing. “How do you go from yakuza boss to teacher?” 

You laugh, realizing just how ridiculous it sounds. “What, you said normal! If I had a choice to be normal, I’d want to be a teacher, in a small town. I think I’d be a good teacher!” You say, defending your choice. 

“Okay, okay. I guess I can see you as a teacher.” Kuroo says, still grinning from ear to ear. “But, the hot teacher. With a gang tattoo.” He says, referencing the giant koi fish tattoo you have on your shoulder. 

“No!” you exclaimed, laughing loudly with him. “I want to be the generic teacher, with cardigans and sensible shoes and house cats to come home to. I’d grade papers and mentor kids, and just be free to be as boring as I want to be.” 

“Y’know, maybe I can see it.” Kuroo says, smiling at you. You couldn’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach every time he gave you that smile, the kind of smile that made your day so much better by simply existing. “Maybe someday we can be boring together.” 

The profound silence that followed that sentence spoke volumes to the both of you, almost as a silent prayer to the universe, begging for a chance to be boring together. However, that silence was broken by Kenma in your ear, bringing you both back to the reality you both began to dread.

“5 minutes out, turn your headlights off.” 

“Going dark. Thanks Snake Eyes.” You hear Kita say. Kuroo flicks his lights off, leaving only the street lamps to light the way. 

“What container should we be looking for?” Oikawa asks. 

Kuroo replies, reading out a series of letters and numbers. “The boss gave me an idea of where to go, I think we’ll have to get out to look around though. Snake Eyes, you got eyes on the port? Any trouble?” 

“Nope, all clear. Limited street lamps though, you may need a car for some light.” 

“Got it. I’ll let you know when we find the container. Let us know if anything suspicious catches your eye.” Kuroo says, muting himself once again. As you enter the industrial port, Kuroo begins taking a series of turns, leading you deep into the maze of containers. The further you got, the number of street lamps began rapidly decreasing, and you became very familiar with the reason why it’s called shady business. 

Kuroo flicked his lights on, and you kept an eye out for the shipping container, or at least one that was close to the number you were looking for. 

“I think I got something.” You hear Kita say, flashing his lights behind you, to signal for everyone to stop. Kuroo turns around, putting his car in park and leaving the lights on, pointing at a shipping container with the exact identification numbers you were looking for. 

“Nice work Sly Fox.” Kuroo says, patting him on the back. You stood close by the car as the three men approached the container, Kuroo pulling a key out of his pocket and unlocking the giant lock that secured the container. 

As he swung open the door to the container, the scent was strong, but familiar. It smelled like… 

“Tobacco?” You ask, walking closer to the container. 

“Cuban cigars.” Kita says, laughing as he walked further into the container. 

“Hey Snake Eyes, let the boss know we’re in the container. 30 bricks right?” Kuroo asks into his ear piece. 

 “I’ll let him know. And yes, 30 exactly. He left a note in the file that said you may have to look around a bit for the cargo. Also, Sly Fox, don’t take any cigars.” Kenma says, right as Kita was stuffing a handful of cigars into his pocket. Kita reluctantly returns them to the pile they were taken from. 

“Got it, 30 pieces of cargo. We’ll make contact again once they’ve been located.” Kuroo says, tapping his ear piece twice. “Okay, 30 bricks. Let’s start from the back and make our way out, whenever you find one, take it straight out to my car. Princess, you’re the look out.” 

“Why do I have to be the look out?” You protest. 

“You can’t reach the top of the containers, chica.” Oikawa points out, putting his hand on one of the shipping boxes that towered over you. Kuroo snickered, walking up to you. 

“Just stay outside, kitten. Let us know if there’s any big bad guys coming?” Kuroo says, putting his arm around you and walking you outside. 

You rolled your eyes and shrugged his arm off. “Whatever, just hurry up, it’s freezing out here.” 

You stand outside, staring out to the distant city lights, listening to the quiet waves that lapped against the side of the port. Kuroo came and went, bringing cigar boxes filled with cocaine out to his car. 

After the 12th box, he noticed you were crouched down with your arms tucked into your jacket, the arms of your jacket swinging in the breeze. He laughs, walking up to you. 

“Cold?” He asks, looking down at you. 

“Maybe.” You answered through chattering teeth. You stand up, looking up at him. He towered over you, meaning you had to crane your neck in order to meet his gaze. 

“Here.” He says, taking the red bomber jacket off his body and wrapping it around you, using it as an opportunity to pull you closer to him. “Your dad might slice my head off if you catch a cold.” He whispers into your ear, making you laugh. 

“How’re we doing guys?” Kenma asks through the ear piece.

“A little under halfway done. Anything we should be worried about?” Kuroo says. 

“Nope, still all clear. Just let me know when you’re done and heading out.” Kenma says, muting himself. 

“Back to work.” Kuroo says, pulling you in tighter for a moment before letting you go. You stood there, warm under his jacket, wrapped up in the lingering scent of his cologne that remained. You wanted to freeze time, to live in this moment of calm, feeling protected just by the residual presence of Kuroo. 

They continued on, carrying cigar boxes out of the container and into Kuroo’s trunk. Every once in a while you’d hear hushed conversations from inside the container, too quiet for you to hear. 

“This is the last of it.” Oikawa says, walking out of the container with Kuroo. They each had 4 boxes in their hands, which they placed in the back of Kuroo’s car. 

“Ready to go?” Kita says, popping up next to you out of nowhere, causing you to jump. 

“Jesus, where did you even come from?” You ask, startled by his sudden appearance. 

Kita smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “They don’t call me sly fox for nothing.” He says, walking back to his car. Kuroo was busy closing up the container, securing it and making it appear as if we were never there. Oikawa was leaning over the trunk of Kuroo’s car, arranging the boxes of drugs underneath a spare blanket. 

“Snake Eyes, you there?” Kuroo asks, walking back to the car. 

“Yup, all ready to go?” Kenma responds. 

“Ready when you are.” Kuroo says, walking over to your car door and holding it open for you. You climb in, ready to get out of the cold. Kuroo closes the door, and continues to talk to Kenma through his ear piece. You figured out that Kenma had made it so their communications wouldn’t be heard through your ear piece. You couldn’t make out exactly what they’re saying, but you assumed it’s some info about the drive to the warehouse. 

You watch as Kuroo leans in to tell Oikawa something, which he nods in agreeance to before walking back to his car and getting in. Kuroo then walks around to his side of the car, turning it on and beginning to pull out of the dark alleyway of the port. 

“Ready to roll, princess?” He asks, turning to flash you a grin. 

“The faster the better.” You say jokingly. He laughs, revving his engine loudly. 

“Careful what you wish for.” He says, speeding up as the three cars leave the port and enter the expressway. 

“DK, stop showing off.” You hear Oikawa say through the ear piece. 

Kuroo rolls his eyes, taking his foot off the gas to slow down. “Buzzkill.” He mutters under his breath. 

You rode in silence together, heading towards the warehouse your father owns. The warehouse was a front, being used as storage for the goods your father exported in his legal business. For the illegal business, it was used as a storage and distribution center for the underground dealings. 

“DK, we have a problem.” Kenma says. 

“Talk to me Snake Eyes.” 

“We’ve got some cops heading your way. The boss texted saying someone may have tipped them off to tonight’s job. Apparently the king of Tokyo has some enemies.” 

“That’s one way to put it.” You mutter to yourself. Your father had more enemies than allies, meaning that there was a constant target on the backs of every member of the family. It’s no surprise that something went wrong tonight. 

“Which way are they coming from?” Kuroo asks. 

“West. I think they’re gonna intercept you soon. At least 2 cars, and I’m pretty sure they’re looking for you.” 

“Shit.” Kuroo whispers to himself. “Cypher, Sly Fox, you there?” 

“Heard it all, DK. What’s the next move?” Cypher asks. 

“Sly Fox, take the lead. Take the back route, go straight to the warehouse, fast as you can. Cypher, take the rear behind Sly Fox, if you run into any trouble you’re the diversion. Got it?” Kuroo says, his voice taking on a new tone of authority. 

“Roger that. When should we check in with you?” Sly Fox asks. 

“I’ll make contact when we’re free. Just get in touch with Snake Eyes when the delivery is made.” 

“And (y/n)?” Kita asks. Kuroo turned toward you with an expression of deep thought on his face. 

“She’ll stay with me. We’ll be fine.” Kuroo says firmly, turning his eyes back to the road. You weren’t sure why, but you trusted him. Given the circumstances, you probably shouldn’t, but some part of you just impulsively put all your faith in him, trusting that being in his car was the best place for you to be.

You hear Oikawa chuckle. “Have fun princesa. I hope DK doesn’t scare you away.” 

“Shut your mouth, amigo.” Kuroo says mockingly. “I’ll see you both later. Be safe.” He says, muting himself. 

You look behind you to see Kita’s car already in front of Oikawa’s, and you see them both exit off of the expressway, their engines revving as they sped off, out of sight. 

“Maybe I’m pointing out the obvious, but aren’t you the one with the delivery to make?” You say, growing worried by Kuroo’s plan. 

“Don’t worry about it princess. Just trust me.” Kuroo says, revving his engine loudly, rapidly increasing speed. 

“You have 20 bricks of cocaine in your trunk and you’re telling me not to worry?!” You exclaim, turning your body to face him. 

“Or do I?” He asks, glancing over and smirking at you. This question caught you off guard, making you wonder if this guy was crazy or stupid, or both. 

“On your left!” You hear Kenma say, moments before two police cars appeared behind you two, struggling to keep up with Kuroo’s speed. 

You slumped back in your seat, trying to find it in yourself to trust Kuroo. The police sirens grew louder and the red and blue flashing lights started to draw closer, but somehow, Kuroo remained calm, not even bothering to increase speed. 

Your heart raced as the police cars began getting closer and closer, nearly pulling up right beside you. 

“Hey princess, ever wondered what DK stood for?” Kuroo asks calmly.

“Fucking Donkey Kong?!” You yell at him, having no patience for his games. 

He laughed at your stressed demeanor, throwing his head back and shaking his head. “Nope. Not even close.” He switches gears, causing the car to slow down quickly and making the cops draw far ahead of you. He veers off to the side, seemingly to take the ramp that curved to exit the freeway. Suddenly, he speeds up yet again, turning his wheel suddenly as the car begins drifting on it’s side. 

“Drift King.” He says with a smirk. The car drifted down the ramp, screeching as Kuroo pulled the emergency brake up and maneuvered the steering wheel to keep it steady. You were familiar with drifting, due to the fact your brother was involved in street racing before his death. You knew that it was something that only experienced drivers could do, and it took a certain level of skill and a lot of practice to perfect. You realized that this meant Kuroo was a skilled driver, far more skilled than you realized. No wonder they called him Drift King. 

By the time the two of you reached the end of the ramp and began racing down the industrial district street, the cops just began heading down the ramp, trying their hardest to keep up. 

The chase continued on for several blocks, Kuroo barely breaking a sweat. It seemed as though this wasn’t his first chase. After some time, Kenma’s voice comes through on the ear piece. 

“Hey DK, you may want to end this chase. They’re calling for backup soon.” 

“Got it, I’ll pull over now. Thanks Snake Eyes.” Kuroo replies, beginning to slow down. 

“Pull over?!” You ask him. 

“Just trust me! You think I’d put you in danger?” He asks you, grinning. The car comes to a stop, and the two police cars quickly pull over as well. 

“Give me your ear piece.” Kuroo says quickly, the two police officers quickly approaching the car. You quickly hand it to him, which he shoves in the inside pocket of his jacket. 

“Sir, please exit the car. You as well, ma’am.” The officer says, shining his light in Kuroo’s car. The two of you exit the car, standing in front of the headlights. 

“Now, what in god’s name were you doing?” He asks, as the other officer begins searching the car. 

“He was just being a show off.” You say, lying on the spot. Kuroo looks surprised by your sudden statement, but plays it off, acting natural. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. Just trying to impress a pretty girl.” He says, putting his arm around you and kissing the side of your forehead. Although it was just an act, your stomach still did somersaults just with that one simple action. 

“I see.” The officer says, shining the light at your gun. “You have a license to carry that ma’am?” 

“Yes sir. Just a personal protection piece.” You say, pulling your driver’s license as well as gun registration out. You hand it to the officer, who looks it over. 

“Sakanoshita?” He asks with fake surprise, looking up at you. 

“Yes, my father. I’m sure you know him.” You say, knowing that the name Sakanoshita held a lot of clout in the city. 

“We're familiar with him.” He says shortly, handing the papers back to you. “Anything?” He asks, turning towards the other officer who was peering into the car. 

“Nothing. Mind popping the trunk?” He asks Kuroo. Your heart begins to race, knowing what they would find. Kuroo however, remained cool as a cucumber, sauntering over to the car to open the trunk. He walks back to you with a grin, standing behind you and draping his arms over your shoulders, pulling you closer to his body. You grab his hands, bracing yourself for the big reveal. 

“Now what do we have here?” The officer says, ripping the blanket off of the boxes. You close your eyes, preparing yourself for the worst. The officers pause, opening one of the boxes. 

“Cigars?” They ask. You open your eyes, looking up at Kuroo as he continues to grin at you. 

“Yes sir, we were on our way back to her place, to deliver them to her dad. You know, the infamous Mr. Sakanoshita.” Kuroo lies with ease. 

“They’re gifts, for some associates of his.” You say, joining in on the lie. “He’s hosting a little get together tomorrow. I believe your boss, the police chief, will be there. It’d be a shame if he heard you pulled over a Sakanoshita.” You knew exactly what you were doing, using your name for your own benefit. 

“I see.” He says, closing the box of cigars and putting it back down. “Just some Cuban cigars I suppose.” He closes the trunk, walking to where you and Kuroo stood. 

“And I suppose the speeding was because the old man is waiting on these cigars, huh?” The other officer says, standing next to his partner. 

“Exactly.” Kuroo says. “Not exactly the best idea to get on the bad side of your girlfriend’s father, right?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

Surprisingly, the cops laugh. “You got your work cut out for you kid. Sakanoshita is not an easy man to win over.” 

“Yeah, his daughter isn’t any easier.” Kuroo says, pulling you closer. You laugh along, wishing for this interaction to end already. 

“I’ll tell you what.” The officer says, taking a few steps closer to the two of you. The headlights from the car streaked behind him, casting a dark shadow over you and Kuroo. “You two can go ahead home, just make sure not to mention this to your dad. Or our boss. Sound good?” 

“Perfect. Have a good night you two.” You say, hurriedly pulling Kuroo back to the car. 

“Sorry for the trouble!” Kuroo calls out as the two men walk back to their patrol cars. 

Once the two of you are back in the car, you breathe deeply, staring into space. 

“You alright princess?” Kuroo asks, turning towards you. 

You snap out of it, punching him in the arm. He jumps back in pain, looking shocked at your outburst. 

“Cigars?!” You question him, unable to form a full sentence. He laughs, throwing his head back. 

“Yes, cigars. I told you I didn’t have any drugs back there, didn’t I?” he says, grinning slyly at you. 

“Then who the hell has the coke?” You ask sternly, adrenaline still pumping from that run in with the cops. 

“Think about it.” Kuroo says, turning his whole body to face you. “Where do you think the drugs are?” 

You thought about it, the entire night, all the interactions that occurred. Only one person stood out to you, which was- 

“Sly Fox.” You say, realizing the stunt that they had just pulled off. “Kita. I never would have seen him take anything to his car, he’s too sneaky. I had my back turned to his car because it was up against a container, no one could have come from over there. That’s why you had him go straight to the warehouse. It’s all in Kita’s car.”

“Well look who figured it out. Good job princess.” Kuroo says, leaning back in his seat. 

“But why take the cigars? And why not tell me the plan?” You question him, not satisfied with the answer you had come up with. 

“In case of a situation exactly like this. Insurance, in case everything went wrong. An alibi.” He says peering over at you. “And, well, I wanted to test you. See if you could take the heat.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I wanted to see how you’d handle yourself, with your back to the wall. I wanted to see if you trust me.” He says, with a small smile on his face. 

“Didn’t really give me much of a choice but whatever.” You grumble quietly. 

Kuroo laughs, looking over at you. “You did great, princess. You’ll be a mob boss in no time. I hope you’ll let me keep my job, though.” 

You let out a tired scoff, exhausted by the adrenaline rush that had come and gone. “Just- please keep me in the loop about things like this. If you can do that then maybe you can keep working for me.” 

“DK, everything good?” You hear Kenma say through the ear pieces that were still in Kuroo’s pocket. He dug them out, handing you one which you placed in your ear. 

“Yup, crisis averted. Have you heard from Sly Fox and Cypher?” Kuroo asks. 

“We’re right here boss. Delivery has been made, just waiting on your order.” You hear Kita say. 

“Meet us back at the boss’s house, me and the princess have one last loose end to tie up and then we’ll head over.” Kuroo says, starting the car. 

Kuroo heads back in the direction of the ports, and you assume it’s so that the 20 cigars could be returned to the container. Once again, the two of you ride in comfortable silence, your mind wandering as you gazed at the distant city lights. 

“What’s on your mind, princess?” Kuroo asks, bringing you back to reality.

“My brother.” You answer without hesitation. “If things were different, it’d probably be him doing this job with you. Maybe not in the passenger seat, but still. The family legacy would be his.” You felt a pit grow in your stomach, your eyes suddenly tearing up. You always had these lingering feelings of doubt, but you never realized it was because of Keishin, having to be in his shadow. No one ever bet on you, or thought you were going to be the one inheriting the empire. Regardless, you were there, because your brother wasn’t. 

“Well, no offense to the great Black Lung but I for one am glad you’re here. No one else I’d rather have in my passenger seat.” He says, giving you a sincere smile, one that you haven’t seen before. It was different from his flirtatious smirk, or his arrogant grin. It was just a simple, kind smile. 

Black Lung?” You questioned. 

“Your brother’s racing name. Y’know, like DK, Cypher, Sly Fox. He used to smoke like 6 packs a day, even more than Kita. He was kind of a big deal in the racing scene. After he passed, Karasuno didn’t race for a long time because there was no one that could replace him. They’re slowly getting back on the road, but your brother is definitely still a driver people remember.” Kuroo explains, pulling into the port once again. 

“He smoked?” You asked, trying to remember a time you saw him with a cigarette. You assumed it was because he only smoked when he was away from the house, because it was something that your father would have never approved of. You were pretty sure Keishin would’ve been disowned if he smoked or drank in front of  your father.

“Yeah, all the time. That was his whole thing. Did he not smoke around you?” Kuroo asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

“No, I guess he never smoked around our family. I don’t think my dad knew either if he only smoked when he raced.” You pause for a moment. “Do you know anything about it? The accident?” You ask, growing more and more curious about what Kuroo knew. Your brother’s death was always explained to you by members of your family, and you wondered if there was something that they didn’t know that the racers did. 

Kuroo paused, an expression of deep thought in his face. He looked as though he was trying to figure out the exact sentences he would say next. “All I’ve heard is that…there was an explosion. I think his girlfriend was near it at the time, and she got injured. That’s all I know though, no one really talks about it much because of how bad it hurt everyone. A lot of people cared about him.” 

“He had a girlfriend?” You ask, turning towards Kuroo as he puts the car in park. 

He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, some chick named Saeko. I think she has a younger brother that races nowadays. I’m pretty sure she’s still a mechanic for the team.” Kuroo pauses, looking out towards the port. “Look, I don’t know too much about the accident. And I assume your dad doesn’t want you looking into it too hard. But if you do want to know more, just let me know. I’ll talk to some guys from Karasuno. Sounds good?” He asks you.

You nod in agreeance, knowing that there had to be a reason why Keishin was so secretive, and why your father is still keeping secrets about his death to this day. “Okay. If you end up talking to Saeko, could I come along? I just...I feel like I’m getting to know my brother all over again. I want to know the side of him that he hid from our family.” 

“Of course. Now c’mon, let's get these cigars back where they came from.” Kuroo says, getting out of the car and popping the trunk. You follow him, getting out and standing next to him. 

The two of you silently put the cigars back, working quickly to get the job completely finished. By the time Kuroo was closing the container door, Oikawa came through in the ear piece. 

“Hey love birds, are you heading back to the house soon?” he asks. Kuroo rolls his eyes and unmutes himself. 

“We’re heading back now from the port. Snake Eyes, you told the boss the delivery was made already, right?”

“Yup, I let him know. He’s waiting for you guys at the house.” Kenma replies. 

“Sounds good, we’ll be there soon. Cypher, Sly Fox, go ahead and start heading over now.” 

“Will do. See you soon DK.” Sly Fox says. 

“C’mon princess, let’s go home.” Kuroo says, throwing his arm over you as the two of you walk back to the car. You take the hand he had on your shoulder into your own, squeezing tightly. It was strange how natural it felt, being with Kuroo. It was almost as if it was where you belonged, with him, wrapped up in his arms. 

You climb back into the car, watching Kuroo as he starts the car and begins driving off once again. Your head was spinning trying to make sense of everything that had occurred that night, as well as processing all the new information Kuroo had told you about your brother. You knew this day had to come, when you would have to jump in head first into the world your family operated within, when you would have to fully take on the Sakanoshita name and all the responsibilities that come with it. 

As Kuroo rolls up to the driveway of your home, you see Oikawa and Kita standing outside with your father, smoke billowing from where the three of them were conversing. 

“Tetsurou! (y/n)! I was beginning to wonder when you’d be back!” Your father says, cutting another cigar and handing it to Kuroo, motioning for him to join the group. 

“Cubans? What’s the occasion?” You ask your father, standing next to Kuroo. 

“Your first job, sweetheart. And with no casualties, no arrests, a clean job deserves a little reward.” Your father says, grinning at you, holding out a cigar for you to take. 

“Dad, I don’t smoke.” You say, laughing. 

“Oh c’mon, the most powerful man in Tokyo offers you a cigar, you take the cigar.” Oikawa says, smirking and letting out another cloud of smoke. 

You roll your eyes, taking the cigar and allowing your father to light it. You thought more about the cigar as you drew the smoke in, about what it meant for you to be invited to smoke with your father. It meant that you were finally owning your family name, you were finally a true Sakanoshita. 

You stood there silently, listening as Kuroo explained to your father the decision he made to use Kita as the real transport and to make himself the emergency decoy. Your father listened as well, nodding along with an expression of deep thought on his face. 

“Great thinking Tetsurou. That is exactly why I keep you on my payroll.” Your father laughs, smacking his hand against Kuroo’s back. Kuroo laughs as well, putting on his usual submissive attitude that he uses with your father to gain his good graces. 

“Let’s just hope your daughter keeps me on when she takes over.” Kuroo jokes, nudging you with his elbow. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ve earned your place with the whole family.” Your father says, smiling at you. “Say, isn’t that Tetsurou’s jacket?” 

“Oh, yeah.” You say, realizing you still had it on. “It got cold at the ports.” 

“It’s funny. You’re starting to look more and more like him.” Your father says, eyes squinting as he smiles sadly. 

“Like who? DK?” Kita asks with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. 

“Keishin. The racing jacket, the gun. Even the smoking.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, remembering the conversation you had with Kuroo about your brother. Your suspicions about your father kept growing, and it became harder and harder to believe his mourning father act, the smoke and mirrors he used to deceive everyone. 

“Well, you know how much I adored him.” You say, taking another puff from your cigar. You and your father both pause, staring one another down. There was noticeable tension, but with no clear reason. Nothing more than a gut feeling. 

The staredown was cut off by Kuroo clearing his throat, getting both yours and your father’s attention. “It’s getting pretty late, we don’t want to keep the two of you from a good night’s rest.” He says, finding a way for the three racers to leave. 

“Yes, it is getting rather late. Oh! Better not forget these. Tetsurou, I put your friend’s pay for tonight with yours.” Your father says, moving away from the staircase leading up to the front door to reveal three paper bags with names on them, which you assume was full of money. 

“Thank you sir. I’ll make sure to get it to Snake Eyes.” Kuroo says, bowing to your father. Kita and Oikawa follow suit, bowing before grabbing their bags. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Kita says, walking back to his car. 

“See you next time boss. You too, princesa.” Oikawa says, waving to the both of you before getting into his car. 

“So, you’ll let me know when there’s another job?” Kuroo asks as Oikawa and Kita begin pulling out of the driveway. 

“Absolutely.” He nods, turning to face both of you. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I better get inside before your mother comes out here and drags me back in. Have a good night, Tetsurou.” He says, going back inside. It was once again just you and Kuroo. 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” You say, beginning to take off Kuroo’s red bomber jacket. 

“Keep it.” He says, taking a step closer to you. He places the jacket back onto your shoulders. “I’ll be back for it eventually.” 

The two of you pause, staring into each other’s eyes. It felt like a moment that you could live in forever, relishing the comfort that Kuroo gave you. 

“Thanks for having my back tonight. You sure know how to think on your feet.” Kuroo says. 

“Not like I had much of a choice.” You say, remembering the moment earlier in the night. A part of you wished it wasn’t a lie, that you and Kuroo were just two lovers out for a drive. Nothing illegal, nothing scary, just a guy with a car and the girl in the passenger seat. 

“Come here, princess.” Kuroo says, pulling you into a tight hug. Your heart skips a beat, startled by the sudden act of affection. You wrap your arms around him, feeling perfectly at home in his arms, being squeezed tightly against his body. 

“Please be careful. I don’t trust your father.” Kuroo whispers into your ear. You realize the real reason why he hugged you, so that he could tell you this message in secret. “I’ll talk to some people from Karasuno Killers and see if you can meet Keishin’s girl. He’s hiding something, (y/n).” 

“How do you know? What are you talking about?” You ask, holding him tighter. 

“(y/n), how would your father know that Keishin smoked? If he lied about that, then we don’t know what else he’s hiding.” Kuroo responds. Your breath catches in your throat, remembering what your father had said, about your sudden resemblance to Keishin. 

Racing jacket, gun, smoke. 

[waitimcomingtoo]

Lovestruck and Lipstick Stained

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

synopsis: you and Tom don’t feel entirely out of characters after playing lovers in the MCU

thank you to @snowrosestonight​ for the idea!

Masterlist

“Well hey there Spiderman.”

You walked up to Tom at one of the many photoshoots of the press tour with a cheeky smile. He was dressed in his suit, a sight you had grown to love very dearly. Your time as Gwen Stacy in the MCU had been incredibly memorable, all thanks to Tom.

“Hey yourself.” Tom folded his arms and clocked your outfit, a white t shirt with Spider-Man’s mask in the shape of a heart and skin tight jeans. “Nice jeans. I think I can see the spare change in your pocket.”

You looked down at your jeans and pointed your foot, flexing the cherry red heels they’d put you in and laughed.

“I’m sure they’re no tighter than the suit. And at least I can go to the bathroom without a team to help me.” You teased him as you poked out your tongue.

“Don’t disrespect the suit.” Tom pretended to be insulted. “I recall saving your life a few times in it.”

“I mean no disrespect. Honestly, I never get tired of seeing you in that suit. It’s like a rush of endorphins every time.” You chuckled as you ran your fingertips down his arm. Tom couldn’t feel it through his many layers of material, but the act alone sent shivers down his spine.

“That’s how I felt when I saw that T-Shirt. Seriously, did they mold that to your body?” He teased as he eyed your ridiculously tight shirt. It was a classic look MJ had worn in the comics, and the wardrobe department wanted to pay homage to it. You had felt a little self conscious with the form fitting the ensemble was, but Toms comments had taken the edge off.

“A lady never reveals her secrets.” You shrugged playfully.

“Well you look amazing, darling. You should wear this more often.” Tom complimented as his eyes took their time going down your body. You stepped closer to him and fixed some stray hairs of his that had fallen out of place.

“You know, I just might.” You smiled as you touched up his hair. A content smile rested on Toms lips as comfortable silence settled between you.

“Are you two ready to go?” A set assistant came up to you, taking your attention away from each other.

“I think we are.” You answered for Tom and yourself.

“Let’s get started.”

You were lead onto set and given a mark to stand on. The flash of the camera wasn’t something you were used to yet, but having Tom directly at your side calmed your nerves.

You popped one of your legs up and gave the camera a sultry smile as you clung to Tom. There was a wind machine blowing your hair back as you posed, only adding to the magic. You switched up your face and position but never took your hands off Tom, and he did the same.

“Tom, can you put your hand in Y/n’s back pocket?” One of the photographers asked between shots.

“Is that okay with you?” Tom asked quietly, so only you could hear as he looked at you for permission.

“I prefer it.” You told him as you gave his face a once over. Tom smirked and held your gaze as he slid his hand into your back pocket, letting the cameras capture it. You winked at him before turning your attention back to the photographer, posing for a few more minutes before you took a break.

“Everyone take five. Great work guys.” The photographer smiled at the two of you before walking off set. You slowly untangled yourself from Tom, chuckling shyly as he slid his hand out of your pocket.

“That wasn’t too hard.” You joked as you walked towards your chairs on the set. Four women immediately came over to touch up your hair and makeup as you and Tom spoke.

“Hard? Looking pretty is my day job.” Tom scoffed and pretended to flip hair over his shoulder.

“And looking like I’m in love with you is mine.” You tweaked an eyebrows as someone fixed your hair.

“You do it so well.” Tom boasted. “Best I’ve ever seen, really.”

“Well, you know. I get lots of practice.” You shrugged casually. “And when looking at such a pretty face, it’s not that hard to look in love.” You teased him as you squished his cheeks. Tom laughed and pushed you off, smiling in gratitude at the hair and makeup people as they left.

“I, uh, I got pretty familiar with your back pocket today.” Tom said, keeping his yes down as he took a step towards you.

“Yeah.” You looked away as you felt your cheeks flush. “Not many get to say they’ve had that experience.”

“I better thank my lucky stars then, huh?” Tom folded his arms, giving you a cocky smile. You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes at him, not wanting him to get the upper hand.

“Yeah.” You spike softly, your breath fanning his face. “You better.”

With his chest touching yours now, Tom opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the set assistant.

“Are you guys ready to continue?” He asked, not realizing what he was interrupting. You and Tom shared own last look, heavy with disappointment, as you stepped away from each other and nodded.

“You got the lipstick, right?” He asked you. You looked at Tom in confusion, only to find him a blushing mess.

“Lipstick?” You asked.

“You’re gonna cover Tom’s face in lipstick stains for the second half of the photo shoot.” The assistant informed you, and you immediately understood the blush. Your cheeks flames up in a crimson of their own as you realized you’d have to kiss your best friend again after so many months without it.

“I got it.” Tom bashfully held up tube of red lipstick, avoiding eye contact with you. You stared at the tube, your mind drifting back to the long days on set where you and Tom, or Peter and Gwen, would kiss for hours until you got the perfect take.

“Awesome. Do you need any help Y/n?” The assistant asked you, snapping you out of your daze. You blinked a few times as you came back to reality and shook your head.

“I think I can manage.” You squeaked.

“Great. See you guys in a few.”

The assistant left you alone to get ready, a nervous flutter going through you as he left.

“Did you know about this?” You eyed Tom skeptically as you took the tube of lipstick from him.

“Oh, darling.” Tom snorted. “It was my idea.”

Your jaw dropped as he shrugged smugly and gave him a playful shove.

“You don’t quit, do you?” You clicked your tongue as you opened the lipstick, begging to apply it in the mirror as you held eye contact with him.

“No I do not.” He said proudly as he took a seat in his chair. “You said my face was pretty, right? Come make it even prettier.”

Tom beckoned you over with his fingers, making you gulp as you finished putting on your lipstick.

“Okay.” You waltzed over you him, dragging your finger along the side of your mouth to clean up the line. You put a knee between Toms legs and propped yourself up, leaning over him as you leaned your hands on each of his armrests.

“I think I’ll put one here.” You spoke softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Here.” Corner of the mouth.

“Both cheeks.” You narrated in a hushed tone as you pressed a kiss to either sides of his face. You could feel how hot his skin was under your lips, and it made you smile.

“This is already my favorite photo shoot.” Tom chuckled as you reapplied your lipstick and placed kisses along his hairline.

“Me too.” You mumbled before covering his neck and jawline in the red lipstick stains. After his neck was decently covered, you leaned back to admire your work. Tom looked at you with heavy eyelids, swimming in bliss as he drummed his fingers on your hips.

“One more.” You decided. “To top it off.”

You leaned in and placed a searing kiss to his lips, leaving a bright red mark in your wake.

“Good call.” Tom gave you a dopey smile one you pulled away.

“Come on.” You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go get our picture taken.”

~

“Wait, look.” You stopped walking to your hotel on your way back from the photoshoot when a certain building caught your eye. Tom stopped with you, as your arm had been linked through his.

“What are we looking at? A tattoo shop?” He looked at you curiously.

“Yeah. I was thinking of getting one to commemorate my time as Gwen Stacy.” You admitted as you shyly scratched behind your ear.

“What did you want to get?”

“Nothing crazy or anything.” You shrugged. “I just want something small to represent my role.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Tom asked as you walked inside the shop.

“About a million.” You chuckled. “That’s my problem. I can’t decide.”

“Well what’s your favorite scene?” He asked you as he browsed the artwork on the walls of the shop.

“I like when Peter sets up a picnic on the giant web. It’s my favorite scene visually and I, uh, I liked shooting it.” You looked at him timidly through your lashes. It was a great day on set, getting to cuddle into Toms side for eight hours straight. It held fond memories for the both of you.

“So there you go.” Tom half smiled. “Get a web.”

“You think I should?” You wanted his approval before you went through with anything.

“Yeah. You know how I know it’s the right move?” He raises his eyebrows.

“How?”

“That’s my favorite scene too.” He winked at you and pulled you towards the reception desk.

“Then I’ll do it.” You decided. “Under one condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to do it.” You told him.

“Darling, I don’t know the first thing about tattoos.” He warned you.

“I don’t care.” You shook your head. “You were my partner in this and if it’s gonna be on my body forever, I want you to do it. It has to be you.”

“I would be honored, love.” Tom smiled softly. “Just remember how much you love me as your partner when it turns out horrible.”

“That will just add to the charm.” You shrugged it off, feeling confident in your decision.

“Are you sure they’ll let me do it on you?” He wondered as the receptionist came to the desk.

“We’re celebrities. They’ll let us do anything.” You laughed before explaining what you wanted done. Within thirty minutes, you were in a chair with Tom at your side. He was armed with a tattoo gun, bouncing his leg nervously as someone else loaded it with ink.

“I need both hands to do this, so you’ll have to squeeze my knee instead if it hurts.” Tom said sympathetically, wishing he could hold your hand to ease your pain.

“Okay. Try to be gentle.” You braced yourself, already squeezing his knee out of fear.

“Right. I’ll just use the gentle setting on the gun.” Tom replied sarcastically, your laughter replacing your fear.

“Just shut up and do me.” You covered your eyes with your hands and turned away.

“Oh? Someones feeling romantic.” Tom poked fun at your accidental innuendo.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You whined.

“Sure you didn’t, darling. Are you okay to start?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just do it.” You gulped and squeezes your eyes shut as Tom began to freehand a web. There was an actual tattoo artist beside him, instructing him on what to do as he worked. The pain wasn’t as bad as you thought it was, but it didn’t feel great either. You squeezed his knee for an hour straight until you heard the relieving words.

“All done.” Tom said proudly as the buzzing from the gun stopped.

“Is my arm still there?” You asked, still facing away.

“It’s still there, love.” Tom chuckled as he wiped it down. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Yeah.” You beamed as Tom helped you sit up. You excitedly held out your arm. You looked at your tattoo and felt the air get knocked out of your lungs.

“Tom.” You mumbled as you stared at the tattoo.

“Do you like it?” He asked hopefully, staring at your face to read your reaction.

“It’s horrible.” You stared as you gaped at the misshapen web Tom had permanently put on your body. Toms heart stopped when he discovered that you didn’t like it.

“Darling, I’m sorry.” He apologized sincerely. “I told you I wasn’t-“

“I love you.” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “And I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Really?” He gasped.

“Thank you so much. It’s perfect.” You threw your other arm around him and hugged him tightly as tears of joy streamed down your face.

“I’m glad I could help.” He smiled as he rubbed your back. “I’m definitely going to need a picture of my work.”

“Go ahead. The world deserves to see this masterpiece.” You beamed as Tom took out his phone. He went live on Instagram and held his phone up to his face.

“Guys, Y/n made a really bad decision and let me tattoo her. Wait, how do I flip the camera?” He looked at you for help as you laughed.

“Like this, sweetness.” You tapped his screen twice and held out your arm.

“Okay. Look at this. This is pretty good for my first time.” Tom praised himself as he took your arm and gently twisted it to show off the whole thing.

“I’m in love with it. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You smiled gratefully as Tom panned the camera up to your face.

“The smile on your face right now is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Look at this girl. How cute is she?” Tom gushed as he squished your cheeks with his free hand.

“I’m just so happy. Look at my tattoo!” You happily held your arm out, absolutely in love with what he had done.

“It’s pretty shit.” Tom laughed at his crooked lines.

“Stop it!” You scolded him. “This is my favorite thing in the entire world right now. And forever.”

“I’m glad you like it. Just like how you guys are gonna like our movie.” He managed to turn the camera around to wink.

“You’re gonna love it. I love it and I’ve never seen it.” You came into view as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You heard the girl. Go see our movie.” Tom commanded as he wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you close.

“Out next week!” You chirped before he shut the camera off. You let a professional wrap the tattoo before you paid and left the shop. Tom held your hand as you walked down the street, his way of making up for not being able to hold it while you got the tattoo.

“Hey, speaking of the movie, we have the premier in a week and I haven’t picked an outfit.” Tom realized as you neared your hotel.

“Really? I picked my dress the day I was cast.” You joked, tugging Tom into the lobby.

“I fully believe you.” He laughed. “What are you wearing?”

“I have a picture. Here.” You handed him your phone as you got into an elevator. Tom looked at the picture of you in a floor length, off the shoulder, royal blue ball gown that you had taken in a fitting room. His jaw immediately dropped at the sight of you as his heart picked up speed.

“You look incredible. Can you send this to me?” He asked sweetly as he looked up from the phone.

“Sure, but it’s not even the whole look.” You laughed shyly as he gawked at you. “I’m gonna have hair, makeup, and heels on the day of the premier. Plus jewelry.”

“You’re forgetting the most important part.” He clicked his tongue.

“What’s that?”

“Me as your arm candy.” Tom winked at you and handed your phone back.

“How could I forget you? My partner.” You took his hand and squeezed it ostentatiously.

“You keep calling me that, and I kind of love it. I think of you as my partner too.” He said shyly as he played with your fingers.

“Then we should match at the premier. We can show everyone our partnership.” You said as the idea came to you.

“You’re wearing blue…”

“So you wear red.” You finished his sentence. “You’ve always looked good in red.”

“Done.” Tom decoded. “I’ll tell my stylist tomorrow.”

“Awesome.” You smiled as you got to your floor.

“Hey, darling?” Tom asked as you stepped off the elevator.

“Yes?” You stopped in the hallway so you could give him your full attention.

“Would you be my date to the premier?” He asked as his lips curved into a smile. You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded before you could form words.

“I would love too.” You told him. His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he rushed at you, picking you up and spinning you around as he hugged you tightly.

“Yes!” He cheered. “Everyones gonna be jealous of me.”

“Alright, alright.” You laughed as he set you down. “Save that energy for the premier.”

“Trust me darling, I will.” Tom grinned as he stood outside his hotel room, directly across from yours.

“Goodnight, idiot.” You rolled your eyes at him as you stood in your doorway.

“Goodnight Princess.” He blew you a kiss, making you groan. You went inside and shut your door, but Tom stayed out for a moment, looking at your door wistfully before going on himself.

~

“Are you all done?” You asked as you walked into Toms room while putting in your earring. It was the day of the premier and you had gotten ready in separate rooms like a bride and groom.

“Yeah I’m all…oh my God.” His sentence quickly changed course when he saw you. His jaw was slack as he gawkers at you, taking his time in taking you in.

“Do you like it?” A pink tint covered your face when you saw how star struck he was, making you look down shyly.

“What! What?!” Tom was still in awe as he looked you over, unable to believe how good you looked.

“Stop it. You look incredible.” You complimented him, and he did.

“You look so good!” He exclaimed. “Darling, you take my breath away.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Red is definitely your color.” You praised as he twirled you under his arm. His deep red suit perfectly complimented his skin tone and made him look extravagant, especially with the glasses he had opted for. Tom rested his hands on your shoulders and looked at you dress with a proud smile.

“I can’t get over you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “The color blue was made just for you. You look ravishing, love. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled as you pulled him into a hug. Neither of you wanted to admit it, but you both knew this was the last time you’d be together in this way. After tonight, the movie would be out and you’d no longer be on the press tour together. Because of this unspoken feat, the hug lingered a little longer than usually.

“You ready?” Tom asked as he rested his chin on your head.

“Ready.”

~

You walked out onto the red carpet together, hand in hand as the crowd roared. Tom kept one hand on your back as you stopped to pose for the cameras.

“We look like a couple.” He leaned down to say into your ear.

“A couple of besties.” You said without looking at him as you parted his chest. He tightened his grip on your waist as he continued smiling at the cameras.

“I hate you so much for saying that.” He laughed as he held you closer.

“Aw. But I love you.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The press cheered for you as you made your way down the carpet.

“Let’s do something different poses.” Tom suggested as you fixed your dress.

“Okay. Prom pose has to be first.” You said eagerly as you turned around. Tom wrapped his arms around you from behind and posed like you were going to prom.

“That was so stupid.” He shook his head with laughter as he let go of you.

“Here. Gaze lovingly into my eyes.” You instructed as you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Why?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion, but he complied.

“So the fans can say “look at the way they look at each other” and swoon.” You laughed as you tugged on the lapel of his jacket. Tom rolled his eyes before placing his other hand on the small of your back and gazing, as you put it, lovingly into your eyes. You put your hand on his cheek to keep his face in place and let the paparazzi have a field day.

You walked a few places down the red carpet before getting into a new pose, this time wrapping your arms around his neck as he kept his arms around your waist.

“We look like the Twilight poster.” You whispered in his ear before smoldering at the press.

“Which one?” Tom chuckled as he looked at you with all the adoration in the world

“All of them.” You told him as you kept your perfectly manicured hand over her heart.

“I want to do the Will Smith pose.” Tom decided, taking a step away from you and opening his arms like he was presenting you. You covered you mouth as you laughed loudly, feeling a warm sense of joy as Tom held his arms out to behold you. You looked at him fondly and blew him a kiss.

“I feel like artwork.” You shouted over the roar of the press.

“You look like it too.” Tom shouted back, holding his hand out for you to take. You happily accepted his hand, letting him twirl you before you spun into his chest. Both laughing happily and only seeing each other, the roar of the crowd disappeared. All you could hear was Tom’s laughter, coming deep from his tummy.

“Stop it.” You shyly hid your face in his neck as he held you tightly. Tom took your chin between his fingers and beamed at you, grinning like a child before resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re my best friend.” He said between his laughter, keeping his eyes shut to block out the rest of the world.

“And you’re mine.” You reached up and gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, looking longingly at him even with his eyes shut.

“Let’s go.” He slipped his hand into yours and pulled you along. “We have more red carpet to dazzle.”

~

“It’s over.” Tom let out a breath as he plopped on his bed after the premier. “I can’t believe it over.”

You plopped down next to him and both of you stared at the ceiling in silence. You were exhausted from all the screaming fans, interviews and hours on your feet, but you had never been happier. You reached out and took Toms hand which was lying beside yours and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Honestly Tom, this has been a dream with you. You made my experience better than I ever could’ve imagined. I can’t thank you enough.” You told him as you looked to your side to see him. He turned his head to look at you and gave your hand a squeeze.

“You can thank me by keeping me around.” He mumbled. “Getting to know you has been my favorite part of this whole thing, honest to God. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

“I’m sad it’s all coming to an end. I’m gonna miss being with you every day. Eating all our meals together and all that. I loved that.” You spoke softly as you looked down at your hands, trying to hold in tears that came out of nowhere.

“It doesn’t have to end. We can still see each other.” Tom assured you as he propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same. You’ll go off and film your next movie and hang out with your newest costar and forget all about me.” You looked up at him sadly. “And yeah, we’ll see each other but it will only be every once in a while. We literally lived together during filming and now I’ll see you every few months. If I’m lucky.”

“Then let’s keep living together.” Tom said as if the idea had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while.

“What?” You lifted your neck a little to get a better look at him.

“I’m serious. Let’s move in together. Who says this ever has to end?” His eyes were hopeful skies with anxious clouds as he waited for your answer. You stared at him a moment as you pondered it, but deep down you knew the answer straight away.

“I don’t want it to.” You mumbled. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never will.” Tom smiled softly as he brushed a stray hair off of your nose.

“Good.” You stated firmly. “Then let’s move in together to make sure of it.”

“Alright.” He left out a happy sigh and fell on his back. “We can start looking for a flat tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You covered your grin and turned away, not wanting him to see how happy it made you that he felt the same connection you did.

“All the fans are saying we look like a couple.” Tom said suddenly, handing you his phone that was open to twitter. The ship name your fans had coined for you and Tom was number one on trending, Tom was number two, and you were number three. Taking his phone in your hands, you scrolled through a few of the many rows of tweets saying you and Tom made, would make, or were a perfect couple. You couldn’t help but smiling seeing that millions of people wanted you to date your best friend.

“Oh my goodness.” You chuckled as you handed his phone back. “That’s another weird thing. I’m so used to kissing you and acting like I’m your girlfriend from filming. I have to stop myself from being all over you when I see you. I guess I’m still not fully out of character.”

“I have a pretty simple solution for that.” Tom quipped, clicking his phone off and turned on his side to look at you.

“Tell me.” You smirked as you rolled on your side as well.

“You wouldn’t have to stop yourself from being all over me if you…” Tom trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut like he lost his nerve.

“If I what?” You wondered, putting your hand over his to reassure him.

“If you were my girlfriend.” He spoke timidly. “Who says our love has to be limited to the screen?”

“Are you asking me out, Holland?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry if I misread the moment.” His face fell when he thought you didn’t feel the same. “ I thought we-“

You didn’t let him finish, leaning forward and kissing him instead. A hesitant hand molded against your hip as he kissed you back, smiling against your lips until you pulled away.

“You thought right.” You laughed breathlessly. “Whether we’re in front of a camera or not, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Tag List 🏷

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[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 2

Thank you so much for all your reactions to part 1! I hope you enjoy part two just as much :)

CW: mentions of past minor character death (incl. a pregnant woman)

7.3k - masterlist - ao3

--

Her first day of shooting isn’t great. It’s not bad by a long way, but it could have easily been better. They’re on location in a forest somewhere in the outskirts of Rifthold and she didn’t even know there were places in the city like this, she’d assumed it was all the sprawling metropolis of skyscrapers and crowded streets, but apparently not.

She’s cold. There’s a machine beating down torrents of fake rain on her and Fenrys where they stand opposite each other on the muddy path through the trees, they’re filming the scene where their characters first meet. Her feet are soggy inside the canvas trainers she’s wearing and they keep spraying water on her hair to keep the wet look running throughout all of the takes and she hates it. She’s uncomfortable and stiff but she comforts herself with the knowledge that Fenrys is the same if the frown he wears whenever the camera isn’t on him is anything to go by.

It helps, barely.

She keeps having to spit water out of her mouth between lines, she swears it never rains this heavily in real life but who is she to comment, and she watches Rowan’s lips twist in displeasure where he sits behind the camera every time she does it. Aelin’s not sure what else she’s supposed to do, he can sit there out of the line of the water all fine, but she can’t speak with her mouth full.

It can take time to fall into the natural rhythm of shooting a new project, even the shitty ones she’s done in the past have shown her that, but there’s something about the way Rowan watches her that prickles the back of her neck, his stare intense and heavy as he watches, that adds the pressure. She wants to show him that she can do this. She wants his approval.

She ignores the reasons why.

After they finish and Rowan has called cut she sulks back to her trailer, she’s only just managed to change out of her sodden clothes when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Fenrys, warm and dry now in his own change of clothes.

They’ve sort of become friends recently, after swapping numbers after the table read he had texted her first. The studio has put him in the same complex as her and they’ve shared a car back there a couple of times after some of their meetings. She likes him a lot actually, and while she knows his reputation of infamy with the ladies follows him around like a bad smell, she feels comfortable with him.

“That could have gone better,” he tells her as he flops down onto the two-seater sofa at the end of her trailer, the other half has a mound of clothes dumped on it that she hasn’t bothered to sort through yet.

She just shoots him a look that she hopes says tell me about it.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he tells her, reassuringly. He would know she supposes, he has far more experience than her.

“I hope so.”

“How’re you finding it so far, working with Rowan?” he asks, and she frowns, bristling at the fact that he somehow knows the worst question to ask already. Aelin doesn’t think she’s behaved weirdly around Rowan since the day at the table read, in fact she’s tried to avoid him where possible. Maybe that’s it.

“Fine,” she says, but that’s not quite true. It messes with her in a dangerous way every time she knows he’s watching her. She should be able to turn that part of her brain off during a scene, she trained for years to learn how to do that, but he gets to her. She’s working on it.

Fenrys laughs, seeing right through her.

“He’s not bad once you get to know him, the first time we worked together I thought he was a total dick.” She gives him the same look as before as she clears the clothes and sits down next to him.

“I swear he’s not that bad. He’s just-” Fenrys pauses, weighing her up with a look, and something that he takes in from the way she stands, gnawing on her lower lip with her hair still wet, has him saying; “He’s got a lot riding on this.”

“Why?”

It doesn’t feel like he has a lot riding on this, his last piece was nominated for the Oscars, how much higher than that can you get? It’s not like he’s in the same position as her, desperately clawing herself back to a place where she can be cast in a role and it not be followed by a stunned, oh?

She knows there were articles written when her casting was announced that were doubtful of her ability to do this movie, that questioned whether she’s up to the task and whether she’s good enough to be standing next to names like Fenrys and Rowan. Some of the articles were straight up mean, and she only knows that because she searched them up like a masochist when all the ones Elide sent over were far too nice.

A dark part of herself can’t help but fall prey to some of the headlines. The ones that throw around words like nepotism, the ones that question whether Aelin is talented enough to be where she is cut deeper than any knife, and only half of it is because she sometimes wonders the same. She should be better than that, but the reminder catches in her throat that she really does have a lot riding on this.

“It’s not really my place to say.”

That’s a load of shit, and she tells him so. He only shrugs, not willing to so openly gossip about their boss.

“How well do you know him exactly?” She’s fishing for any details, but it definitely could be passed off as casual curiosity.

“He directed my debut, we keep in touch every so often.” He’s nonchalant. “He asked me to audition for this.”

“Nice humble brag.”

Fenrys only flashes her his movie star grin, in combination with the wink he throws at her it’s almost an effort not to blush.

“He wanted you cast, you know?” That she didn’t know, but it’s nice to hear.

“Why? He doesn’t know me.”

“You’re hard work, you know?” He’s joking but it doesn’t sit quite right. She knows it’s true. “Come with us tonight. There's a group of us getting dinner, and you can ask him yourself.”

It’s an olive branch. She knows it’s obvious to everyone that she’s uncomfortable, still hasn’t quite found her feet on set after taking such a break, and it’s one that she’s grateful for. No matter how closed off she knows she still seems to them.

“Okay,” she says and Fenrys’ smile is genuine and a part of her lifts, it’s a start.

They share a car to the restaurant and he fills the journey with easy chatter. She appreciates it because she feels really fucking rusty. It’s been a while since she spoke to anyone outside of her immediate circle of friends and family, and it’s always been easy with them. This is different, but not unwelcome.

Sometimes she worries that, as much as they love her, Aedion, Lysandra and Elide are inclined to tread lightly around her. She’d like to think that she’s not that fragile, that she could take the full front of their humour and teasing like she used to, but then remembers when Fenrys’ joke fell flat for her in the trailer and she thinks again.

Either way, the cast and crew here don’t treat her like she’s broken, or even breakable, and it’s refreshing.

Fenrys leads the way into the restaurant, and there’s definitely paparazzi down the street snapping away at them as they cross the short distance from the car to the door. She tries to ignore it, she’ll text Elide once they’re done here, even though Elide will probably be overjoyed. It’s probably (definitely) easier to publicise your talent when she’s out there doing things with other famous people compared to staying inside her home alone.

Fenrys greets the staff on the door and they lead them through the restaurant to a staircase at the back of the room and it leads up to a private space with only one table. Right, privacy. Some of these guys are proper celebrities.

They’re the last ones there, and there’s two seats left at the table. Manon is here, so is Rowan and one of the executive producers who she thinks is called Gavriel.

“Alright guys, you all know Aelin,” Fenrys says and she smiles as they greet her.

Fenrys holds a chair out for her, the one next to Rowan, and she slides into it as he takes the one on her other side.

Rowan offers her a quirk of his lips, one she returns as she takes him in. He’s wearing short sleeves this time and she gets a good look at the tattoo snaking the whole way down his left arm. It’s in the Old Language and she can’t read it, even though her father had spent hours trying to teach her when she was a kid, but the lettering is beautiful and neat. She wants to reach out and touch, to trace the lines that roll down his golden skin.

She doesn’t. Obviously.

A waiter comes over to take their drink orders, Fenrys gets a beer, Manon and Gavriel opt for wine, but Rowan asks for an orange juice. He’s not drinking either and she wonders if it’s related to the reason he needs this movie to go well. So she’s nosy? So what?

She sits back and observes as the conversation flows, laughing along at the easy banter that flows between the three men and the sarcastic quips Manon throws in. Fenrys clearly understated his relationship with Rowan, they seem tight and have a clear fondness for one another. It’s easy to slot herself in as the night progresses, snarking with Manon and joining in with the general light-hearted mockery of Fenrys.

She thinks maybe so far she’s got Rowan wrong.

Tonight he’s quick-witted and charming, and he makes his best effort to include her in the conversation which she appreciates. It’s a contrast to the dark and teasing side of him she’s seen so far in the hallway and the table read. Maybe he’s decided to just start again, pretend they never met before she was cast, and she can do that too.

“So, Aelin.” Manon turns the spotlight to her after a while. “Tell us the scoop. I’ve not seen you in anything for a while.”

It’s not a nasty question, Aelin can just tell from the way she asks it, nothing more than genuine curiosity lies in her tone even if the phrasing is somewhat harsh. Manon might not be the bubbliest of characters, she’s blunt and doesn’t beat around the bush, but she’s not unkind, and Aelin doubts if she knew the truth she’d ask that question in such a way.

Elide managed to keep the worst of her… career break? One could phrase it more like breakdown, out of the limelight. She somehow managed to keep the worst of it hidden, and Aelin will owe her that for the rest of her life.

All the world knows is that Sam was murdered when they were both still newbies to their respective industries, neither of them had had their big break yet, and after that she took a break. For three years.

She remembers the headlines from the time, most were in smaller magazines, Sam wasn’t famous enough to make the front pages. Her mouth tastes like bile.

Singer-Songwriter Sam Cortland, 20, murdered in random street attack in Orynth, girlfriend Aelin Ashryver unharmed and working with police to identify suspect.

No one knows she knelt there in his blood begging for him to open his eyes, not even Aedion, or Lysandra or Elide, and she blinks back the image now. Her hands are curled into fists below the table and she forces herself to uncurl them and lay them flat against her jeans.

“Yeah,” she says after clearing her throat. “I took a break from it all for a few years, but I’m back now obviously and really excited for it.”

Manon nods and Gavriel raises a glass. He’s been nothing but kind to her all night. He kind of reminds her of her father, though he’s not that old, probably not even forty yet. He’s softly spoken and counters each snarky comment from Fenrys or Manon with something softer but no less amusing.

“Good to hear,” Fenrys says with a grin, clinking his glass against Gavriel’s.

The way Rowan watches her as he raises his own glass in a toast to her, careful and without speaking, tells her he knows. At least the basics about Sam, and it seems like maybe he did google her just like she joked back at the table read.

Their meals arrive then, mercifully taking the attention away from her. She needs to find a better way to deal with the attention than shutting down, especially if this film is going to be as big as everyone thinks it will be. She should call her therapist.

She will.

Eventually.

They leave the restaurant not long after, Fenrys covering the bill, emphasising that this was a celebration and an initiation for Aelin. She almost blushes for some unknown reason at his words, but she likes it. It sounds good. Like she really is back, or at least will be.

They each give her their numbers, and she likes the way he’s in her phone now as Rowan rather than Rowan Whitethorn, it feels like he’s not just someone from work. Not just her boss.

They each say goodbye and share a series of embraces, ignoring the small group of paparazzi that follow, desperate for any kind of incriminating image of any of the five of them. It’s clear that most of them are here for Fenrys, but she still makes sure to keep her expression clear and guarded as Rowan wraps her into a one-armed hug when they leave. It’s not just for the paparazzi.

Back in her apartment, when she’s tucked up in bed knowing she should be asleep, she can’t stop herself from googling him. She’s honestly surprised she’s lasted this long.

The first few news articles to come up are all about the movie and she scrolls past them, instead pulling up his Wikipedia page and scrolling straight to the personal life section. Maybe this is the weirdest way anyone’s ever got to know a friend, but she’s intrigued and still slightly flustered by him so it will do.

The section on his personal life is relatively bare, and it doesn’t surprise her. His Instagram account alone told her pretty explicitly that he’s a private kind of guy. She almost scrolls away after the first few lines, they don’t give her much information other than the college he went to and the languages he speaks, but she reads the final few lines of the section anyway.

In March 2018 Whitethorn’s fiance, Lyria Woods, passed away as the result of a road traffic accident. The driver of the other vehicle was found to be under the influence of alcohol at the time of the accident and was later sentenced to 6 years in prison for death by dangerous driving. Woods was 12 weeks pregnant with their child at the time of the accident.

Only a couple of weeks after the Oscars that she and Lysandra watched. She does the maths and realises this is his first film since then and thinks she knows what Fenrys meant.

Fucking shit.

Her second day of shooting goes better than the first, just as Fenrys said it would.

She’s more relaxed when she crosses the set from her trailer with a coffee in hand and she thinks she knows her place a little better now, even after only one night spent with the others.

She lies back while her make up is done, chatting to the make-up artist instead of sitting silently like the day before, and she’s almost ready for the discomfort that her wet hair will bring. The weather adds to the atmosphere of the film, dark and dreary and moody, and she gets why they’re doing it, but it still sucks.

Fenrys is ready when she gets there, and while she’s not avoiding Rowan today after finding out about his… past, she just finds it difficult to look him in the eye knowing what she does. He probably wouldn’t be surprised that she knew, if it’s on Wikipedia it’s public knowledge and they have made jokes about googling each other, but she feels weird in a way that she didn’t learn it from him. It feels intrusive, or invasive, to find out about something like that through Wikipedia.

But even though they bonded somewhat last night, and he greeted her this morning with an easy hey, they’re still not close. No matter that she thinks she might want them to be. She’s trying again to ignore the way she feels drawn to him, the way her eyes seek him out without her permission.

She knows she kills the take. Knows it from the high five Fenrys slaps against her palm once Rowan’s called cut and from the swift nod he offers her when she glances towards him.

There seem to be two Rowan’s too, there’s the award winning director Rowan Whitethorn, and then just Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn is cool and calculating and distant, quiet while he watches their scene from his place behind the camera, the big black headphones he uses pushed down around his neck. His eyes are as sharp as a hawk’s while he watches for all the minute details of their expressions and any improvements they could make. He doesn’t give her that many she’s pleased to note.

The way he instructs them is impressive, with clear directions and thoughtful analyses. She’s been here two days and she knows how he got the Oscar nomination, he’s scarily intelligent and seems to know exactly what’s off about a performance before she figures it out herself.

The other side to him, the side that is just Rowan is…

Just Rowan is the one she likes more.

She suspects the smile he gives her later, after they’ve nailed the bulk of the scene in one take and she’s being twirled around by Fenrys, comes from him.

She has two full days off in a row, and she decides the best use of her time is to go and stay with Aedion and Lysandra. Fenrys isn’t free, and the reason she is is that he has a load of solo scenes to shoot, and she doesn’t envy him at all.

Lysandra is ecstatic when she announces via a group text to her and Aedion that she’ll be at their house for lunchtime, and she loves it, but it makes her feel a little guilty. That she’s let it get to the point when her friend reacts like that at her promise of a visit is quite frankly appalling, but she finally feels as if she’s taken the first step. She’s on the bottom rung of the ladder, and it’s taken her a while, but she’s there now.

Aedion and Lysandra live in a disgustingly big house in a gated part of the suburbs, and she knows the house isn’t exactly what they would have chosen in an ideal world, it’s too big and garish and grey, but there are gates by the entrance and 24 hour security.

It still messes with her head that Aedion is that famous. Aedion. Her gangly cousin, always too tall for his own good, who used to pull her hair when they were kids and sneak her extra helpings of cake at family parties before her parents divorced. She doesn’t know that much about football, so little in fact that her dad and Aedion teased her relentlessly for years, but everyone tells her he’s good.

Like really good.

The salary he gets from the Ravens is more than enough proof.

She rings their front door bell and she can hear Lysandra’s quick steps before the big wooden door is pulled open.

Her friend is glowing. Her dark hair falls into waves near the end and her staggeringly beautiful face is free of any make-up and unblemished and dewy. She’s had time to get over the insecurities that come from being friends with Lysandra so it barely phases her as she wraps her arms around her friend.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers into Lysandra’s hair. It smells like coconut and citrus and just Lysandra.

“I missed you too. So much,” Lysandra sighs as she pulls back, dragging Aelin into the house and shutting the door.

Their hallway is grand and open but there’s a pile of their shoes by the wall and a rack of coats that make it feel more homely. There are framed photos carefully arranged on the sideboard in the entry way that show the two of them with their whole family and all of their friends.

There’s one on there of Aelin and Lysandra at eighteen, their arms thrown tightly around each other while they grin massive, excited smiles at the camera, or more likely Elide behind it. She remembers the day it was taken, Lysandra had signed to her first agency and arranged to move to Rifthold, and they had taken her out to celebrate.

It was around the same time she signed for her first movie, a tiny role with two lines and twenty seconds of screen time but it got the ball rolling with her first proper acting credit, and she’ll never forget it.

A head of golden hair pokes around the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall and she lets her cousin sweep her up into a hug, swinging her up and around so her feet dangle above the floor.

“Alien, we’ve missed you.”

A stupid nickname from when they were young, the kind of young where he thought it was hilarious to replace her name with an extraterrestrial, but it only makes her smile now, squeezing her cousin tight before he puts her back down.

“Yeah, I bet you’ve been lost without me.” She beams at them, taking a moment to soak in how it feels to be with them even as Aedion rolls his eyes. “I’ve missed you both too.”

“Lunch is ready, come on,” Aedion tells her as he takes her case and drags it through the house, leaving it by the bottom of the stairs. It’s then that she spots the frilly pink apron tied around his waist.

“Alright,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to try what the domestic goddess has in store for us.”

Peals of laughter burst out of Lysandra and she grins back at her, forever grateful that they managed to keep their relationship with each other from ever impacting on their relationship with Aelin. At first she had been worried that Aedion and Lysandra would become AedionAndLysandra and that she wouldn’t have a place left with them, but she needn’t have worried, and they worked too well together for Aelin to have ever wished for anything different.

“Gods, shut up,” he mutters, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the kitchen. “So annoying, both of you.”

She grins as she hears Lysandra smack an overly dramatic kiss to his cheek.

Aedion’s a surprisingly good cook, the lunch he’s made is tasty despite being carefully planned to fit into both his and Lysandra’s strict meal plans. If they’re the cost needed to be able to live in a house like this, Aelin doesn’t want it.

“So,” Aedion says after he’s finished chewing a mouthful. “How are things going?”

He asks it with a gentle kind of sensitivity that she understands what he’s really asking. She knows it’s code for are you still sober? but she also knows he hasn’t asked it because he doubts her. Aedion and Lysandra have always been in her corner, even in her darkest moments they were there.

She never wants to put them through anything like that ever again. Never wants them to experience anything as terrifying as the last night she ever touched a drug. That night, almost a year ago now, will forever be the bottom of her pit. She doesn’t remember much of it, other than the devastation on Aedion’s face as he carried her out of the men’s toilets of a seedy nightclub in Perranth. The way he’d bitten his lip as he picked her up off the sticky floor, pulling the hem of her dress down to cover her underwear where it had ridden up.

The thought makes her sick.

He’d had to skip a game, leading to a bollocking from his coach, but he’d done it for her. Had carried her out of the club and into a car, waiting to take them back to his house. Lysandra had stroked her hair where she lay on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor while Aedion called a doctor to the house. Even through his panic he had thought of her and how little she would want it publicised that she’d been pulled out of a club, off her fucking rocker on whatever substance she’d been given by the lowlives she had fallen in with. She’s really, really lucky that for once Aedion hadn’t been followed by paparazzi.

She takes a sip of her sparkling water before she answers, it feels like all she ever drinks these days and it tastes like shit but it’s worth it if she never reverts back to where she was.

“I’m good.” She’s almost surprised to find that it’s true. “I’m feeling much better.”

She can barely look at them, can barely take the level of subdued joy on their faces.

“We’re glad Aelin, really glad.” Lysandra’s voice is sincere.

“So, how’s the new project going?” Aedion asks her, sensing her discomfort almost immediately.

“That’s good too actually.” It is. It feels good to have something positive to focus on, something that she feels is productive and worth doing. “It’s nice to be back and be busy even if the morning shoots begin disgustingly early. It’s good to be on set, surrounded by it all again and to remember that I can actually do this.”

She stabs her fork through a piece of tomato a little aggressively as she finishes and the look Lysandra shoots her tells her she’s not impressed with the self-deprecation but that she’ll let it slide for now.

“And Fenrys Moonbeam, is he really that good looking in real life?”

Aelin laughs. “More actually, sometimes it's too much.”

“Nice,” Lysandra nods appreciatively.

“Is he alright though?” Ever the overprotective older brother figure, she expected some version of this question from Aedion.

“He’s great. He’s hilarious and it really helps on the long days,” she says before taking her next bite.

“And Rowan Whitethorn’s directing isn’t he? What’s he like?”

Aelin blinks and finishes chewing slowly. “He’s… fine.”

She knows she’s fucked it when Aedion and Lysandra share a look, matching smirks beginning on each of their faces.

“Fine,” Lysandra repeats. “What exactly does fine mean Aelin?”

She purses her lips. “He’s a great director.”

Lysandra rolls her eyes. “And?”

She could probably lie here, they’d probably let it slide if she said some bullshit about how they’ve not spoken much and how she barely knows him, but she honestly needs to talk to someone about this. You know, to set her straight.

“And he’s really hot.”

She’s blushing as Lysandra laughs and Aedion chuckles.

“You’ve got a crush,” Lysandra sing-songs, and when she doesn't respond she says, “Have you got a picture of him? I don’t think I actually know what he looks like.”

She can’t blame Lysandra for that, she’s still kicking herself for not recognising him that day in the hallway, but he was only on screen for a few seconds at the Oscars and it wasn’t long after Sam so it wasn’t like she was paying attention in that way. She still thinks she should have noticed.

She pulls her phone out to find the only picture she has on there with Rowan. She had only taken it this week when they were eating breakfast with Fenrys one morning, in one of the tents that had been set up for them to sit in between takes, and Fenrys had pulled his phone out to snap a photo of her for his Instagram story.

She’d been wrapped up in one of the huge parkas they’re given for the times in between scenes holding her croissant high up in the air when he’d taken it. He’d captioned it she could have dropped her croissant and tagged her, and she’d gained a good few thousand followers. She’s almost at a million and they’re only a couple of weeks into shooting.

She had taken one of him in response and then spun around to force Rowan into a selfie with her, he’d protested but she’d pouted until he relented, grumbling something about actors that she knew he didn’t mean. She didn’t post it anywhere, she kept it to herself and she can’t lie, she’s looked at it way too many times since.

She’s smiling a wide smile, cheeks stuffed full of her croissant and it’s really kind of gross, but the small smile on Rowan’s face makes it bearable. More than bearable, she has to resist the temptation to make it her lock screen because that would be weird.

She remembers the heat of his chest where he had stood behind her to lean down so their faces were level, the hand he rested on her shoulder to steady himself and the way his fingers had brushed against her neck in the lightest caress.

She hands the phone over to Lysandra and wants to pull it back almost immediately.

It’s not that she’s embarrassed or whatever, even if they think it’s a bad idea they’d let her down gently, it's just that their opinion matters to her a lot. And while they haven’t exactly approved of her string of random hookups in the years since Sam, they’ve never tried to comment on it other than to check she’s in a good place with it, but she knows they’re waiting for the next person she sees seriously.

There’s a fairly large part of her that thinks her first relationship since Sam shouldn’t be with her boss. And that fucks her up a bit, because since when was she considering a relationship with him?

“Oh yeah,” Lysandra says, scaring away the intrusive thought and raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “He’s hot alright.”

Aedion nods along, peering over Lysandra’s shoulder. Lysandra’s eyes are far too knowing when she looks back up at Aelin and passes the phone over. She doesn’t say a word before locking the phone and sliding it back into her pocket.

“You’ll have to invite us to set sometime.” Lysandra is sneaky but not subtle.

“I will,” she agrees.

The next week flies by, she shoots every single day but one, and she’s far too exhausted each night to do anything other than scrounge up a measly meal that can be pulled together from her cupboard basics and the limited vegetables in her fridge before falling straight asleep. They’ve made good progress so far, and she knows it's going to be good, but she’s tired.

She’s seen a lot more of the process outside of her own character by now too, and she’s amazed, but not surprised, when she persuades one of the crew to let her watch back one of Fenrys’ solo scenes from the previous week. He’s a phenomenal actor, that much is clear, but she had allowed herself to get caught up in Fenrys as her friend, the happy and funny guy she spends her time with, forgetting the talented and driven lead actor of their movie.

Not that she can forget it in the scenes they share, but she’s mostly concentrating on the emotions her character is going through, and responding to what Fenrys gives her. It almost feels too natural for him, and she forgets that it takes work.

His text meets her at lunchtime on the Sunday they both have off, when she’s still in her pyjamas on the couch, debating whether to start a new series or watch the latest cheesy rom-com that Netflix has released.

She auditioned for one of them a couple of years ago, and she’s far enough past the bitterness that comes with not getting the role that she could enjoy it. Maybe a little, cynical part of herself thinks she’s glad she didn’t get it. What she has now is far better. She’s being a snob, but she straight up doesn’t care. It’s not like anyone else is here to judge her.

Fancy coming to Rowan’s to watch the game? I’m leaving in 20 his text reads.

She didn’t plan on doing anything today, but the invitation sparks something in her, and she’s never been to Rowan’s place before. The studio put him in a house about thirty minutes from set, and she’s curious. How much luxury does the big name director get compared to what she and Fenrys have got? She’s lucky really, that Dorian managed to negotiate the same for her as they offered Fenrys.

rowan’s??? She replies, followed by what game????

She gets up off the couch, putting the lid on the tub of yoghurt she was tucking into with a spoon and walking through to the kitchen to throw it back into the fridge.

Tall, grumpy guy that bosses us around all the time comes through a minute later and she grins at her phone at the description. It’s followed up by Ravens v Panthers.

She taps out, getting changed will be ready in 15 and he replies with three smiling emojis.

She doesn’t think it will be anything fancy if her impromptu invitation is anything to go by so she only swaps her pyjama bottoms with tiny cartoon sheep down the legs for a pair of black leggings and throws a sweatshirt over her oversized t-shirt.

Manon is there when they get there, sprawled across the two seater sofa at the far side of Rowan’s living room, and she gives them both a wave when they enter the room. The house is a pretty modest, two-up two-down in a sweet neighbourhood and it’s cosy inside with relatively modern decor. She doesn’t know for sure whether or not that fits Rowan, but she feels like it does.

He doesn’t let them in, Fenrys swings the door open and marches in like it’s his own place and she wonders how much he and Rowan have hung out, or whether that’s just him. Rowan appears in the doorway about a minute after they come in, a bowl of snacks in his hand that she thinks could be popcorn and he puts it down before coming over to wrap Fenrys in a hug. They slap each other on the back in the way that guys do before pulling back.

Aelin stands at Fenrys’ side watching the exchange, unsure whether to greet Rowan or just take a seat, and once they’re done he seems to regard her with the same sort of uncertainty. Fenrys darts around Rowan to throw himself onto the other sofa and she doesn’t give herself long enough to doubt her decision before she opens her arms and steps towards him.

“Hey,” he says simply as he wraps her into a brief hug. “Thanks for coming.”

She wraps her arms around his own broad shoulders, and it feels nice. He’s warm and strong beneath her hands and the way his arms loop around her waist, so far his hands reach back around to her stomach, gets her in a way that she really doesn’t need to think about. It feels really good pressed up against him like that.

“Hey,” she breathes as he pulls back, and she knows he sees the blush on her cheeks. She’s not fifteen, she really needs to sort herself out. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course, make yourself at home.” He gives her another half smile, offering a flash of his straight, white teeth, and again she’s struck by him. That his place is behind the camera is a crime. “I’ve got more snacks and drinks in the kitchen if you want.”

“Beer?” Fenrys asks her, already heading to a door that she assumes leads to the kitchen.

She shakes her head, “do you have sparkling water?” She directs the question to Rowan who nods.

He doesn’t have to speak before Fenrys says “on it,” and leaves the room.

She assesses the seating choices left in the room, there’s a cream two-seater sofa opposite where Manon lies, and that’s probably her best bet, but Rowan has already taken his seat on it, an ankle crossed over a knee as he settles into the cushions. There’s plenty of room to sit by him and not touch, and she weighs it up against having to ask Manon to move.

She’s friendly with the girl, but still feels slightly intimidated by the calculating and sarcastic blonde despite the fact that she’s a few years younger than Aelin herself, so maybe Rowan is the safer choice.

Fenrys comes back into the room just as she takes her seat.

“Move your feet, Blackbeak,” he demands as he hands her a glass of sparkling water, it’s chilled with a couple of cubes of ice and she appreciates it.

Manon lifts her legs for Fenrys to sit, but plops her legs back down across his lap immediately and sticks her tongue out at him as she does. Aelin feels herself smile at the display, and the fact that she’s included in this circle of friends. She hasn’t really made an effort with anyone new since Sam, the only people she’s really spoken to are Elide, Lysandra and Aedion, and they were all there for her before Sam. It feels really damn good.

She really, really, doesn’t understand the rules of football, but it’s easy enough to cheer along when the others do and laugh at their outrage when something doesn’t go their way. It’s the most animated she’s seen Rowan so far, and she’s not quite sure which way their allegiances lie, but it’s probably with the Ravens being in Rifthold and all, and she knows her own is.

Everytime Aedion gets the ball or is shown on screen she can’t hold back the cheers. She’s proud of him and she knows how hard he works to be as good as he is, and even knowing as little as she does, it's special to watch him excel.

Rowan and Fenrys both seem a little starstruck that he’s her cousin, to her he’s just Aedion and they’re the real, scary celebrities, but they gush about him like starstruck little boys.

“And you were at his house last weekend?” Fenrys cries, almost outraged that this is the first he’s ever heard of it, but honestly? They’re both Ashryvers; it’s not like it's a secret.

“Yes,” she laughs. “He’s basically like my brother.”

“Gods, Aelin.” He sounds almost pained that she hasn’t brought this up before. “You've been holding out on us! Please give me his number or introduce me or something.”

“Sorry.” She laughs again and throws a smile to Rowan that he returns with another quirk of his lips. “Invite me earlier next time and I’ll ask him to sort a box for us at the stadium.”

“Seriously?” Even Rowan sounds awed now.

“Yeah, just let me know,” she says. “It’s no big deal.”

It really wouldn't be, Aedion has been telling her for years to invite any friends she wants to games, she would just need some friends outside of him, Lysandra and Elide first.

“It’s definitely a big deal,” he says, watching her with a smirk still playing on his lips.

She shrugs. “Just make sure you text me early next time.”

“Oh, I will,” he says, and she has to look away from him. The way his voice curves around the words, all low and intense, is definitely about more than just the game.

She tries to pass it off as just looking to where Fenrys is cheering loudly at the next play, but Manon is there again, looking at her with such a knowing expression that she immediately focuses back on the TV.

At half time she needs to use the bathroom and Rowan gives her a quick rundown of the layout of the house. She’s quick to do her thing and runs by the kitchen afterwards to grab a refill of her drink and find something to eat.

Rowan had told them all to help themselves, explaining that he felt they had as much right as he to poke through the cupboards in the only just filled rental property and she gets it. The places the studio rent out for them are nice enough, and she’s more than grateful that they do, but it’s never quite home. Even if her home is somewhat impersonal, it’s still home.

She’s on her tiptoes, scanning through the relatively well stocked cupboards on the hunt for anything chocolate, when someone enters the kitchen behind her.

“I know I said help yourselves, but you’re going to eat me out of house and home at this rate.”

It’s Rowan, and he leans against the doorframe as he watches her startle and spin to face him, his legs are crossed at the ankles and his arms are folded over his chest. The pose highlights his powerful arms that she wants to be wrapped up in again and he looks really good in the dim lighting of the kitchen. It bounces off the lines of his tattoo, shining and highlighting the swirls that she can barely look away. She wants to ask what it means.

Aelin scoffs and pushes the cupboard door shut gently, they’re not eating that much and if they are it’s definitely not her, Fenrys and Manon are another story.

“There’s nothing stopping you from kicking us all out,” she says and he laughs, shaking his head.

He tilts his head to the side, his gaze picking her apart by the second before he says “maybe not all of you.”

His words and the way he shifts in the doorway as his eyes run her up and down gives her the confidence to bite her lip and look up at him through her lashes. He pushes off the door frame and comes to lean against the counter by her side.

He opens a cupboard door on her other side and rummages through a shelf before handing her a foil packet.

“I have a feeling this is what you were after.”

She accepts the chocolate and tucks it onto the counter at her side as she mirrors him and leans against it too.

“Unsurprisingly, you’d be correct.”

He presses his lips together before his lips twist again, it’s the same expression from before that she knows means he wants to smile but he can’t quite commit, and she feels her body loosen like she wants to lean forward to press into him. She doesn’t though.

What she does instead is take a sharp breath and a step back. “Thanks.” She waves the bar of chocolate in the air before stepping around him and making her way back into the living room, forcing her steps to seem calm and collected as she feels his gaze heavy on her back.

“Anytime.” His words follow her out of the room, they’re a promise.

Luckily, Fenrys and Manon both ignore it when Rowan follows her and retakes his place next to her.

[beardrabbles]

rock solid bonds.        pt. one

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 3,858 ( it’s LONG, y’all, sorry )

notes: first thing tossed into the genshin fandom is zhongli because i’m weak. so very weak. i know this idea is strange, but i’m running with it. this will have many parts, just not sure how many. anywho! :D hey. how’s it going? nice to meet’cha. oh!! also. i don’t have a beta reader, so there may be typos i’ve missed. oof.

You had made this trip several times before, and you assumed that this trip would be no different. You skirted around small packs of curious hilichurl, scooped up seashells from the many beaches you followed and swam through the clear, blue waters of Guyun Stone Forest until — finally — you reached the island you had been visiting over the course of several months.

The moment your water-logged feet touched solid ground rather than loose sand, you felt it — the faint traces of a low, constant vibration. It was a steady buzzing, except where the intensity would pulse every now and again, like a living heartbeat.

‘ It’s here, ’ you thought, ‘ good. ’

You hurried to rest against the crumbling wall of the ruins where the hypostasis often lingered, allowing yourself a moment to dry off and rummage through your supplies. No matter how routine this was, you knew you couldn’t become complacent. You could handle the stubborn bundle of geo, no problem, but you knew it never hurt to be prepared.

From your bag, you pulled out a wrapped bundle of fried fish and a single, elegant vial of a bright yellow liquid. You sloshed the liquid around, recalling the last time you’d been overconfident and forgone making the geo dampening potion. You had returned home that day with several more bruises the usual, and so you had firmly reminded yourself at you would prepare some, even if it had meant several days worth of butterfly chasing.

“You got lucky last time. Saw you learned a new move, but I’m smart. I learned.” You lifted the stopper out of the vial and knocked back the contents. The effects were immediate. You didn’t look it, but you felt thicker, sturdier, more centered. You hoped that was the effect of the potion, anyway. Nothing would sour your mood more than to realize the person you’d hired to make the potion had fouled it up.

Shrugging, you placed the empty vial into your pack, gulped down several bites of fried fish, then left your pack tucked up against the wall and behind a mess of tangled roots. Your hands moved next to the handle of your weapon, which peeked out from over your shoulder. With a heave, you brought out the claymore you so adored. It was nicked in places and scuffed in others, yet you found you were too attached. It had gotten you through too many battles, and it felt wrong to abandon it.

“Alright, we’ve got this. Just a few more months of this, and we can——!” Your self-given peptalk was cut short when you glanced around the wall and found that the hypostasis wasn’t alone. Choking on your own words, you quickly ducked back into the hiding. “Dammit! Someone’s already here.”

You set your claymore aside and pressed your hands to the wall, using it to lean around and peek.

“Huh.  .  .” Strange. Nearly every time you found the raw elemental, it had its defenses up. Even as it seemingly napped in place, it surrounded itself in solid, almost unbreakable basalt. Now, in front of this tall stranger, it was nothing more than its small, brightly glowing core. It bobbed and spun, giving off the sunshine-bright disposition of a puppy.

It was almost cute.

Interesting as the hypostasis was in this form, you found yourself drawn to the stranger interacting with it. Slender but strong, standing tall and straight, with a single hand that wove through the air around the exposed core. From where you stood, you couldn’t quite tell who he was, but something about him felt familiar.

‘ I’ve seen him before. ’ The earthen tones of his clothes and hair, the elegance and the poise. You were certain you had seen someone similar making their way through the streets of the harbor before. And, in his wake, came dreamy sighs and low purrs of admiration from all manner of people. The name eluded you, mostly because you didn’t care. He was a stranger, and you had no reason to acknowledge him until now.

“Why does it look like he’s playing with it?” You huffed through your nose, feeling thoroughly irritated that your chance to mine precious gems from the hypostasis had been squandered.

Without meaning to, you let out a groan of frustration.

The elemental core gave a sudden jolt, it’s small form jerking away from the man. In an instant, it wrapped itself in its armor, dark basalt etched with shimmering lines of gold appearing in large, even chunks. You gasped and ducked back for a second time, your heart rapidly beating against your chest. It didn’t know you were there. It couldn’t! You weren’t that loud, were you?

“Moron!” You scolded yourself and made to snatch your pack up when a voice, smooth and deep, reached you.

“I know you’re there.”

You stopped and stood still, as if that would render you completely untraceable. Breath held, but heart still hammering, you waited.

“It would benefit you greatly to come out of hiding.” The voice continued, calm and even.

Something about the voice made you reluctant to run. Shuddering and setting aside your things, you willingly stepped out from behind the crumbling ruins. Hands up and empty, you first revealed that you were unarmed. Harmless. Totally harmless.

“Ah, there you are.” There was a hint of satisfaction in the man’s tone, but you hardly paid attention. Your focus was intent on the sensation soaking through the soles of your boots. The vibration from earlier wasn’t as calm as it had been, the heartbeat-like thrum from earlier replaced with an anxious tattoo that traveled through your legs and up into your chest. You found yourself catching your breath, a horrible feeling welling inside your ribcage.

“Am I causing that?” Your own voice was soft and feeble and sincere. The man approached at a slow but steady clip, until he stood a mere foot away. His arms were folded behind him, making him appear even more refined up close.

“I wasn’t expecting you to realize your mistake so quickly. Good. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining it.” He arched a single brow. “Might I ask your name?”

“Uh.  .  .” You shook yourself from your mounting guilt and lowered your hands. He was polite, but you could tell from the sharp look in his amber eyes that he didn’t approve of your presence, and rightfully so. Still, you didn’t want to deny him your name when he had yet to force you off the island. You muttered your name, and he let out a thoughtful hum before repeating it.

Never had you heard your own name on a voice that alluring. It balanced on a fine line between heavenly and sinful, and you wished deeply that he would never, ever say it again. It sounded too good, and your heart already had its share of problems to deal with at the moment, shame being one of them.

“Seen you around the harbor before, but I can’t remember your name.” You gently prompted him to give his own name in return, hoping it wouldn’t be seen as rude. The corner of his lips turned up a fraction, but that hint of a smile didn’t last long.

“I am Zhongli. Under different circumstances, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you.” Still scolding, still disapproving. You shrank under his gaze, but still found it in you to speak in turn.

“I’ve never seen it out of its armor for that long before.” You observed.

“I wonder why that is.  .  .” Zhongli turned to face the elemental, his broad shoulders rising and lowering with a heavy sigh. Guilt punched you in the gut again.

“I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but you had never once been convinced that your mining had been detrimental to the hypostasis.

“It cannot speak for itself, so you were lead to believe that your harvesting was harmless.” Zhongli mused as he ventured towards the elemental again. “That is understandable. But now that you are aware, now that you feel the effect your presence has on it, are you willing to change?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but were stopped but a sudden thought.

For the sake of a voiceless, sentient being, were you willing to change? Yes.        Were you able? No.

You hurried to follow Zhongli and weren’t the least bit surprised when the hypostasis kept its distance, basalt armor quaking with fear. You stopped your advance, keeping well behind Zhongli.

“I can’t.”

“Oh?” He didn’t turn his attention to you, but kept it intent on the elemental. He lifted a gloved hand, the palm resting carefully along the surface of one cube of armor. “That is a shame. I was hoping you’d be agreeable.”

“No, it’s — it’s not that I don’t want to. I want to! I didn’t know it was.  .  .”

“Capable of feelings?”

You nodded despite knowing he couldn’t see you.

“All things feel, all things remember. The lack of a voice does not make one unworthy of thoughts or memories, good or bad.” Zhongli smoothed his hand over the armor of the hypostasis. “It remembers. You are quite brutal.”

“I’m sorry.” You directed this to the hypostasis rather than him. “I didn’t know.”

“And yet you blatantly refuse to change your behavior?” Zhongli’s sharp gaze landed on you again.

“I have an obligation! I’m bound to my word.” Your hackles rose for a moment, but were lowered again soon after. “I have a contract.”

At this, Zhongli came to face you. “A contract?”

“I don’t know why I should tell you.” Your stubbornness reared its ugly head in that moment. Arms crossed, you waited for him to coldly dismiss you. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back and cooly stared you down.

“Contracts are, for better or worse, binding. I understand that, when broken, there can be dire consequences. Is this an official contract?” He wondered. You wanted to hold firm to your refusal to speak of it, but the man’s calm nature made it difficult.

Shifting uneasily, you gave another nod.

“Yes.”

“Are you barred from discussing the terms of the contract with people unrelated to the contract itself?” Each question was asked quickly and sharply, as if practiced. You frowned, moreso out of thought than offense.

“I don’t think so. No one’s ever told me I’m not allowed.”

“Then, please, indulge me. What about this contract requires you to mine as often as you do?”

“You want the long version or the short version?” You reached up to rub at the space between your eyebrows, mounting stress threatening to bring forward a headache.

“Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

“If you say so. My family’s in a tight spot, yeah? We owe some people a lot of money, but most of the people involved are too old, too frail or too inexperienced to go out and earn the mora we need. The people that are hounding us thought, hey, let’s get the daughter to go out and find these precious materials. No one can pass up on free labor, right? I work for them, I slowly whittle away at the debt my family’s worked up for the last few years.” You shrugged casually to hide the fact that the contract was draining you of your free time and, apparently, your morals.

Zhongli frowned, a wrinkle knitting his brows together.

“What are the exact terms on your contract?” He asked, ignoring a nudge against his shoulder from the hypostasis.

“There are quite a few, but the one causing me the most trouble right now is the fact that I need to come here every day and pick out the prithiva from your friend there.” You didn’t miss the shudder in the rocks or the way the hypostasis fled yet again, putting space between you and itself. Zhongli motioned for the hypostasis to calm, but the trembling remained.

“I need the terms as they were worded the day the contract was made.” Zhongli requested firmly this time.

“Three prithiva gems, whole and unblemished, every day for a year. Even if it means getting the slivers and asking someone to do their alchemy-thing on it, I gotta get those gems.”

Zhongli’s stern gaze softened as he motioned for the hypostasis to come nearer.

“That’s all?”

“When it comes to this fella, yeah. I just need the gems.” This time, you were the one to step away from the coming hypostasis. It was clear you had scarred the creature, and you weren’t about to disrespect it in front of this man, who so clearly cherished the living geo.

“You aren’t required to fight and take it?” He continued.

“They never said I did, but it was the only way I could think to fulfill the terms.” You slumped in place and let out a little whine. “Don’t tell me I could have just asked for it.”

“Did you consider the possibility?” Zhongli quipped.

“No! I didn’t think it could understand people!” You stressed with a growl. Zhongli chuckled, the sound taking you aback.

“It doesn’t understand language, but it understands intent. Come here.” The command was subtle, but you felt compelled to obey. Cautiously, you took to Zhongli’s side. His taller frame shadowed yours, and you swore you caught the scent of sun-warmed stones and hints of glaze lilies as an errant ocean breeze whorled past. “Put your hand out, like me.”

You hesitated, and he took note of this.

“Be calm. If you’re afraid, it will know.” He coaxed you, sounding far gentler than he had since calling you out of your hiding spot.

“I’m not afraid,” you corrected, “I feel bad.”

“As deserving as the feeling is, you can make it right if it is your intent to.” Zhongli pointed out. You sucked in a breath, nodded once, then held your hand out. The hypostasis shuddered again and bobbed backwards. Zhongli frowned like a disapproving father and clicked his tongue. “I understand that she’s been cruel, but I believe her when she says she was unaware of how sentient you are. If we are to make amends, the effort needs to be mutual on both parts. As long as I am here, neither of you will come to harm.”

The hypostasis twitched and the armor around it lowered for a moment, but it was fleeting. In a small fit of hope, you drew closer and placed your hand against the glimmering armor. The protective chunks of rock snapped back into place around its dim core, spun rapidly in the air, then sunk down into the ground where all that remained were spider-web cracks that glowed as warm and bright as the sun.

You stood there, hand out and mouth agape.

“It ran away!”

Zhongli lowered his head for a moment. “This was not the result I imagined, but it is progress.”

You lowered your hand and rolled your eyes.

“How is that progress?” You snapped. Zhongli didn’t so much as flinch at your aggression, but sported a knowing smile that irritated your further.

“Gimel let you near without attacking out of instinct. I would say that counts as progress, small step as it is.” He spoke assuredly, and you supposed he had a point.

“Gimel?”

“It has a name. It may work in your favor to remember it.” Zhongli added.

“Yeah, well — what am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back empty-handed.” You grumbled and turned away, stalking back to the spot where you had stashed your bag. The effects of the potion you had drank earlier had begun to ware off, leaving you feeling oddly light and slightly off-balance. That, coupled with your plummeting mood, made you want to leave behind the island and hope that your contract wasn’t seen as broken.

Behind you, you heard the steady click of boots as Zhongli followed behind you.

“I have an offer.” He stopped when you did, and he didn’t miss the flicker of confusion and wariness in your eyes when you spun around.

“What kind of offer?” You were like a cornered animal, and you wondered if he had sensed your growing worry since Gimel had disappeared. You weren’t desperate yet, but that may have been because you had yet to fail in completing your end of the contract. The consequences were unknown, but you were sure you would regret returning to Liyue Harbor without the gems you were asked to retrieve. Still, you were concerned, and you knew it was hard to hide when you fidgeted the way you did.

“A contract.”

“No.”

“One that won’t break the conditions of the contract you’re currently bound to.” He continued in spite of your quick refusal. You crossed your arms and wrinkled your nose, but it only caused him to smile again. “Don’t be stubborn, girl.”

You scowled and felt a rare flare of anger rise, but he interrupted you with a shake of his head and a raise of his closed hand. Long, slender fingers unfurled, revealing a small handful of pristine prithiva topaz gemstones. It wasn’t out of greed that you lunged forward, but a deep desire to protect yourself and your family. You didn’t grab the gems, of course. It wouldn’t do to anger this man after he had shown you patience, but you wouldn’t deny that it was a tempting sight to see him holding the gems out for you to take.

You whetted your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue and spoke past the sandpaper feeling in your throat.

“What are your terms?” You croaked.

“You return to this place every day, unarmed and alone, to spend time with Gimel. In return, you will be rewarded with the gems required of you. As it’s clear they didn’t specify how you acquire them, it will not interfere with the terms of your current contract.” He raised both brows this time and held the gems out further. Your fingers twitched as you reached, but you didn’t take them.

“That’s all you want out of me?”

“We are merely acquaintances, but I hardly find it worthwhile to trick you into a dishonest contract. My terms are as simple as they sound. You cease hostilities against Gimel and attempt to right your wrongs, and you will have your gems. I only ask for a few hours spent here, nothing more. I can’t expect you to wrap your entire life around this one task.” He reached out to take one of your hands, turning the palm up. His touch was gentle and didn’t contest with your own freewill, but you let him do as he pleased.

His thumb uncurled your your fingers, followed the deep lines in your palm and smoothed over your wrist. Your cheeks burned, but you blamed the glaring sun overhead. He was only being kind, you told yourself.

“If I accept these, does that mean I accept the contract?”

“I’m afraid so.” He stepped closer, head and voice low. His dark hair framed his stoic expression, yet his hand on yours remained kind. “Your answer?”

You swallowed hard, weighed your options, then peered up into those vivid, autumn-tinted eyes. “Will you be here too?”

You weren’t sure what prompted such a question, but it seemed to catch him as off-guard as well. He blinked and pulled back for a moment. “Is this an amendment?”

“No,” you shook your head and dared to laugh, “just a request. I don’t think Gimel will trust me on my own, not at first.”

“Its trust will be be earned by your own merits, not because I am here.” Zhongli informed you stiffly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just think — maybe it would help if I observed you for a little while, maybe a few days. I can see how better to approach, then you can leave us be.” You tilted your head. “Is that unreasonable?”

“I.  .  . suppose it’s not. You are willing to learn, at least, and I cannot fault you for that. Very well. Starting tomorrow, I will accompany you for three days. After that, you are expected to use what you’ve learned on your own.” He closed his fingers around the gemstones and twisted his wrist, readying himself to drop them into your waiting hand. “Has your answer changed?”

You shook your head. “No, I planned to accept before.”

“Then we’re in agreement? You are aware of what will happen if you break the contract?” He warned. You nodded.

“I’m aware, trust me.” You wiggled your fingers impatiently. Zhongli placed the gems into your hand one at time, being sure not to chip or scratch them.

“Then it is done. I won’t be truly satisfied until you’ve signed a physical contract and we’ve made it official, but I will hold onto your word for the time being.” He helped your hand close around the gems, both of his own hands wrapped tightly around your clenched digits. “Find me at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor later tonight, and we can document our arrangement.”

“Sure thing, boss.” You pulled your hand away, the sensation of the gems in your grasp bringing you far more ease than you were happy with. To be so dependent on them made you nauseous, but Zhongli’s willingness to help made it a little less so. Although, you couldn’t help but to wonder why he was so quick to help. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“Is it not human nature to want to help?”

“I guess, but.  .  . there aren’t many that are as open and willing as you are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. It’s just unexpected. I didn’t think today would end the way it would.” You squirreled away the gems in your satchel, slung it over your shoulders, then affixed your claymore onto your back.

“Are you disappointed?” Zhongli calmly watched you pack up, head tilted slightly.

“Not at all.” You spared him a smile, a weight gradually lifting off your heart and shoulders. “I was annoyed at first, but I’m glad we got to meet, Mr. Zhongli.”

Another peel of soft laughter left the man, but it was hidden behind the side of his hand. “Then I will readily admit that I wasn’t expecting you to say that. I’m relieved you were so willing to cooperate, and.  .  . I am glad we had the chance to meet as well.”

You bounced once on the tips of your feet and gave him a mock salute. “Guess that means I’ll be seein’ you later! I’m going to pass these gems on, then I’ll pop by your place to sign my life away!”

You didn’t address the crinkle in his face at your jest, but you did snicker as you fled the island. Only when you were well out of sight did Gimel return, its core open to the air and nudging against Zhongli’s elbow.

The archon reached back to give the hypostasis a gentle stroke, but his eyes remained in the direction you had wandered off in.

“I have a feeling that our time with her will be very interesting.”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Wade Walker

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(As much as I love the vaccine scene in the movie, I tried my best to make a different “meeting” scenario)

- You and Crybaby meet at school. You’re not exactly a square or a drape, you mainly just keep to yourself which means that you both stand out yet are invisible at the same time.

- That’s the reason Crybaby never really noticed you before: he was more occupied with his gang; and occasionally fighting with the squares, to pay anyone else any mind.

- The thing about Crybaby is that he attaches himself to girls very quickly. He falls hard and fast for a multitude of reasons, all of which one can gather from his past. There’s this hole in his soul that he just keeps failing to fill …but then he sees you.

- You see, there’s this area of the school that only the drapes really go in. It’s the corridor that’s away from everything, where they put all the classrooms for the delinquents and those who don’t do their work.

- But your school doesn’t have separate teachers for every single class so when you need to talk to one of your teachers, you’re forced to go down that hall to do so. So go down there you did, and boy did people stare.

- As you’re walking; and feeling the gazes of people who aren’t too keen on you being there, you can’t help but take notice of the difference in a certain boys stare. While the others are borderline hostile, his is …beckoning, it’s like he’s calling you towards him. But that can’t be true, right?

- You quickly avert your eyes, gulp, and make your way into your teachers second classroom, trying your best to pay him and his gang no mind.

- Well, from then on, Wade Walker has his eyes set on you. You’ll find him watching you, staring from across parking lots, hallways, and lunchrooms. You would have assumed he was looking at something else had his gaze not been so intense and focused. You wondered if he was waiting for you to do something, or if he was giving you a warning; a promise that he was coming towards you soon.

- He finally does so after school one day. Like so many other days, you’d locked eyes as you walked down the front steps of the school. You’d contemplated just going up to him and finally saying hi, but you were brought out of the lure of his eyes by his gang sneering at everyone from beside him.

- That was when he decided to make his move; when he was sure that you liked him but just didn’t have the nerve to let him know yourself. He thought it was sweet; you were cute in a way that most drapes weren’t.

- As I mentioned before: people didn’t pay much attention to you so as you were going to begin your journey home, you got bumped into and subsequently ignored as your things went rocketing towards the ground.

- As you were knelt down, gathering your books, two scuffed up boots came into view and soon enough, Crybaby Walker had leant down and was handing you one in all his ever intense glory.

- You straightened up and took it from him, thanking him and shyly introducing yourself. By that point, the rest of his gang had made their way over and Wade told you his name before introducing the rest of them.

- He asked if you wanted to hang out with them, you told him that you had to get home before your parents worried, causing his gang to “ooo” at you. He didn’t pay them any mind and followed you as you slowly walked, offering you a ride home.

- Figuring that this was your chance, you gave him a smile and accepted, bringing a smile to his face as well. He slung an arm around your shoulder and nodded back at his hot rod, leading you along with him as he walked.

- You ended up in the back of the car, squished between Wanda and both Hatchet-face and Milton; Hatchet being on Milton's lap. Every now and again, you’d lock eyes with Crybaby in the mirror as he made conversation and a small smile would make its way to your face.

- He’d been telling you about the performance he was going to give that night just as he pulled up in front of your house. Right before your mother called you in, you’d leaned down to look through the window, telling him that you’d like to hear him sing sometime before thanking him for the ride and running inside.

- Boy, you should have seen how flustered you had him.

- The two of you have your first date later that day. You said you wanted to see him sing, didn’t you? Well, he rode his way right up to your house and knocked on your door, asking your mother if you were home.

- You peeked out from behind her and smiled at him before he explained that he wanted to take you out. With a little urging, you convinced her to let you go and soon enough you were hopping on his bike and gathering with the drapes to see him perform.

- The two of you share your first kiss that same night. He’d just finished performing and the two of you were stood a little ways from the party by his brand new bike. He’d led you over there and as you were talking and walking, he’d turned for a moment and pressed his lips to yours.

- He paused to see your reaction and when you didn’t react negatively, he gave you a little smirk and kissed you longer. After that, he may or may not have taken you to “makeout point”.

- And thus, you became the king’s queen.

- Crybaby can’t keep his hands off of you; he’s extremely affectionate and touchy with you no matter where you are.

- He’ll usually have one arm around Peppers shoulder and another around your waist/shoulder.

- Him pinching your cheeks, usually after you do or say something that he thinks is cute. Other times, he’ll just do it after you catch him watching you with this fond look on his face.

- Cheek kisses.

- Hard kisses.

- Making out and French kisses. Never done it before? That’s obviously not a problem.

- Being dipped into kisses.

- Him laying his head in your lap or resting his chin on your shoulder; depending on where you are and your stance on getting hair grease on your clothes.

- He usually won’t initiate cuddling himself but he’ll certainly let you snuggle into him and then slowly cuddle back himself. He sort of just doesn’t know how to express that he just wants to hold you so he lets you do it when you want it. 

- Orphans have special needs. No matter how much he’ll try to not admit it or how much he doesn’t think that he is, Crybaby is definitely touch starved. He just really needs your affection sometimes so please just be nice to this borderline traumatized boy. 

- He calls you a lot of pet names so I’ll just list a few: baby, sugar, little thing, queenie, kitten, honey, and angel, amongst others.

- Compliments. He thinks you’re the greatest and nothing can change his mind.

- Being sung to. Sometimes, he’ll just break out into song; usually love songs and usually with him bringing you into a little dance with him whenever you sort of give a giggle in response.

- Winking, teasing, and flirting. He’s damn good at making you flustered but you can make him just as flustered, just through different means.

- It’s surprisingly easy for you to turn him on; you do it without even meaning to, but at the same time, he still just thinks you’re the sweetest.

- Air kisses; you all know what I’m talking about. Some of the time he does it affectionately, other times he’ll do it sarcastically; all depends on the situation.

- Getting close to his sister and family; you’re always invited to come visit. Ramona probably embarrasses him by talking about what cute grandchildren the two of you would make. 

- His friends teasing the two of you. 

- Leaning against his car with him and his gang.

- Bridal carrying and getting thrown over his shoulder. He likes the little squeals and giggles that you make when he does it unexpectedly.

- Puppy dog eyes. Wade can convince you to do just about anything and it’s adorably frustrating.

- Having him occasionally check in and make sure you’re okay with things. You can always let him know that you don’t like something and he’ll stop it and/or bring you someplace else.

- Having to put up with Lenora. She’s constantly trying to cause problems between the two of you though her plots rarely ever manage to actually do anything.

- He always tries his best to impress you. His singing, his bike, his personality, his stories, whatever he thinks will interest you, he’ll use.

- I’m not gonna lie, he probably gets your name tattooed on him in one of those stereotypical red hearts.

- Wearing his jacket and/or getting your own shiny leather number.

- He loves being able to show you off and let everyone know that you’re together. He’s very proud of you so expect him to make your relationship obvious to everyone.

- Going to turkey point. Everyone there loves you, even if they don’t outwardly act like it all the time.

- Oftentimes, he’ll just show up at your house or wherever you are unannounced, just to see if you’re not busy and would like to come do something with him. He just likes seeing you, alright?

- Motorcycle rides. The two of you make quite an entrance when you’re arriving at places.

- Laying out under the stars together, though you’re probably more occupied with each other than looking at them.

- Drive-in movies.

- Sneaking out to see him, especially if your parents don't approve of him. 

- Washing his car and bike with him. The two of you usually end up having water fight; he’ll occasionally grab you and squeeze you against him before giving you a kiss while you both sit there slightly soaked. 

- Standing up for him. He’s all smiles whenever he listens to you tell someone off for talking bad about him.

- It doesn’t matter what it is, any punishment that you may have to receive, he’ll try and take it for you; even if why you’re being punished has nothing to do with him. He just can’t stand the thought of you having to suffer.

- He’s surprisingly well mannered and chivalrous for a drape. It may not be entirely authentic but he can certainly leave a good impression when he has to, like when he’s meeting your parents for instance.

- Even though he’s sort of a delinquent, Crybaby is still really sweet; and handsome, which is why your mother probably just can’t help but like him. He’s rough around the edges and wears ridiculous clothes but he’s nice. Your dad on the other hand....

- Since there’s always at least one girl trying to make it with him, he always reassures you that he doesn’t want anyone but you; and that’s the honest truth. Whenever he shoo’s someone off, he’ll turn to you and make sure you didn’t take their flirting too personal.

- Crybaby gets extremely jealous; especially when it comes to certain people like ex boyfriends or people who are obviously interested in you. He’ll always demand that you leave with him immediately; it’s the way he makes sure that you’ve chosen him and are sticking to your decision.

- He’s incredibly protective of you so expect him to jump to your defense and possibly; most likely, fight people over/for you.

- The two of you don’t really fight all too often; mainly because you understand him enough to know that it usually isn’t you that he’s actually upset with. When you do fight, he’ll usually have a bit of an outburst before calming down and trying his best to explain what’s got him so worked up.

- It’s easy to forgive him; especially when his sister tells you how he’s been moping around all day. He’ll approach you a bit hesitantly and ask if you can talk before telling you that he’s sorry and; usually, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek or forehead.

- Wade certainly isn’t scared of telling you he loves you; especially through song, so you’ll always know that he does.

- Even though it’s no secret that he adores you, he always gets sorta shy after he absentmindedly says things like “when we get married” or “when I have kids”.