#and like. what do you do when your brother appoints his awful brother as your secondary guardian and that guy starts trying to fulfill that.

[arohuacheng]

k sorry i’m legitimately so insane about pei ming and shi qingxuan though. pei ming as someone who’s not just a womanizer but someone responsible and dear enough to shi wudu for That Man to essentially appoint him as qingxuan’s guardian should anything happen to him… for pei ming to take that responsibility on whole-heartedly, trying to protect shi qingxuan and keep them out of trouble and lead them on the right path even from the very beginning of the story… he’s trying to keep her out of the whole mess with pei su he’s trying to make sure that she does what she needs to do to survive in heaven (she has never learned that one needs to be cruel and unjust to advance because her brother has done all the unjust cruelty for her) he’s trying to make sure that he fulfills that trust that was placed in him and that’s all before there’s even a hint of anything that would incapacitate shi wudu. and sqx sees this and she must know at least some of it but she hates him. just doesn’t like his personality. i am out of my fucking miiiind

[mochinomnoms]

say you can't sleep, baby, I know

NSFW!Trey x Reader

Synopsis

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You're trying to rile him up, right? He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. Trey used to pride himself on his levelheadedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece. “Happy Birthday Trey~”

[wc} - 5,258

[cw/tags] - afab!gn!reader (im sorry folks it's all i know how to write still), NRC is a university in this, domesticity kink, birthday sex, breeding kink (sue me), oral (giving & receiving), trey can be a little mean as a treat

[notes] - i apologize for the person i've become after seeing trey's new b-day card. it does things to me and this is 100% self-indulgent for me. also, tried to use very neutral descriptors for reader so tell me how that went and if it reads well! lastly, the outfit the reader wears is based on sabrina carpenter's outfits from her short n' sweet tour, specifically the baby doll one!

Written while listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter, I recommend listening to it while reading :)

Let’s consider exactly the type of person Trey is.

Ever since he’s started school at NRC, he’s always taken a bit of a parental role in Heartslabyul, even before he became vice housewarden. Even Cater would joke about it when they first became friends:

“You’re, like, a total big bro! O-M-G, no! You’re like a dad friend! I’m totes willing to bet that the incoming freshmen are gonna slip up! Call you Dad or something!”

Evidently, when Riddle came into the picture and Trey was appointed his vice, Cater was proven right. He didn’t mind it too much, despite what others might think. 

He liked the familiarity of it, being the oldest at home, it translated well into his position at Heartslabyul, and it came with the added bonus of being able to minimize any chaos that arose. 

That was his main goal, especially with Riddle’s temper during his freshman and at the beginning of his sophomore year. Honestly, he had phenomenal conflict resolution skills, and he just wanted to make his life as easy as possible. 

Everyone at this school liked to make that difficult, though, especially the freshmen of this year.

“Oh fu—I mean sh—dam—fuc—shi—FIDDLESTICKS!”

“Dude, just say fuck, why you gotta say the corniest shit—OW—Treyyy! Deuce hit me!”

Deuce had a guilty look on his face as Trey looked up from his notebook to raise a brow at the two.

“W-well, Ace cussed, so he has to put money in the swear jar!”

“Aw what! Come on Trey!” Ace whined, shoving Deuce’s face to the side as the latter grunted and started pulling at his cheeks and arm. “Riddle’s not here, he’ll never know, so I don’t gotta! Don’t make me!”

Trey simply smirked and gestured to the jar on the fireplace mantle, helpfully available to everyone in the lounge. 

“You know the rules, bud, two thaurmarks for the f-bomb and a .50 cent for the other.”

Ace tossed his head back and groaned, begrudgingly dragging himself over to the jar as he dug around his pocket for change.

“Don’t be rude to your father, Ace.” A few giggles and snorts vibrated amongst the small group studying in the lounge as you wagged a finger at Ace, Grim squinting angrily at the book in your lap. 

Your lips quivered as you hid a laugh, jokingly chastising the ginger. 

“No need to be a brat.”

Trey had to withhold a snort at that comment, rich coming from you. He knew better than anyone that you could be as much of a brat as you were another parental figure.

“Oh ha-ha, very funny, Prefect. What, does that make you, Mom or Dad 2?” Ace stuck his tongue out at you as you grinned and focused back on Grim. 

“Okay Grimmy, so remember, what alchemy recipes need mandrake root?”

Watching from the corner of his eye, Trey watched fondly as you murmured soft words to Grim. It reminded him of his Mom talking to his siblings after a nightmare, or of his Dad after one of them would get hurt in the kitchen. 

Soft, soothing, parental. You’d make an excellent parent one day. 

Trey felt himself get warm at the thought, adjusting himself in his seat and looking back at his musicology notes. He couldn’t sing very well, but he can memorize notes, and that’s what the upcoming exam was focused on. 

That’s what he needed to focus on, not the way you cradled Grim against you like a parent with their child. Focus on his alchemy flashcards, and not the way you cleaned up the mess on the table so you could bring everyone a tray of snacks he’d prepared earlier that day. Focus on the history textbook in front of him, and not the way you cleaned up the lounge as it got later and later.

It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair how well you fell into the role. Cleaning and humming, one of his spare aprons on you as you wiped down the tables of crumbs and stacked a pile of dishes. It was unfair how sweetly you murmured to the few remaining students, and told them to go to bed and rest up. 

They obliged, probably half asleep at this rate, since it was an hour until midnight. Ace and Deuce had retired a while ago, the latter leaning on the former as they haphazardly stumbled to their room. 

Riddle had dropped by after his housewarden meeting, satisfied by the study group, but ultimately stuck to his very strict evening routine. 

Now it was just you two. Even Grim had been tugged along with Ace and Deuce earlier, not unlike a rag doll slung over their shoulders. 

“Trey? Honey, when are you going to sleep? It’s almost midnight.” His eyes fluttered tiredly as he felt your hands slide over his shoulders and a kiss pressed against his temple.

He felt warm again, heat pooling in his belly. You were so unfair. 

“You should go to bed soon, come on, I’ll take care of you.”

He can think of a few ways you could ‘take care’ of him. 

“It’s fine, why don’t you get Grim and head back to Ramshackle? Curfew is in 30 minutes, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing into his ear, making a tingle go down his spine.

“Okay, but please go to bed soon? I left you a little birthday surprise in your bedroom~”

Trey perked up at that, eyeing your mischievous grin as you waved your fingers goodbye, going down the hallway to the dorms to grab Grim.

To be honest, he’d forgotten that his birthday was tomorrow, he’d been so focused on his midterms that it just slipped his mind. Well, he can’t say he’s not excited to see what you got him, especially since you’d been not too subtly probing him for preferences.

He groaned, running his hands over his face and sighing, heavy and exhausted.

“Ugh, just a bit more and I’ll retire for the night.” Trey reassured himself, eyes straining as he looked between the books in front of him. 

The words on the papers blurred after a bit, the sound of the grandclock lulling him further into sleep, his head nodding off until a ping from his phone started him awake.

It was Cater, his Magicam user popping up on his screen. 

cay-cay_diamond: hbd trey!! 🥳🎉🎉🎉grats on being an old man now!

Blinking at the clock, Trey realized that it was now a few minutes past midnight, so it was technically his birthday. He’s lucky that Riddle followed his own sleep schedule so rigorously, or else he’d be getting a scolding for breaking curfew.

luckyclover: Old? I’m only like 4 months older than you cay-cay_diamond: yeah. old. cay-cay_diamond: anyways! enjoy the gift in ur room!!! i helped (name) pick out the wrapping 😘😘😘

Trey hummed, a small smile on his face as he imagined the two of you bickering over wrapping paper and messily wrapping up a box with a bow. You did seem very excited for him to find it earlier, maybe you two picked something out together. 

He was curious on what exactly you got him and why you hadn’t waited to give it to him at his actual birthday party. And why did you need Cater to help you…you’d always shoo him away when he’d tried helping you with gifts for other’s birthdays. 

Stacking his books into his left hand and walking towards the junior dorm rooms, Trey looked at his phone as it pinged again. 

cay-cay_diamond: on that topic thooo…u should rly go 2 ur room and get ur present! the poor thing! they’ve been w8ing very patiently 4 u~ luckyclover: Waiting? (Name)??? cay-cay_diamond: 🤭🤫😉

Trey sighed, shaking his head and tucking his phone away and digging out his room keys. It was times like these, deep into the night, when he was thankful for having his own room. He felt a bit bad now, you probably fell asleep in his bed waiting for him. 

Though, the thought of you clutching one of his pillows, maybe in one of his sweaters to keep warm, made him smile. Then he could come in, gently take your clothes and shoes off to get you more comfortable, and dress down himself to slip in right behind you.

As he finally managed to get to his room, he heard shuffling as he turned the keys. Trey smirked, noticing that only his rose lamp remained on, and all the drapes to his canopy were now closed. 

He could just barely make out the shadow of you moving behind them, hearing you gasp and the bed squeak, making him let out a soft laugh under his breath.

“You’re breaking curfew, you should be asleep you know? You're such a troublemaker sometimes.” Trey teased you as placed his books on his desk, tossing his hat onto its stand and slipping his shoes off to throw them into his wardrobe and grab his slippers. 

He yawned, the late night really starting to sink into his body as he started undressing, his jacket and vest getting hung back up in the closet as he worked on his sash and unbuttoning his pants.  

“Only like a third of the time!” You whined, the bed softly squeaking as you followed his movements behind the canopy. “Besides, I really wanted to give you your present. Don’t you want to unwrap me?”

Trey paused at the purr in your voice, narrowing his gaze as he saw your hand ever so slightly move the curtain at the end of the bed to peek at him. You were still mostly shrouded in darkness, but there was a very soft glow coming from inside the canopy, so he could just barely make out your mischievous smile.

Though, you quickly frowned, eyeing him up and down out of concern. 

“Not if you’re too tired though, you have bags under your eyes, Trey. Do you just wanna go to sleep?”

Giving you a weary smile, Trey finally tossed his sash to the side and reached for the curtains, pushing them to the side to finally take a look at your “mysterious” present. 

“In a bit, let me see what you got me…”

Trey’s breath hitched, he suddenly felt very wide awake as his eyes roamed up and down your body. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see that you set up string lights along the top of the canopy for ambiance, making you look like you were almost glowing. Though it wasn’t that that made him lose his voice. 

You were sitting on the edge of his bed with your legs curled underneath you, dressed in the most darling sage-green, sheer baby doll dress. The dress's puffy sleeves and hem were lacy, matching the lace on the stockings. 

Holy shit you were wearing stockings.

“Ha, I wanted to surprise you, I thought you could use a stress reliever.”

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

“I should’ve realized that you’d be tired from studying for midterms, sorry.”

You're trying to rile him up, right?

“But, still, do you like it? I wrapped myself up just for you~”

He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. To behave.

“In any case,” You shifted onto your knees, the dress splitting in the middle, the only thing keeping it together being a small bow at the base of your neck, revealing the lack of undergarments, just your bare skin underneath. “Even if you’re too tired and just want to sleep, I just wanted to say…”

Trey leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, batting your eyelashes and ghosting your lips over his with a teasing smile. Your hands caressed the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing soothing circles, making him melt. 

“Happy Birthday Trey~”

It’s now that he noticed that you even added a gloss to your lips, and he could smell the warm perfume on your neck as you pressed your lips to his, tongue swiping over his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Obliging, Trey sighed into the kiss and tangled his tongue with yours, his hands slipping underneath the baby doll and squeezing at your waist.

He really should go to sleep. He has to wake up early for the party. He has to dress in his birthday robes. He has to make sure that the others don’t burn down the kitchen or damage his expensive bakeware as they made his cake. 

But the way your skin felt under his gloved hands, skin meeting skin, lace, skin, and lace again.

How could he be expected to sleep now?

Trey used to pride himself on his level headedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece.

Humming in delight against your mouth, Trey slid his hands down, as you curled into his body in response, and squeezed at the fat of your thighs before picking you up. 

A yelp left your mouth as he picked you up and tossed you up the bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing it behind him as he crawled on top of you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he saw the way the dress fell open to expose your body, your chest moving up and down as you watched him with a giddy smile. 

“Oh! I guess you’re not that tired—ah!”

You gasped as Trey grabbed your calves, tugging you up to place the back of your knees on his shoulders. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your right thigh, smirking against the lace. 

“I was tired. I should be asleep,” Trey murmured against your stocking laced skin, pressing kisses as he went farther and farther down. “Resting—kiss—Up—kiss—but no.”

He gave you a half-hearted glare, which you responded with a smile and lacing your hands through his hair as he pressed another kiss to the bend where your thigh met your sex. 

“You broke curfew, you wanted to keep me up with your little ‘present’, you know I’d get in trouble for hiding you out in my room.”

Trey gave you a bite on your thigh, groaning as he felt your hands tighten in his hair, moving back to press a soothing kiss to the mark he left.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble? Throw me in the doghouse?”  “Cause I’ll make sure you come right with me, after a little taste of my birthday treat.”

The same time he ran his tongue up your sex, Trey could feel you shiver and pull on his hair as he ate you feverishly, like a man starved from food or water for ages. 

“Mmm! Trey!” You threw your head back, bringing one hand up to slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, the walls here weren’t known to be sound-proof. 

He should probably care a bit more, especially when you let out a particularly high-pitched squeal as his tongue began fucking into your hole. 

“Trey! Oooh, Trey~” 

Bringing a finger to join his tongue, Trey smiled against your skin as you squeezed your thighs around his head, using his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to palm at his dick. 

“Trey—aaaah—wait, let me—mmph—Honey—” You let out a shuddering gasp, pulling his head up from your sex. Trey locked eyes with you, leaning into the hand you slid down to cup his cheek and caress his lower lips, wiping the slick and drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes? Honey?” Removing his hand from inside you to cover your own hand and kiss your palm, Trey smiled and hummed, “I like that, you know, reminds me of a husband coming home to his spouse.”

Pressing kisses up your body, soft and tingly, up your neck, and back to your lips where they belonged.

“Hmm, I really like the sound of that, (Name) Clover.” You murmured against his lips, smiling as you wrapped a leg around his waist to bring his dick closer to your sex, rubbing against him as you both sighed into each other’s mouths. 

“Is that what you want? You want me to be a cute little spouse? Dress up in a cute apron? Greet you when you come home from work?”

So focused on the softness of your lips and the wetness sliding against his dick, Trey didn’t even notice you twisting your body to turn him onto his back, the back of his head hitting the back of his pillows as you sat on top with a cheeky grin. 

“Hm? How would my husband want me to welcome him home? A hug? A kiss? Mm, what about…me?” Trey watched you with flushed cheeks as you kissed down his body, mimicking his earlier actions as you helped him tug off the rest of his clothes. 

“Oh, how nice it would be for you to come back to a warm, clean home with a spouse…” Looking up at him through your eyelashes and giving him a kitten lick to his tip. “...ready to give soft wet holes for you to fill~”

Giving him a vision into that sweet, sweet future, you swallowed his tip, down his shaft, and started sucking. 

“Haaah—”

Trey lolled his head back into his pillow, letting out a breathless moan as you bobbed your head up and down his length, your hand working the rest that didn’t fit into your mouth. 

“Fuuuuck. That does sound nice—mmh!” Reaching his hand down, you immediately took one of your hands to lace it with his, squeezing it as you hummed around his cock. 

“My lovely spouse—nnnngh—their pretty mouth—unnnh—soft holes—aaaah—all for me to come home to every day, what a dream~”

A particularly harsh suck made Trey arch his back and squeeze your hand harder, a giggle vibrating his dick as you pulled off. 

“Hehe, is this your way of proposing? Kinda dirty to do it with your dick on my mouth.” You giggled, pressing kisses and quick licks along his shaft. 

“That’s okay though, you and I both know that deep down, you’re a bit of a pervert. Right?”

Trey scoffed, tugging you up with a bemused smile. “Yeah? How can you tell? Thought I hid that pretty well.”

A soft laugh escaping you, you held both of his hands, bringing them up to press kisses on his knuckles, making the green-haired man sigh fondly. 

“The way you look at me sometimes, like you’re undressing me. It makes me feel all warm and tingly, especially when I piss you off.”

Both of you let out a breathless moan as your wetness rubbed against his hard dick, grinding against one another as the tip occasionally caught against your hole, making you shiver. 

“Is it bad that sometimes I wanna get you mad so you’ll fuck me real mean? Is it bad that I want you to use me? To fuck your stress out with me?”

A lump forming in his throat, Trey let go of your hands to pull at the string holding your flimsy baby doll together. Eyes half lidded, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, watching it pool at your elbows as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your grinding turned into vigorous humping against him, making you both gasp in pleasure. 

“Ooh, Trey, honey, baby, hubby~ Won’t you use me? Be a little mean? Pleeeease? Fuck me, fill me up like I know you want! Pleeeeease Trey? Pretty, pretty please?”

Lips smashed against yours as Trey bolted up, groaning into your mouth as he grabbed your hips in an almost painful grip. 

He picked you up once again, throwing you on all fours, covers tangling against your knees and hands, as he ripped your dress off and tossed it. 

Trey’s left hand placed itself on your hip, while his right pushed down on your back, following up your spine to the base of your neck where he pushed you down to shove your face into the sheets, forcing you into a doggy pose.

“So you do like getting me in trouble, little brat. Fine, I’ll be mean.” 

Trey lined his dick against your throbbing hole, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your ear and moving the hand on your neck to wove with your right, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“Squeeze three times if you need me to stop, otherwise, I’m going to fuck that brain right out of your pretty little head, since you don’t seem to be wanting to use it.”

In one, swift move, Trey slammed his hips to your ass, sinking nearly half his length into your warm, waiting hole. 

“FUCK! YES—MMMPH” Burying your face into the sheets to muffle your cries, Trey did the same into your shoulder, shivering at your tightness around him. 

Setting a rhythm, hips smacking into your ass, Trey worked the rest of his cock into you until he could hear the smack of your ass against his hips, the sound echoing with the creak of the bed.

Your tightness around him was heavenly, as was the sight of you sinking further into the bed and arching your ass to sloppily meet his thrusts. Straightening again, bending your arm back so that your hands could remain intertwined.

His left hand caressed your back and the fat of your behind, before bringing it down in a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp and squeeze his hand in a vice grip, though you also tightened around his cock. 

Rubbing a soothing circle against the reddening skin, slowed his thrusts, making you whine and push against him. 

“Haaah, that okay? Feel good?” Trey murmured, smiling at the frantic nod and wiggle against him. “Want me to keep going?”

“Mmmph... yessshh... mmmore, mmmore... pleeeashh, honey~” Your sounds were muffled as you bit into the blanket, getting higher and higher as he obliged, not one to deny you after all. 

Every other thrust was met with a slap to one cheek, then the other, the skin turning redder and redder with his handprints marking you. The harder he went, the more and more slack you went, until he was eventually just fucking you like his personal toy. 

Though, you did offer yourself as his present, didn’t you? So it was only fair that he got to use his present as he wished, and right now, he wanted to feel you cumming around him. 

Ceasing his smacks, making you whine, Trey instead melded his body against yours, the weight both overwhelming and comforting, as his left hand instead moved to your sex to rub you to completion. 

Trey watched as you gasped for breath, completely burying your head into the bed to muffled your screams as you came around him, trembling and squeezing him. 

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his shaft was becoming dangerously addicting, and he was very greedy for more of that. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close! You can give me another one, right?”

Slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you up, Trey adjusted you so that you sat on his dick, kissing the side of your neck for reassurance as he let go of your hand to quickly slide his arms under your knees. 

From all his years of tossing bags of flour and sugar, from kneading dough, from all the labor he’s done as a baker, picking you up was like child’s play. 

Folding your knees up to your chest so he could hold you, back flush to his chest, was nothing for him. Everything for you, though, your over sensitive hole squeezing down on him again.  

“FUCK! I caaame! Treytreytreytrey—” You dug a hand into his arm, tossing your head back and lolling your tongue out with a dumb, drooly smile on your lips. 

“A-almost there—nngh—just squeeze if I need to stop—I’m so close~”

Smashing his lips against yours for an open mouth, wet kiss, Trey pounded faster into you, determined to feel your walls pulsate again, this time as he filled your insides up like one of his pastries. 

Then, an awful, perverted thought filled his head, like a devil was whispering in his ear. 

Why doesn’t he fill them up with his kids? Don’t stop until his cum is drooling out of their hole, and go again to make up for the lost seed. He already wants them to be his spouse, why not add a few little ones to that picture?

Trey was losing any bit of restraint that he may have had as he was now determined to fullfill his fantasy. Even if you couldn’t do it, magic made anything here possible, and right now is good practice anyway.

“I’m—aaaahhh—I’m gonna come inside, okay? Fill you up, yeah?”

Digging your nails into his skin, you nodded against his mouth and whined. 

“Yessssss! Fill me up! Inside! Gimme a baby Trey! I wanna make you a daaaaddy~”

Squeezing your legs further against your chest, Trey pounded faster and faster, trembling as he reached close and closer to his peak. 

Warmth flooded his body, tingles, and he swears sparks, flying over his skin as he felt you clamp down on him for a third time. 

Your voice squealed higher and higher, any previous attempt to be quiet for naught as you practically screamed.

Trey shuddered as he finally came, cum flooding your warm insides as you went limp in his arms. 

Panting for air, both of you remained still for a minute, the bed feeling stuffy with the curtains still closed. After another minute, Trey pulled you up and off of him, shaky as his now limp dick left your warm, comfortable embrace.

Doing his best to gently place you on the bed, Trey let out a breathless laugh as you collapsed on the bed like a rag doll, blinking your eyes tiredly at the ceiling of the canopy. 

“Haah, sorry, I went too hard there, huh?”

You shook your head, giving him a tired smile and reaching a hand for him, which he took and brought up to kiss. 

“It was good, really, good. You liked your present?”

Snorting and nodding, Trey carefully scooped you up to move your head onto the pillows and gently roll off your garter stocking, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he did. 

“Yeah, I did. Come on, let me get you a shirt.”

You whined as he pulled away, exhaustion starting to steep into him as he tied back the curtains to the canopy to let the stuffiness out. Trey picked up the baby doll he’d tossed earlier, placing it into his wardrobe drawer as he dug out a shirt and sweatpants for himself and a shirt for you.

As he closed the drawer, he noticed your backpack hidden underneath it, digging in it to grab you some underwear. You had packed a pair of pajamas, apparently, but…he’d rather see you in his clothes. 

“Hmm, honey? Come to bed…” You whined, hands reaching out for him impatiently as he slipped on his clothes, crawling over to you and helping you slip your underwear and his shirt on. 

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Trey slowly blinked, eyelids heavy as he scoop you up to place you two under the covers, the soft mattress making him practically become one with the bed and you as you nestled into his chest. 

Your legs tangled with his as Trey wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. He could feel fatigue and sleep quickly taking over him as your voice vibrated against his chest, soft and sleepy. 

“Happy birthday honey, I—yawn—love…you…”

A different kind of warmth, soft and sweet, filled him as he squeezed you tighter against him, murmuring back. 

“I love you too…”

*Riiiing* *Riiiiiiiing* *Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

An irritating, loud noise filled Trey’s ears as he groaned, half-awake as he turned over to smack his hand on his phone, silencing the alarm. 

“Aah…Noisy…hhggh.” Trey groaned, rolling over, careful to not crush you under him to blindly reach for his glasses. 

“Glasses…glasses…ah..”

Plastic and glass finally under his palm, Trey slipped his glasses on his face, ultimately throwing himself back into bed next to you, who’d begun shifting awake.

“Mmm, honey?” 

Grunting in response, Trey threw an arm over his eyes, irritated at the sun seeping through the window into his eyes. 

“Early…”

You chuckled, a yawn escaping you as you decided to move closer and slip a hand under his shirt to rub at his chest, pressing kisses into his neck as well. 

“You’re so grumpy in the morning. Come on, you've got a big day ahead.”

“…Ugh, I do?”

Snorting at his response, Trey grunted as he felt you move, peaking under his arm to see you resting on your elbow. You had puffy, dark circles under your eyes from the little sleep you managed to get. 

“Birthdays are a pretty big deal, right?” Smiling at him, Trey squinted an eye and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in protest.

“Ugggh, yeah…”

Hearing you hum, Trey groaned in surprise as he felt you straddle his waist and caress his neck and cheeks, making him remove his arm to blink up at you. 

Your hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all sorts of places. The bags under your eyes more noticeable under the night. His shirt dwarfed you. You were a hot mess, all things considered. 

He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, with how cute you were last night, but he thinks you look most beautiful like this. Better than any frilly, skimpy, or tight outfit.

“Come on, Birthday Boy, want me to give you a little pick me up?”

Kissing him with a smile, Trey moaned into the lazy, sloppy morning kiss, tilting his head back as you pressed kissed down his neck, deciding to work on leaving a love bite at the nape of his neck.

Trey’s phone chimed, making him sigh as he reached for it, letting you continue your love bites and kisses, 

Squinting at the few messages, it seemed like a few of his friends and classmates were already sending him birthday wishes. Though, a message from Cater made him blot up, a sudden shock of alertness running down his spine. 

“Ah! Trey, what is it?”

cay-cay_diamond: morning!! happy bday 2 the bday boi again! thought i let u no tht u owe me a favor, had 2 cast a silencing spell on ur roum last nite. totes ruined my beauty sleep! cay-cay_diamond: also i know u got ur lil cutie 2 distract ya, but liek dont b l8 2 ur bday breakfast, grimmy might eat it!

“Shit, we were too loud, Cater had to cast a silencing spell on the room.”

You made an ‘oh’ shape with your mouth, giving Trey an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, but at least you enjoyed it, right?”

Trey smiled, more awake now, and nodded, sharing a sweet kiss with you. 

“Definitely. You might have to consider making your go-to gift for now on, it’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve ever gotten.”

He solidified that statement with one more, firm, assuring kiss with you, before having to leave your sweet dream into the real world. 

At least he could have one part of that dream with him at his side from now on: you. 

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[holylulusworld]

Jealousy a la Bucky

Summary: He’s not jealous.

Pairing: (Soft)Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: jealous Bucky, Bucky is smitten for the reader, Steve being a tease, fluff, flirting

He’s not jealous. Never. He’s not even looking your way when you talk to one of his business partners. Nope. He’s not squaring his jaw or balling his hands into fists. No, of course not.

What he does is sulk at the bar, a pout on his lips, and a grumpy expression on his face. He nips at his drink while following your every move.

“That her?” Steve finally asks. He watched his friend stare at you from afar for almost half an hour. Now he wants to tease him. “I guess she’s good at making new friends, huh? A pretty dame like her. All alone. Wearing a dress like that.”

“First and final warning,” Bucky points his index finger at his friend and brother-in-crime. “I saved your life more than once. But I will take it if you say one more thing about that woman.”

“Aw, it finally happened,” sipping at his drink Steve watches his friend frown deeply. You giggle at something Clint Barton, one of his confidants and notorious weapon dealers, said. “James Buchanan Barnes is in love.”

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky grunts. “If you say one more word, you’ll lose your tongue and more.” He angrily glares at Barton, swearing on his mother’s grave he’ll kill the man if he dares to touch you. “I’m not in love.” 

He’s not in love. Not at all. Of course, not. James Buchanan Barnes, a notorious mobster, and stone-cold weapon dealer doesn’t fall in love.

Then, why can’t he take his eyes off you, his sweet new assistant? The woman taking care of his life. “She brings me food and makes my appointments. Y/N is only my assistant. Stop acting like I lost my dead heart to that beautiful, caring, and sweet girl.”

“You are so in love with her,” Steve grins and raises his glass. “To James Buchanan Barnes, the most wanted bachelor who finally got tamed. I hope you know I want to be your best man at your wedding.”

Bucky glares at Steve. He wants to say something, or (and) punch his friend’s face when someone calls his name. Your sweet voice brings him out of his rage and back to reality. 

“Mr. Barnes, you should eat something,” you clear your throat to get your boss’s attention. “Sir, I got you a plate filled with all the things you like.”

“All the things I like?” He drops his eyes to the plate you hold. “You mean all the things you like, doll.”

You giggle at the pet name. Bucky Barnes is a dangerous man, and you should be afraid to be even close to him. Oddly, you feel the safest around your boss. He’s a big teddy bear when it comes to you.

“Fine, I got you the same things I like so we can share.”

“You want to share the food with Bucky?” Steve swallows thickly when his friend snaps his head toward him. “He’s a food thief. You should keep a close eye on that food.”

“I like sharing,” you softly say. “Mr. Barnes often forgets to eat. I made it my mission to take care of him and his well-being.”

Steve chokes on his drink at the look Bucky gives you. Puppy dog eyes. James Buchanan Barnes looks at you like you are a miracle to him. 

“Uh-cool,” the blonde says. “I’ll grab some food too. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Same,” you are busy offering food to your boss and barely look at Steve. “Now, what do you want to taste first?”

‘Your lips’, Bucky thinks to himself but doesn’t say it out loud. “What do you recommend?”

“We could start with the salmon and then, you should try the green asparagus. It’s delicious and the best I ever ate. OH, and they have the best desserts, Bucky.” You gasp as you just called your boss by his name. “I’m sorry, Sir…I didn’t…I…”

“My name sounds like a melody on your tongue,” Bucky grabs the salmon to wolf it down. You just stare at him, and let his words sink in. 

“That was…” you snort. “Oh my god! So funny. I mean…sorry…but…that was the lamest pick-up line ever,” you step closer to whisper in his ear. “You know, if you like me, you can just ask me out.”

“It was poetic and—” He tries to argue until he realizes you kinda asked him out. “Do you want to go on a date with me, doll?”

“Phew, finally,” you smirk. “I wouldn’t have made it through the night if I talked to Mr. Barton for much longer. He wanted me to have a look at his bow. I still don’t know what he meant.”

“His bow?” Bucky hiccups. “That bastard wanted to show you his bow?”

“Hmm…I told him that you already offered to show me your gun.”

“Right now?” He nervously shifts on his feet, and hopefully looks at you.

“No,” you pat his chest and smile. “I don’t look at a man’s gun before the second date…or the third.”

“I bet you’ll make an exception for me,” he takes the plate out of your hands and throws it over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll order room service for us.”

“I’m keeping you up on that promise, Sir…”

You will have room service, in Paris only a few hours later…

Tags in reblog.

[6okuto]

bf headcanons for tsukki pls?

TSUKISHIMA RELATIONSHIP HCS

gn!reader | happy birthday tsukki...🫶🫶

king of saying "no" when you ask for a favour while doing it. you'll ask him to pass your glass of water and he'll say no but, without even looking, slide it to you

(risky) umbrella holder. like he Will hold it for the both of you, but he'll move away from and taunt you if you try to annoy him sometimes

^ likes it when you help dry his hair once you both get inside but he doesn't say that. though he doesn't really have to when he's falling asleep while you comb your hands through his hair

remembers if you have meds to take, an appointment coming up, etc. usually won't just bring it up to check with you, but will mention it while planning for things or if he notices you feel off

"guys will take the ugliest photos of you and think they're amazing" no he definitely knows which ones are objectively just like, not good. to be fair he Does find some of them pretty cute Despite how blurry/bad you might look

flips between an awful and good photo of you for your contact photo. you think it's Just the awful one until you check his phone one day and find out he does in fact have good photos of you which is crazy i know!

the guy who keeps getting all the upgrades and tools while gaming except he doesn't share with people. one of his only exceptions is you (sometimes you do have to threaten him though /lh)

also helps You study if no one else. kei is actually pretty good at figuring out the study methods best for you, and manages to quiz you on things you might have overlooked

wordlessly walks up behind you and waits for you to notice. will stand there in silence for like 10 seconds then makes fun of you for not realizing or laughs when you get scared

kei isn't really one to initiate pda, but if he sees his teammates (jealously) looking at you guys, he might put his arm around your shoulder, or talk about date plans just to be annoying. lol.

goes red if you come to watch his game and cheer, but uses it as motivation. < the rest of the team Will keep teasing him and Also using it to motivate him like "better look extra cool today, huh?" "you better not mess up today, tsukishima!"

! teaming up with everyone to tease him. give him a taste of his own medicine fr. and if he tries to throw anything back one of them can just go "tsukishima, is that how you treat your partner?" As if he's said something any more insulting than usual

of course he makes height jokes if you're shorter and not super bothered by them. Of course. at the very least, you can make it his responsibility to look above crowds, reach things for the both of you, etc in return

assumes he'd be the bigger spoon and is surprised if you pat the bed for him to be hugged instead. he finds it a little awkward, but to be fair he's awkward around all physical affection/cuddling in the first place. it takes time, but kei comes to appreciate being taken care of/held, though if anyone were to find out he'd want to poof out of existence for a bit

i think one cute trend that would really work on him is the one where you pretend your sweater smells weird, and when they bend down to smell too, you kiss their forehead. kei is about to tease you and ask if you made sure to throw it into the laundry, and immediately freezes when he feels your lips on his skin. he sits up and looks away and says you're annoying or whatever, but his cheeks are so so red

if you're one to wear one of his sweaters, or maybe just hold it while you're at his house, he either teases you for being needy or goes "is that my sweater?" and then does nothing about it. sometimes he won't even say anything. if you pay attention he'll be wearing whatever it was the next time you see him, and makes it a habit to leave something on his bed for you to grab

if kei sees you talking to his brother he Will try to drag you away or try (fail) to stare discretely. who knows what stories akiteru will tell you, or what you're both scheming.

anytime akiteru asks him about his relationship or how you're doing and does the whole older brother "you're growing up so fast" spiel, he wishes he could melt into a puddle

big quality time fan. if you're one to not be comfortable with physical affection, kei totally understands and is great with that. there's a lot of days where you guys just hang out in one of your rooms, go out to eat or see a performance, etc and as long as you guys are enjoying yourselves, that's all you need

....bad at flirting. like flirting that isn't you guys teasing/insulting each other back and forth. one time the guys were trying to "help him with his game" while texting you and he physically struggled to type their suggestions so he just turned off his phone and said he should block all of them. the most you'll usually get from him is energy of like, "you want me so bad it makes you look stupid" LOL

he tells you that celebrating his birthday isn't a big deal, and that you really really do not,, should not,, make it one. but if you're dating, it means you know him well enough to realize he Does appreciate gifts, and people caring about him.

he gets embarrassed and awkward when people sing happy birthday but who doesn't really. he stares at the cake you custom ordered or made yourself, and tries to ignore how loud everyone is singing. his eyes widen when you explain how much thought you put into your gift(s), and though he struggles with words, he thanks you and takes care to put it somewhere safe until he can appreciate it alone.

[ranhaitanisgf]

Hello Hana💖 Can i request Tenjiku Ran + dating app? lol. Something like:he gave it a try just bc rindou forced him to do it, he had no interest in dates/romance until he matches with y/n (y/n also felt the same way?) then they have a date and became good friends? and after a lot of time spent together & enjoying each other's company ,they realize they are in love? idk, do you magic lol change everything if you want. (i trust your talent and i love that man so much that i'll be happy anyway) Maybe it's an awful idea 🌚 but i'm not longer a teenager //.u. i go to college and i have no other way to delulu how can i met him if it's not through those 💩 apps hehe.

Thank you sweetie, have a wonderful day🥺💖

i guess i can try it out...?

synopsis: rindou signed ran up for a dating app...how is this date going to go?

☆ a/n ˎˊ˗ i i i... STRUGGLED WITH THIS .... this was such a cute req and idea omg but i have never used a dating app 😭 i do not know if i did this right but ! i hope you all still enjoy !! and thank you so much anon for requesting this !! xoxoxo

☆ characters ˎˊ˗ ran haitani x g/n!reader

☆ wc ˎˊ˗ 1.8k+

masterlist 

❥ ran has never really found much interest in dating apps; why would he be interested in meeting someone in a fake way? maybe it’s the little romantic in him, but he doesn’t want to try to actually meet someone he wants to spend time with in a way that feels ‘fake’ to him. he wants to be able to meet someone he likes in an organic way, though he himself isn’t quite sure where this notion comes from, (maybe the romance movies his mom used to watch?). 

“here.”  “what’s all this?”  “you should find someone, aniki.” “oho? where’s this coming from all of a-” “you’re home too much.” 

❥ ran is genuinely hurt by this. 

❥ begrudgingly, he creates a loose profile, not putting a whole lot of effort into it. he doesn’t really see the point in all of this, so his profile consists of a single blurry picture of him with his brother, (not specifying which one he is) and his bio merely states his name, age, and that he likes to sleep. 

❥ surprisingly, he gets matches despite having such a bland and blank profile, but he doesn’t even respond to any of the messages asking to meet up or asking for more information about him. he leaves them all on read, feeling wholly uninterested in talking to any of the people who were trying to get to know him. 

❥ and so, rindou decides to take the matter into his own hands. he’s able to get a hold of ran’s phone rather easily, (the man does not wake up, so he was still snoring away while rindou entered his room) and proceeded to fix up his profile to a more suitable one, even going so far as to respond to at least one of the people who he thought might be a good match for his brother. 

❥ one can probably imagine ran’s surprise when he wakes up in the morning and sees his formal wear set out on his dresser, and you could most definitely imagine his surprise when he sees a ‘okay, sounds good! see you then :)’ message from the dating app on his phone. 

❥ he strides into the kitchen, his phone in hand as he pointedly looks at rindou, who is sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee while watching something on tv. there were no words said between the two of them for a few moments, rindou merely looking up at ran with a look that said ‘you got a problem?’. 

“rindou.” “aniki.” “dear brother…what is this?”  “you have a date today at 7.”  “i don’t think so.” “you’re going.” “no, i’m not. end of discussion.”

❥ it was not the end of the discussion. 

❥ ran ended up agreeing, but it was only because rindou promised to pay for his hair appointments for the next six months, (it was a pretty good deal; the salon he goes to is very expensive). he wasn’t too thrilled about this since he thought of it as more of a waste of time, but he decided to put on his nice clothes anyway, spraying some of his good cologne on his wrists and neck. he even left his hair out of its usual plaits, testing out a few different hairstyles before deciding to just leave it down. 

❥ before he left, he’d taken a glance at the profile of the person he was supposed to meet. despite the fact that he was annoyed about this date rindou had set up, he has to admit that his brother does know his tastes pretty well, so he starts to feel just the tiniest bit of amusement and curiosity, (maybe he should get flowers? nah, he’ll just play it casual and see where it goes). 

❥ when ran arrived, he wasn’t surprised to see it was a typical restaurant/bar type of place, though he was a bit amused at the fact that it was located still in roppongi, (he thinks it would be funny if someone came up to him in the middle of the date because they recognized him). 

˗ˏˋ𖤐ˎˊ˗

“hey, are you ran?” 

“hm?” ran looked up from his place at the bar, seeing a somewhat familiar face looking back at him. he leans a bit closer, his eyes squinting to get a clearer picture…ah, the person he’s supposed to be meeting. 

cute. 

he stood up from his spot at the bar, pasting a charismatic smile on his face as he held his hand out. “correct. you must be (y/n), right?” 

“yes! it’s nice to meet you!” you beamed, giving your hand for a handshake. ran was a bit amused when he noticed your rather firm grip while shaking hands, but it only made him just a bit more curious about you. 

the two of you went to sit down at your table, ran politely pulling your chair out for you, (he had been debating on whether or not to play the gentleman card, but he decided to go with it). after he sat himself down, he decided to wait for you to speak first, wondering if you were going to pique his interest. 

a few moments of silence passed by as he watched your eyes flicking around the place, examining everything before coming back to him. when the two of you made eye contact, your lips ghosted a polite smile, your fingers moving to fidget with a piece of your hair. 

“just to be clear, i’m not really into this whole…dating app thing. i think it’s kind of stupid, but my friends told me to go on at least one date, so i’m here. i’m sorry, i just…” you paused for a moment, pursing your lips. “...i didn’t want to give you the wrong idea. i hope we can still have a good time though.” 

consider his interest piqued. 

“well, if we’re clearing things up, then i’ll admit that these sorts of things are not something i enjoy. my brother is the one who messaged you, and i’m here because he said he would pay for my hair appointments if i came.” ran was curious as to how you would react at his words; would you make a scene by yelling at him and then leave? would you just storm out? maybe you would even cuss him out! 

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to let out a big sigh, seemingly of relief, as you laughed a bit, your posture seeming more relaxed and open. 

“hah! that’s so funny actually!” you mused. “i guess we’re the perfect match then, huh?” 

“seems like it.” ran answered, an amused smirk on his face. “maybe the whole matching thing on dating apps do work after all.” 

“right? this seems like too much of a coincidence to be true!” after a moment, you suddenly seemed to get an idea, leaning forward a bit with a grin. “how about we just hang out for tonight as potential friends? none of that weird polite romantic bullshit that you see in first dates. just two people getting to know each other, completely platonically.” ran let out a laugh at your suggestion, his lips upturned in a casual smile. 

“sure, why not?” 

˗ˏˋ𖤐ˎˊ˗

❥ for the rest of the night, the two of you had a pleasant time chatting about various topics, talking about the latest fashion and hair trends to how you secretly think that pigeons are spying on the people of the world, (ran wholeheartedly believes in your theory; you made a very good argument). he hadn’t been expecting something like this, but when the night ended, he realized that he actually felt a bit sad at the fact that the two of you were going to be parting ways.

❥ this fact made him quite amused, and so, he suggested that the two of you hang out again. as friends, he says, explaining that he actually enjoyed your company and chatting with you, (he felt a little bit more than that, but he could save that for another time). 

❥ when he comes home and rindou asks how everything went, he just laughs and says ‘it was interesting’ then turns in for the night, leaving rindou wondering what the hell happened, and does interesting mean good or bad??

❥ the next time he sees you is by coincidence while he’s out grocery shopping for the week. he happens to run into you in the ice cream aisle, though you see him before he sees you; he’s quite focused on which flavor of ice cream to buy. 

“ran?”  “hm? oh, (y/n). funny seeing you here.” “yeah, no kidding! which flavor are you eyeing?”

❥ the two of you decide to have an impromptu hangout after that, both of you going to your respective apartments to drop off your groceries before meeting at a nearby cafe. it wasn’t anything crazy but there was a comfortable vibe, casual conversation and playful jokes being exchanged between the two of you as you sipped on your drinks. 

❥ ran hadn’t expected to have enjoyed talking with you so much, but before he knew it, the sky outside had changed from blue to orange, the sun setting in the distance. now that he had hung out with you for a second time, he knew that he was definitely interested in you, your joking and fun personality being something that he genuinely enjoyed, (he thought that you were also pretty cute, but that was another thing). 

“hey, let me take you home.”  “haha, i thought we said we were just going to be friends?”  “i can’t take my friends home to make sure they’re safe?”  “hmm…well, if you insist! who would’ve known you were such a gentleman~” 

❥ there wasn’t anything romantic about it, but there was a bit of a palpable tension between the two of you as he walked you home; the way your hands were just barely brushing against each other, the way you two were walking much closer to each other than friends would normally do, the stolen looks in the silent moments…ran knew you were feeling it too, but neither of you said anything. 

❥ there were no words spoke about it when the two of you arrived at your apartment, both of you just saying your goodbyes and leaving. ran is for the most part a patient man, so there’s a part of him that wants to keep quiet and see where everything goes. on the other hand, he wants to bring it up to you and maybe see where it takes the two of you. 

ranh_18: you looked good today. are you free on saturday? let me take you out for real this time.

❥ ran supposes he can be impatient every once in a while.

[covenha]

Halloween Yunho drabble

Prompt: “You know, I did try to warn you. But you just had to keep sticking your nose where it shouldn’t.” Genre: Thriller/Horror Warnings: profanity, explicit violence, murder, mentions of drugs and death threats, mdni WC: 949 a/n: I cannot stress enough that this is fiction. This does not portray the people in this story in any way, shape, or form. And please read the warnings carefully, you are in charge of what you consume on the internet. If I missed any content warnings please let me know. Feedbacks and reblogs are always deeply appreciated!

“Maybe you should ask for an assistant. Or maybe, a leave? Do college club managers even have them?” Maya rambles on about how you should take a rest. 

You had been swamped. Being appointed the swim team’s manager two-thirds of the way through the semester had not been something you planned on doing initially. But, the title was something that you thought would fit quite nicely on your resume as a physical therapist that wanted to specialize in sports rehabilitation. The previous manager, Wonbin, had abruptly quit after his brother’s body was found in a lake in the outskirts of town. You couldn’t blame him. He and Seonghwa were practically inseparable. It must’ve been unbearable for him to associate himself with the sport when it reminded him so much of his brother. 

The two of you stop at the entryway to the university pool. 

“I know I may seem tired, but I’ll be fine. I’m just getting used to this schedule and stuff.” I say, with a tight-lipped smile. I don’t know who I was trying to convince, Maya or myself? 

“Be honest, did you take the position so you could stare at cute boys in swim trunks?” Maya whispers at me. This makes me chuckle. 

“Well…..” I say, as I jokingly tuck my hair behind my ears. Maya bursts into a giggle herself before shaking her head then bidding me goodbye. 

When I get to coach Choi’s office, he has a full stack of paperwork waiting on my desk waiting for me. 

“Ah, y/n. Glad to see you. I have a meeting with the other coaches in the district about the upcoming preliminaries, and I need to do research on the teams that will be participating this year. I know it’s a lot, but you’re a bright kid. I know you can get it done.” coach Choi gives me a strong pat on the back before rushing out the door. 

“Don’t forget to lock up when you’re done or else we’ll get in trouble with security!” he yells, right before shutting the door. 

You sigh, it was going to be a long night. 

-----

You wake up with a sharp inhale. The office lamp is all that illuminates coach Choi’s office. The computer monitor had long since powered off from inactivity. Your neck hurt from sleeping in such an awful position. You shake your head and decide to finish the work tomorrow. There was no way you could get any quality research done when your body was so exhausted anyway. You stand up to collect your things and get ready to leave for your dorm. You turn off the lamp and make sure to lock the door on the way out. 

You hear a ruckus in the men’s shower room. Strange. It was well into the evening and swim practice had ended around an hour and a half ago. You approach the locker room, purely just to scold whoever was staying in way past the allowed swimming hours. As you walk in the locker room, you stop in your tracks when you hear a certain voice.  

Wonbin?

“I fucking know it was you! How could you do that to your own teammate! After everything he fucking did for you?!” Wonbin shouted. His voice was distraught, filled with a rage that was not at all like the kind and smiley boy you knew him as. 

“God. Will you just shut up?”

Yunho? Jeong Yunho? The junior ace of the swim team that was next in line to become the swim team captain after Seonghwa graduated? And what is Wonbin even talking about? “You didn’t like that he was scouted for the Olympic team instead of you.” Wonbin starts. “So you drugged him, dumped him in a lake, and made it look like an overdose.” 

Yunho just scoffs at his statement. “And you were the one who sent me death threats.” Wonbin accuses. 

“You know, I did try to warn you. But you just had to keep sticking your nose where it shouldn’t.” Yunho dismisses. 

A shiver goes down your spine. Seonghwa was murdered? But the police report- Your train of thought was interrupted by a commotion. You hear a shuffle right before a struggle ensues between them. Bodies slamming against the lockers, punches being thrown, and profanities being screamed. They were moving closer to where you had been huddled behind a bunch of lockers. You were trapped. There was no way you could exit without being caught. So this is when you make the single handedly biggest mistake of your life. 

You hide inside a locker. 

For what feels like hours, you hear the fight grow closer. Then Yunho slams Wonbin to a locker across from the one you were hiding in. Tears are streaming down your face at this point. He wraps his arms around his neck and squeezes, causing him to gasp for air and struggle against his grip. All of which are futile as Yunho clearly has the physical upperhand. 

“God. You are just like him. Always so headstrong. Always so stubborn. Always so selfish. He got what he deserved. And now, you will too.” 

Slowly, you start to see the life drain from his eyes. He struggles less and less. Then he stops altogether. A deafening plop is heard as Yunho lets go of him and he falls to the floor. You cover your mouth and try to even out your breathing. The horrific scene before you ingrained into your retinas. 

“You know,” Yunho starts, his back towards you, looking down at Wonbin’s dead body.  “I usually love it when people scream for me during my swim meets.” 

Then he looks directly in your direction.

[losver07]

was working on my wip and realised this scene is so wolfstar coded so ummm here ya go (sorry in advance for the awful translation lol)

also this is veeery long so i'm putting most of it under the cut

tw: mention of death, harsh(ish) lenguage

★

"Then came the ambulance and the police,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed somewhere in the room, mind showing him once again the image of Sirius' tired smile. "They gave me a blanket. I felt stupid in it."

John, observing him with deep eyes, full of compassion, nods. Remus figures he can't show it, the pity. That it's part of his job not being able to say Oh, you poor thing and that, instead, he must be professional. And it's not that John is bad at it, at hiding what he thinks; it's just the eyes.

It's impossible to lie with one's eyes. Sirius' always shine, even if he insists on wearing the blackest clothes.

Shined. Not anymore. And he doesn't dress in black anymore, it's Remus who has to mourn now, instead of him. And for him.

"How are you feeling?" the psychologist asks, and Remus makes an effort not to cry.

"I don't know," he answers, honest. He doesn't know what words to use. "Bad."

Not enough. John gestures at him to keep talking, to elaborate. He always does that. It's cruel.

Remus looks down at a ring he takes off his finger, and proceeds to watch it turn in his hands as he fidgets with it. It was Sirius'. Everything he owns was either his or reminds him of him in some way. Even the smallest of things, the silliest of details.

If only he could get rid of it all. If only he knew that'd make him forget.

"It's like I don't really believe this is real,” he says, without lifting his gaze from the steel ring. It's carved in a checkered pattern, a chess board that extends and hugs the owner's finger like a ribbon. It's not excessively visible but, if you brush your finger against the metal, you can feel the shapes against your skin, kissing your fingertips like he once did. That feels like so long ago, though. “I... I'm sad, obviously, but also angry. I think it was selfish of him."

Before it had been his, Sirius', the ring had belonged to Regulus. It had been silver then. Sirius turned it into steel when he'd received it from his brother, who got it from their father, whose father had gifted him it, and so on. It must be hundreds of years old.

"Selfish?"

He'll probably ask to be buried with it. If it's not worn on his left hand, it will be trapped on a chain around his neck.

"Yeah, I dunno," he shrugs. He doesn't know how to explain himself. He knows how he feels, he just finds it difficult to believe that anyone could understand it. He tries anyway. "He's gone and he's left us all here as if we didn't have enough problems of our own," he says. "Like, now I have to be myself, which is already tough enough, and also be him for James and Peter and Harry and... Oh, God, Harry..." He shuts his eyes. He needs to breathe. He closes his hand over the ring, and looks at John. "But I need him too. And I don't have him. I don't have anyone to treat me like he did. So, I don't know."

The therapist nods again. When he started the sessions, Remus thought it was weird that John didn't take any notes, like in the movies. It might sound stupid, but he imagined someone constantly writing on a notepad, making a record of every word that came out of his mouth.

It turns out John only uses his notebook to write dates and appointments down; that he actually listens to what he says, instead of analysing every sentence as if it were a mathematical problem.

He's been lucky, and he knows it. At least in this, he's been lucky.

"Do you feel responsible for what happened?" He asks, and Remus thinks about it for a second. Now that the unease has lessened, he's left with just the cold on the tip of his nose and the metal on his fingers. He misses hugging Sirius on cold days like this one.

"Yes," he answers. No point in lying.

John stares at him. Elaborate, he's probably thinking. He always looks at him like that when he wants to make Remus talk.

"I'm the one who was supposed to take care of him," he says then. "And, instead of that, what I did was use him to make him help me with my shit. And even after he's gone I'm still whining about him not being here to give me cuddles. I don't know. Maybe I'm the one who's being selfish.

The psychologist, whose diploma is Remus now observing, makes a face.

"Wanting love is not selfish, Remus," he says, so soft and kind it almost makes Remus feel small, vulnerable and about to break. Or already broken.

"But taking the love away from someone and keeping it to yourself is," he objects.

"You think that's what you did? Taking the love from him?"

"I don't know," he says, and before John can ask him to explain, he continues: "I think maybe if I'd made things right he'd still be here."

The air is still for a few seconds, both in the room and in the street across the window, as well as inside of Remus' lungs, who holds his breath in an attempt to make the ache on his chest go away. It doesn't work.

"It wasn't your fault that he suffered," Josh tells him, but he's been told so many lies he doesn't need to think to detect the lie.

"But it was that he didn’t stop suffering," he tells Mr Too Good For Taking Notes. He should've had that noted. "I should've done something. It's what I'd to have done."

John, wanting to understand but being apparently incapable of it, furrows his brows a bit. The expressions only last a second, and is not even that exaggerated, but Remus sees it anyway. The doubt.

"You think it was your purpose?" He asks. He acts interested. Sometimes he almost even makes Remus forget that he's paid for what he does. That he wouldn't be there if it weren't for the money. That he's got better things to do than...

"Helping him?" Remus asks, trying not to sound too aggressive, but probably failing. "Yes."

"And do you think you were, say, destined to save him?"

"Yes," he agrees. A bit cheesy his personal taste, but, yes, that's what he believes. Why lie, if he's not going to write it down, even.

"But, if it was destiny, how could you have avoided it?"

That feels like a boot to the stomach. He doesn't quite know wether it confuses him or it makes him angry but, either way, he doesn't know what to answer. Perhaps not having thought of it earlier is what irritates him and puts him, once again, in front of a mirror in which a disappointment shines.

He thinks for a bit. Then speaks.

"Trying harder," he says. "Being better."

"No, Remus; is not about trying," his confidant tells him, with a smile that could either indicate complicity or compassion. "You did all that you could, and more. And, still, you couldn't change it, nor can you now."

For some reason, that hurts. Rather, it stings. Both in his open wounds and his sore eyes.

"And what do I do?" He asks. His voice doesn't seem to want to know the answer, as it doesn't cooperate in making itself heard. He swallows and takes a deep breath, letting Sirius' ring slide back into his finger, where it should always have stayed.

"Think about what you did achieve," John offers, so careful it seems almost meticulous. "You made him happy for a time, you gave him peace. You made him feel safe, too. Confident. You helped each other. That's good."

"But he's dead," Remus says. He's not sure he's used that word since it happened. It's not likely, seeing how much it hurts pronouncing it. He's spent over a month circling around and avoiding one of those damned words, the ones that feel like mines in an already ruined field. He presses his lips and looks at John, cheeks wet with rivers of salty water. "That's bad."

"Yes," the therapist agrees. "That is bad."

[layer-10-love]

Lady Moon.

2012 leo x reader-

As the leader or the team, Leo tended to be more focused in leading and less interested in other ‘lesser’ hobbies. So it’s a bit of a surprise when you find a romance novel underneath his pillow.

aka, boy fail cringe leo (affectionate) also i wrote this like in 40 minutes so apologies for bad writing

As the appointed leader, Leo tried to be serious and mature about his role;with no help from his brothers. Strong, calm, confident, stoic and mature was what he was supposedly was. Unfortunately, anyone that knew him for more than a few minutes would know that he is none of these things. At least to a certain extent.

Truth is, Leo…was a big fat nerd. No surprise there. He liked watching space heroes and often gushed about it to the nearest living creature, giving them new meaningless memories and a massive headache. He liked making stupid jokes and god awful puns. It was honestly sorta cute to you.

What was a surprise was the book that was underneath his pillow. You technically weren’t supposed to be going through his things, but he technically should’ve given back that black cat plushie you let him borrow for Halloween. Picking up the book, you glance over the title.

‘The Man and the Moon.’

From the looks of it, it was a romance novel.

…Leo? Leon? Leonardo? Fearless?

You never pegged him for the type to read romance books, hell, you never pegged him for the type to read things other than Japanese literature or comic books.

‘A classic romance novel tells the story of two star-crossed lovers, Max and Luna - both literally and figuratively. Max is a successful businessman who has dedicated his entire life to making his dreams come true, and Luna is a quiet and mysterious woman who seems to have a special connection with the moon. Despite coming from different backgrounds, Max and Luna quickly find themselves drawn to each other, and they must navigate the rocky terrain of love and discover the true meaning of happiness.’

You read as you skimmed over the summarization of the novel. It seemed like a good read! But, if you talked to Leo about your little discovery, you’d probably be in for another classic Leo Lecture about not snooping. Again, it was fair in your humble opinion.

And if you shared this information with his brothers, he would be ridiculed and mocked by his brothers, despite them having weirder hobbies. Aka, Mikey and his weird obsession with boiling pizza. Ah, brotherly love.

You made a mental note on the book and carefully stored it away underneath Leo’s soft pillow.

He doesn’t need to know.

——-

Leo seemed to be busy more often than usual, with the lame excuse of being occupied with meditation and training in his room.

Which was a bummer since tonight was a movie night with everyone. Raph, Mikey, Donnie, April and even Casey were here!

You huffed and sat on the floor in front of Mikey who was sitting on the couch.

“So, what shitty slasher flick are we watching tonight?”

Raph grinned menacingly while holding a dvd and standing in front of the television.

“It’s not a slasher film, god knows Mikey would have nightmares again. Not that I’m against the idea of Mikey suffering, but I don’t want to have to let him sleep in my bed again.”

Mikey cheered from the back,

“I knew you cared about me! See, Casey? Raph likes me more than you.”

Casey frowned and groaned.

“C'mon! Do we really have to watch a baby version of scary movies?! What happened to entertainment and morality?”

“I’m surprised you know the word, ‘morality’”, teased April.

“Nah, I think he’s just throwing out random words and hoping that one of them will make sense. Remember when he said that we should ‘photosynthesis’ and ‘equilibrium’ with the enemy?”, you add mockingly, “You almost made Donnie pop a blood vessel.”

Speaking of Donnie, he rushed right through his lab door carrying multiple blueprints and plans for whatever new project he was working on.

“Hey four eyes! Gonna join us for crappy baby's first horror flick?”

“Why do you call me four eyes, Casey? I’ve never even worn glasses before, so why would you nickname me something that doesn't make any sense?”

“Easy.”, started Casey, “Glasses make you a nerd. YOU are a nerd without glasses, therefore you need glasses since you’re a nerd.”

“Casey connecting the dots? Hell must’ve flown over and pigs must’ve learnt to fly.”, you snickered.

After a whole debate between Donnie and Casey, the pizza was brought by Mikey and the rest of the snacks were laid on the floor by April and Raph. Monthly movie nights were truly a miracle.

But, there’s something missing.

“Where’s Leo?”, Mikey questioned while taking a disgustingly large bite of his pizza.

“Fearless? Eh, he’s probably in the dojo training like always.”

“Probably, but usually everyone joins for these types of things! Do you think he’s training or doing something else?”

“If you care so much why don’t you ask him for yourself, [Name]?”, Raph says, really not caring about anything else other than the movie that he picked.

You grumble and reluctantly head over to Leo’s room, hoping that he wasn’t doing teenage boy activities. Ugh.

You considered knocking on his door, but then you remembered the plushie he never returned and slammed the door open.

Leo scrambled off the bed and onto the ground, holding a familiar book before throwing it off into the distance, praying you didn’t see. He chuckled nervously while leaning suspiciously on his bed.

“Oh! Hey, [Name]…! Uh…do you need something?”

He seemed so anxious and nervous…it was actually kinda cute! It’s like you have two little creatures on your shoulder, each one trying to give you a way to navigate this whole situation.

‘Leave him alone and give him space! That’s the nice thing to do.’, says the one on your right shoulder.

‘Get the book and make fun of him!!!’, giggles the one on your left shoulder.

…it’s obvious who won.

“What were you reading, Leo?” You ask with a teasing grin, watching him squirm under your gaze.

“Oh…uh me? Uhm…comic books! Yeah comic books! I was reading a really weird part so that’s why I was surprised when you came in and…”

Whatever other words that were being soren from him was ignored, you only think about how oddly adorable it was.

You glance at where the book was hastily hidden and chuckled.

“What comic was it?”

Before Leo could make another desperate and obvious lie, you quickly snatched up the book from where he tossed it and read the title. It was the same one as before.

“The Man and the Moon?”, you teased.

“That isn’t mine! April just asked me to hold on to it for her!”, he blushed as he tried to regain his confidence and composure.

“Cmon, Leo, we both know you can’t lie to save your shell.”

He paused and looked away, blushing furiously and fidgeting with his fingers. You sighed and took his hand.

“Hey.”, you look into his eyes. “I pinky swear that I won’t tell your brothers. You know how they are.”, you think back to the time Raph was found playing a dating simulator, and how the bickering lasted for weeks.

“Plus,”, you continued, “it’s not the worst thing you've ever done.”

“…You don’t think it’s weird?”, he asked cautiously.

“Why would it be weird? Like, people read romance all the time.”

“But, y’know…I’m a guy…and a mutant turtle…and well…”

You shrugged and climbed onto his bed, leaning against his plastron once you had sat down next to him.

“Romance is nice, I guess. It’s just another genre in a variety of genres.”, you felt and heard his heart thump faster as he gulped nervously.

“So…”, You started, “Are you gonna go to movie night or what?”

Leo’s eyes widened as he seemed to have a revelation.

“The movie! Crap, I forgot about that!”

[ino-takumas-baggy-sweater]

Stolen Dance - Yuji Itadori x Reader

Taking a small break from my two Sukuna series to publish this, it's been on my mind for a while especially with tangled Kingdom Dance brainrot (tangled is by far my favourite disney movie) and I just wanted to write some fluffy Yuji to go with it ❤️

Part of my Royal AU

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.2k

“Prince Yuji!” You whisper loudly, “Do not make me do this, you know I never learned to dance!” He looks back at you, still clutching your hand in his with a frighteningly disarming smile on his face that breaks down any argument you had almost instantaneously. “It’s ok, I’m pretty clumsy too, but that’s alright,” He says brightly.

You blush as he squeezes your hand, “I must insist your highness, it is most improper of you to be dancing with someone of my standing!” You hiss. He stops pulling you, looking you up and down briefly. The ball was for his brother, Crown Prince Choso, on his twenty first birthday, and you were a commoner from the town, your father working as a blacksmith and your mother a tailor.

“Who says so?” He tilts his head in such an innocent fashion that your heart breaks slightly. You’ve been friends with the Itadori prince since you were young, your parents were not of high status but your mother was the best dressmaker in Khoccadia, so Yuji’s mother, the queen, called on her often for measurements and orders of extravagant dresses.

You’d often gone with her as her assistant, even when you were young, and she spent an awful lot of time teaching you things you would have learned in school if you’d been allowed to go. When you were not needed during these palace appointments you found yourself in the company of Kaori’s second son, Yuji Itadori.

It has been a fair few years, just shy of thirteen, since you first met him at six years old apiece peeking around his mother’s skirts, your hands clutching a basket of your mother’s sewing implements with her tape measure hanging from your shoulder. Your own dress at the time was a modest pale pink colour, not too different from the colour of his hair, and it was the first thing he noticed and spoke to you about.

“Yuji be reasonable, I am not the daughter of a lord, I am the daughter of a blacksmith and a tailor, if we are seen together in such a public setting-” He cuts you off by stepping closer and using his free hand to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. You fall silent, a blush settling on your cheeks, “Why should I care what they think?” He murmurs, “You’re my friend, and I’m the prince, I should be allowed to dance with whoever I want,”

“It is precisely because you are the prince that we cannot,” You reply softly, looking away from his hand, “I… I cannot bear the thought of so many eyes on me, especially when most of them belong to princesses who would be right at home in your arms in a ballroom,” You feel him shift and look back to see him on one knee before you, his free hand against his heart and still clutching your own.

He looks up at you after taking a deep breath, “Y/n L/n, will you do me the honour and allow me to have your first dance?” You press your free hand to your mouth, a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your dress. This one was made and gifted to you by your mother, a beautiful f/c dress with lacy white flowers embroidered along the bottom hem, slightly off the shoulder with a modest necklace to match, and is definitely fitting of a ballroom of such grandeur.

You see your mother’s soft smile in your head, imagine what she would say if she saw you right now standing in the candlelit hallway with the second prince of your kingdom on one knee, practically begging for you to let him take you back to the ballroom and dance with him. With a deep and shaking breath you let your hand fall to your side, clutching at the skirts of your dress, “You… would seek to steal my first dance like a common thief,” You say, your voice wobbly but your head held high.

He smirks, a wicked thing that sends electricity down your spine, “Oh but I am no thief, my lady, I am but a humble man who wishes to dance with a beautiful girl on a beautiful night, will you be so cruel as to deny me my wish?” The hand that was behind his back is revealed to your eyes suddenly, something resting on his palm as he offers it to you, “Will you go to the ball with me?”

It’s a small bundle of f/c flowers, a wrist corsage with matching ribbons and some intermittent leaves that bring the piece together. You cover your mouth again, tears slipping from your eyes, and he is on his feet in an instant, pulling out his handkerchief and gently swiping the tears away while being careful not to squish the flowers, “Do not cry my lady, it does not befit someone of such beauty,” He murmurs.

“I cry only for you, my sweet prince,” You murmur, “For your heart is as pure as a dewdrop on a rose, your smile as bright as chimes in the wind, I seek only for you to be happy, and if this will make you happy…” You trail off, offering him your wrist, “Then we shall return to the ball together,” He ties the corsage to your wrist with gentle fingers that brush your skin like downy chick feathers, your heart is surely thumping hard enough to be heard from the roof.

Once done he offers you an elbow and you loop your arm through, holding him tightly as your nerves skyrocket. “Allow me to be your knight in shining armour, my lady, I will not leave your side until you declare you are too tired to continue dancing, then I shall escort you to your front door,” You open your mouth to insist he doesn’t have to but before you can he pushes open a door and the sounds of the ball wash over the pair of you.

“After you my lady,” He says, holding the door open as you step past him into the warmth. Once you are inside he is pulling you to the dancefloor with slightly less vigour than he was pulling you through the halls before, and you see him exchange a wink with the band at the end of the hall. The music is quick to change to something light and airy, the rest of the couples spreading out slightly and you take your place in the line of women, standing across from him.

You can already feel the eyes burning through your dress, seeing through your disguise, but he locks his eyes onto yours and you find you cannot look away. This is one dance you can admit you do know, for it is a more traditional one that you have danced with your mother in her sewing room as she seeks distraction from her work, but you did not know Yuji knew it too.

You suspect his wordless exchange with the band has something to do with it, you’re sure they wouldn’t have played this had he not asked, and as the dance begins you find yourself swept in in the tide of people, dancing with anyone and everyone until you reach Yuji at the climax and stay with him until the end, just as every other couple.

You find yourself to be a little out of breath when the song is over and the band’s tone melts into something slower, his arm slipping tighter around your waist and the other sliding up your side to direct your corsage wrist out to the side, lacing his fingers with yours, “Just follow my lead, trust me,” He murmurs, seeing the slight distress in your eyes.

Your torso is pressed up against his, you can feel every button on his jacket and every ridge of his belt, even through your worn-out corset that has really seen better days. Your breath hitches as he starts to move, your free hand finally finding it’s place over his shoulder and resting on the back of his neck, “Yuji, I-” “Shhh,” He murmurs, leaning forwards slightly until his lips are just above your ear, still moving with the music, “You’re safe in my arms, nobody but me can touch you, alright?”

He peeks down at you, “You trust me, right?” Flustered, you struggle to reply at first, but he continues speaking, “When you’re not focused on your feet, you can easily pass for someone who’s had a few lessons,” He’s right, you haven’t been focusing on the movements at all and neither of you has tripped or embarrassed the other.

His grip on your waist tightens slightly as you miss a step, “Hey, focus on me, not on your feet, don’t go ruining your perfect streak just because of something I said,” His lips curl into a lopsided smile, charming and disarming all at once as you fall back into step with him instinctively.

You can hardly call these movements dancing, but nobody else is in a hurry to dance extravagantly so you fit right in among the other couples. “Happy birthday brother,” Yuji nods over your shoulder but you don’t turn your head for the lingering fear of tripping. “Thank you Yuji,” You hear the low rumble of Prince Choso beyond you, and soon he passes into the corner of your eye with a lovely blonde woman in his arms, “It is good to see you well Miss L/n,” He nods to you and you feel yourself flush under his gaze.

“Th-thank you your highness,” You reply cordially, “I trust you are also well?” He smiles softly, “I am happy when my brothers are happy, so yes, I am well,” He glances at Yuji who noticeably blushes for the first time tonight, “Be sure she arrives home safely now brother,” Choso says somewhat sternly before he and his dance partner drift off into the crowd once more.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you,” You hear Yuji murmur which brings your gaze back to his face from where you were following Choso’s departure. His face is soft, his cheeks relaxed and you see a light in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Or perhaps you have, deep in the palace gardens, in your mother’s studio, in front of a huge ornate fireplace in some forgotten lounge room of the palace on a rainy day tucked beneath piles of blankets.

You’re reminded of many moments spent looking into his eyes and seeing an outpouring of unfiltered affection, and suddenly you find yourself overwhelmed. You press further into him, leaning your head sideways against his shoulder as his hand lets yours go and he holds you by your waist, your other arm tucking around his neck too, “Oh Yuji,” You whisper.

He softly shushes you, “I’m not letting you go, I promise,” The music dies away slightly and changes tune again and he is quick to lead you from the dancefloor, his hand staying firmly in yours even under the scrutiny of his father who seems to be able to seek you out no matter where you stand, “Yuji… will you take me home?” You ask once you’re out of the majority of the crowd.

He nods, “Of course my lady,” And the pair of you make the trek to the palace stables where he picks out the sweetest horse for you, a grey mare called Blossom, and then lifts you easily onto her back. You shift until you’re seated comfortably in the side-saddle, afraid of ruining your dress should you sit properly, and he is by your side on his beautiful brown stallion, who you heard him call Ace, before you notice he’s gone.

“Comfortable?” He asks, as if the saddle wasn’t specifically designed for a lady’s comfort in mind, “Let us be off,” The ride is spent deep in wondrous conversation about many things, important and mundane, and when your home is in sight your mother is in the doorway with her hand against her heart, waving happily, “Oh thank goodness you made it here safely!” She says, “A thousand thanks your highness, for bringing my daughter back unharmed,”

Yuji dismounts and then walks to your side, lifting you off your horse with his hands on your hips, “It was nothing Miss L/n, please, just call me Yuji,” “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” You offer quietly, brushing your skirts off slightly as one of his hands lingers on your waist. “How could I refuse?” He smiles down at you, “Lead the way,”

And if, that night, you ended the night by kissing the second prince of Khoccadia, then you were surely dreaming. But if he asked for your hand in marriage not a week later, were you still dreaming? And when your father gave his blessing, was that also a dream?

Your wedding day, more than you could ever hope for and born from a stolen dance, simply could not have been a dream you concluded. Nothing in your wildest imagination could ever compare to the beauty and happiness of that day, and in his arms you knew that nothing could come between you ever again. There was not a single title nor social standing that could come between your prince and his first love.

Hope you enjoyed this, I wrote it all in like two hours when the brainrot took over :))

also because I'm a sucker for yuji+choso sibling fanart please go look at this one by poyopaan here on Tumblr, yes I am starting the fanart thing i said I would before ❤

[cailinsblog]

**The Unexpected Blessing**

John Marino x reader

Really long

The Bell Centre in Montreal was electric with energy. The Canadiens were on a winning streak, and John Marino, the Devils' star defenseman, was doing his part to keep their hopes alive. But amid the cheers and roars of the crowd, you were dealing with your own internal struggle—a test result that could change everything.

You stared at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, a mix of shock and excitement swirling in your chest. The pregnancy was unplanned, but you and John had always talked about having kids "someday." Was someday now? It was the middle of the NHL season, and John's schedule was unpredictable. Would he be as excited as you were? Or would he be stressed, thinking about the disruption this could cause?

But there was no turning back. You were pregnant, and John deserved to know.

That evening, when he returned home, you were a bundle of nerves. You'd decided to surprise him, so you'd wrapped a tiny red baby onesie with "Marino" and his jersey number on the back. You placed the box on the kitchen counter, knowing that was the first place he'd head after a game.

When John walked through the door, his bag slung over his shoulder, you felt your heart leap. "Hey, babe," he said, giving you a quick kiss. "How was your day?"

"Good," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I got you something."

John raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh? What's the occasion?"

"Just open it," you said, trying to hide your excitement.

John unwrapped the box and pulled out the onesie. His eyes widened, and he looked at you in disbelief. "Wait, are you...?"

You nodded, tears filling your eyes. "I'm pregnant, John. We're having a baby."

John's face lit up with a mixture of joy and shock. He dropped the onesie and hugged you tightly. "This is amazing," he said, lifting you off the ground. "We're having a baby! Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," you replied, laughing through your tears. "Just a little overwhelmed."

John kissed you, his excitement contagious. "This is the best surprise ever. We're going to be parents! I can't wait to tell everyone."

But the months that followed were a roller coaster of emotions. The first trimester was challenging—morning sickness hit hard, and you often felt exhausted and nauseous. John did his best to be there for you, but with the demands of the NHL season, he was often away on road trips. There were nights when you'd call him, tears in your eyes, because you felt so alone.

"It's okay, babe," John would say over the phone. "I'm here for you. I'll be home soon. I promise."

But the distance took its toll on your relationship. You became clingy, needing constant reassurance from John. He understood, but it wasn't easy. He'd often return home late at night, tired from a game or a flight, only to find you waiting up for him, needing to talk.

"I'm sorry, John," you'd say, feeling guilty for keeping him up. "I just miss you so much."

"Don't be sorry," he'd reply, pulling you into his arms. "I miss you too. I'm glad you're here when I get back."

His teammates noticed the strain as well. The Hughes brothers, Jack and Luke, became like family to you, checking in when John was away. Jack would bring you coffee and pastries, knowing you craved comfort food during your pregnancy. Luke would drop by to watch movies, keeping you company on nights when you felt especially lonely.

But there were bright spots too. The ultrasound appointments where you got to hear the baby's heartbeat, and the day you found out you were having a girl. You called John right away, his excitement palpable even through the phone.

"A girl?" he said, his voice full of awe. "I'm going to have a little girl? That's incredible."

As your belly grew, so did the anticipation. John started buying baby clothes and nursery decorations, even though you kept telling him it was too early. But he couldn't help himself—he was excited to be a dad, and he wanted everything to be perfect for his daughter.

The closer you got to your due date, the more anxious you became. What if John wasn't there when the baby came? What if he was on a road trip and missed the birth? These thoughts haunted you, and you often found yourself crying late at night, overwhelmed by the uncertainty.

"It's going to be okay," John would say, holding you close. "I'll be there for you, no matter what. I promise."

But the night you went into labor, John was in Toronto for a game. The contractions started slowly, a dull ache in your lower back, but they quickly intensified. You knew you had to get to the hospital, but John was miles away, and there was no time to wait.

You called John, your voice filled with panic. "John, I think it's time," you said, struggling to stay calm. "The baby's coming."

"I'm on my way," he replied, his voice urgent. "Just hang in there. I'll be there as soon as I can."

John caught the first flight back to New Jersey, but by the time he arrived at the hospital, you were already in active labor. He rushed into the delivery room, his eyes wide with concern. "I'm here, babe," he said, taking your hand. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

You squeezed his hand, tears streaming down your face. "I'm glad you're here now," you said, feeling a wave of relief.

The labor was long and exhausting, filled with moments of pain and uncertainty. But John was by your side through it all, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement. It was a difficult experience, but knowing that John was there made it all bearable.

Finally, after hours of labor, your baby girl was born. She was healthy and beautiful, her tiny cries filling the room. You and John held her together, tears of joy in your eyes. It was a moment of pure happiness, a culmination of all the struggles and challenges you'd faced over the past months.

John kissed you, his eyes filled with love and gratitude. "We did it," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "We have a daughter."

You nodded, your heart overflowing with joy. "We did it," you replied, holding your baby girl close.

After the game, John took you and your baby girl home, where you settled into the new rhythm of parenthood. There were sleepless nights and endless diaper changes, but you wouldn't have it any other way. The journey had been challenging, but it had brought you and John closer than ever before.

As you cuddled on the couch, your baby girl sleeping peacefully in your arms, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful chapter in your lives. The struggles and hardships had only made the bond between you and John stronger, and you knew that together, you could face anything.

[swiftsdelucaa]

Could I please have an imagine where the reader moves to Seattle. She starts out as a pediatrician at grey loan. Around this time she realizes she's pregnant. With Carina DeLuca as her ob-gyn and coworker the two fall for each other. Carina did not expect to fall for a pregnant woman but realized she knows what she wants. So she asks you out and you say yes around the time you are halfway through the pregnancy. by the end of the pregnancy, it becomes clear you much you and your baby mean to her. When you go into labor she freaks out and comments that “My girlfriend is having our baby!” (you hear her say that but say nothing due to the pain). When the baby is born she is in awe of the tiny human but kinda keeps to the side for a few minutes until you say “come meet OUR son.” Carina tries to apologize for calling him hers but the reader says that Carina is his mother too. Just like a cute family thing please?

❛ 𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 ❜

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Carina DeLuca x f!reader ♡

𝘼/𝙣: I was in the right mood for this lol, enjoy!

You've always loved kids, you would do anything to make them happy. Telling a parent the good news about their child was what you made a living for and although you were aware of the difficult times, you knew how to handle them.

But then just during your successful time in this place you found out you were pregnant. It shocked you enough, because you didn't plan it. You didn't even have a father by your side. It was one of those silly one night stands. You had always been skeptical about this type of thing, but others really instigated you to find distractions outside work and you thought that for once nothing bad would happen if you had some fun. But here's the world turning upside down on you.

As mentioned you could handle any situation, thinking about your life with a baby got you so excited. Yes, you would have loved it, even if as a single mother it would have been a little more taxing. So now you find yourself working for lovely kids while also being careful to take care of the baby you were carrying.

You took it upon yourself to find an appointment with a gynecologist, you certainly wanted your baby to grow up healthy. You were so flustered the first time.

"Good morning" you were greeted by a pretty girl who smiled at you as you sat on the couch.

"Hi" you greeted her with a polite smile, looking around the room a bit.

"You nervous?" the woman asked.

"You don't know how much" you replied with a chuckle at the end.

"It's okay, it's normal" she said making you lie down.

"So, first time?" she asked.

"Yeah"

"I'm doctor DeLuca, Carina DeLuca" she held out her hand to shake it, which you did.

"DeLuca... it's familiar..." you said reflecting.

"Probably you know my brother, Andrew" you nodded to her statement, you had already worked with him a few times.

"Yeah, well I'm Y/n L/n" a smile appeared on her face as soon as she heard your name.

"The famous Y/n, that one who does miracles for kids, finally I meet you" for some strange reason the way she told you that almost made you blush.

"Ok, let's start" she lifted your shirt slightly and took the tools. You moaned as your skin touched the cold gel she smeared on you, and she began to shift her gaze to the monitor. All your emotions and thoughts were stopped by the sound of your baby's heartbeat, which made you cry.

"See, it's here" Carina pointed to the baby's position on the monitor as you looked at it with the tears in your eyes.

"It's a healthy eight week fetus!" the smile on your face increased, unable to hold the tears.

"Hey" Carina wiped the gel off your belly and pulled your shirt back down.

"I, sorry, I don't-"

"No no, it means you care, it's good" she stroked your hand while you wiped away your tears.

"Yeah, thank you, now I should..." you got up from the couch recovering and motioning to have to go.

"I'll make other appointments for you, we'll make sure everything goes well" she took out a notebook to take notes. You stopped at the doorway, smiling one last time at the girl.

"I can't wait" then you went out. After the door closed she mumbled another sentence. "Mee too"

Luckily the meetings went better and better, your baby was growing up perfectly. And the company was pleasant too. Carina stood by you whenever she needed it, she helped you tell others and was there through the ups and downs, she was the moral support you needed.

During the middle of the pregnancy you already couldn't take it anymore. It got tiring and excruciating, and after you found out the baby's sex you wanted to know him even more. You were so happy, you would have prepared to welcome a baby boy. And on the same day Carina asked you out. To be honest she caught you a bit off guard, you were so pregnant and she was your gynecologist…

She apologized immediately after she asked, sounding quite embarrassed, but you made her even more surprised when you said yes. You had thought about her, indeed this woman seemed to show so much interest on you and your baby, and that was all it mattered to you.

You didn't regret saying yes, you had a wonderful evening, and she now took better care of you than before. Even being able to get to know her brother better and watch their quarrels in Italian amused you a lot.

When you went into labor you were completely unprepared, you were washing up for surgery with Alex, which was probably inappropriate being at your ninth month pregnant, and then your water broke. It was lucky that there was someone else with you, because you had completely panicked. He immediately had you loaded onto a stretcher, calling Carina and Arizona, only the best for you.

The contractions increased more and more, becoming almost unbearable, Carina was next to you shaking your hand.

"You... you know that you can resort to orgasm if..."

"Carina, I'd rather have sex with you under more normal circumstances!" you cut her off knowing where she was getting at, starting screaming in pain in the end.

"My girlfriend is having our baby!" she exclaimed with happiness as you continued to scream.

Well yes, it was tiring, but you managed to get to the end, being able to hold your beautiful baby in your arms. He was so beautiful, you were very very happy at that moment. You sought Carina with the gaze, finding her not far from the door walking around it.

"Hey" you got her attention. “Come meet our son” you said with a smile as she entered.

"I- I'm sorry... I was just-"

"It's okay, he's yours too, he's ours" before she could feel guilty you consoled her. You cared about her, you wanted her in your baby's life, you knew she would be happy.

She bent down to give you a kiss on your lips and stroked your hair. The baby's little noises made you stop attracting your attention.

"Oh, your mommies love you too" Carina gave him a kiss on his forehead, the sight of them made you laugh. It was so cute, maybe too much to be real. Together you would have been the best.

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Summary

Part 1

Lonely Boy

London, England

Present Day

“Promise me that you will be normal.”

“I am always normal.”

“That is demonstratively untrue. You are never normal,”

“Well then what do you want from me? If I am not normal to begin with, how can I be normal in this instance?”

“Fake it. Pretend.”

“Why don’t you just drive? In silence.”

Cassian sighed a dramatic sight, and continued on driving, preferring not to push the issue any further. Lord knew it took him months, actual months to convince his stubborn ass of a brother to actually agree to try this. In all honesty, Cassian was feeling exhausted. Drained. Defeated. And he never felt defeated. But this whole…thing…was akin to that Greek myth, with the guy who kept pushing a huge rock up a mountain, only to reach the top, and for the rock to skid back down and for the climb to resume again. And again. And again. That’s how he felt with his wayward, unruly, scandalous brother Azriel.

Azriel was looking out the car window, a scowl on his face.

Cassian wasn’t going to engage. The last thing he needed for his brother to say ‘turn the car around, I am not going’. He wasn’t going to risk it.

“Where are we even?” Azriel muttered at last, his brow furrowing as he looked at the unfamiliar streets. “Is this bird posh?”

Cassian arched a brow at him and blew out a breath. You can take the boys out of a council estate, but you can’t take the council estate out of the boys. He and Azriel grew up in abject poverty, with their alcoholic father, his cunt of a wife, and their two abhorrent step-brothers. Decades later, sometimes it slipped–Azriel’s plain talk. 

“Who cares if she is posh?” Cassian shrugged instead of answering. “You are Azriel Night. She should be impressed,”

Azriel rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Posh birds don’t care about all that.”

Here he was: the shy, awkward boy that Cassian remembered. Azriel, with his scarred hands, his awful self-esteem, his sense of unworthiness and his head full of doubts. Despite the blustering bravado that he usually carried like a shield, when left stripped and bare, Azriel was a boy who made it big, who got lucky in life, but who thought little of himself. 

Azriel sighed and then pointed at the window.

“Look!  A pub. Let’s stop and have a pint instead.”

Tempting as it was, Cassian shook his head determinedly and said, “No. We have an appointment and we will keep it.”

He glanced at Azriel and added, “And don’t be pouting.”

“I am not pouting!”

“You are definitely pouting.”

A moment later.

“And rolling your eyes.”

“Fuck off.”

“How about,” Cassian chewed the inside of his cheek and then offered, “we’ll get a pint after.”

“After, I’ll need heroin!”

Cassian didn’t bother responding–it was all just bluster anyway. Azriel didn’t even drink because he was training. And considering how badly the training was going, there wasn’t going to be any drinking or any heroin if he wanted to continue playing, and not get benched for the rest of the season.

Azriel was looking out the window with a mixture of disdain and interest. 

They were driving down a busy street, hotels and restaurants on both sides. There was the Fitzroy, its facade indulgently opulent and so overwhelmed with Victorian decorations, it looked ridiculous. Next to it, was an absolutely disastrous looking cement building, which used to be a hotel, but now seemed abandoned. A fucking crematorium would look cheerier than this grey cement monstrosity. 

“What is this?” Azriel asked again.

“Russell Square,” Cassian explained at last, while making a turn alongside the green square.

It was quaint here. Quiet. 

Finally, Azriel recognised the hulking mass of the British Museum. It wasn’t a place where he visited willingly, though he sort of recalled a school trip here. Beyond that, it was a black hole. 

He was mostly a shit student, so it didn’t surprise him that he didn’t remember. He wished that he was better–at everything–but his childhood was so precarious, he never allowed himself to hope or wish for better days. So why bother with education or culture if that could always be snatched away from him at any point? So he didn’t. And now, he regretted it. He regretted not spending more time learning about things, about the world, but wasting entirely too much time on doubting and challenging it.

The SatNav told them that they had arrived and Cassian killed the engine.

“Come on,” he motioned at Azriel firmly, “don’t puss out on me now. Let’s go.”

Clenching his teeth so hard he risked cracking a tooth, Azriel climbed out of the Jaguar. 

The two of them stood in front of a cute - charming even - Georgian row home, with an attached carriage house. The house was mostly white, with a bit of red brick, and covered in red and purple…well, flowering plant. Azriel wasn’t an expert in plants. He knew ivy and wisteria and that’s as far as it went. So whatever this was, it was beautiful, but he has no idea what it was. Marigold Agency was all it said on an old-fashioned hanging sign that swayed gently over the one-story carriage house. Could be anything. At least it saved Azriel more embarrassment and indignity. He was entering, or ducking, to be precise, into a vaguely named business. It could be a flower shop. A cafe. An ice cream shop.

Not a matchmaking agency. Nothing like that.

The weather was blustery, the skies slate grey, not even a hint of sun or light. Sinking deeper into his leather jacket, he finally entered the foyer, followed by Cassian. A bell chimed upon their entry, announcing them.

They stood in a plush, cosy space, with a fancy marble fireplace, and entirely too many flower arrangements. The walls were covered with tastefully framed, but absolutely cheesy inspirational love quotes. As he looked around, Azriel read gems such as:

Darling, you are all I ever wanted love to be…

True love is a journey without an end

I told the stars about you…And they answered

I crave a love that drowns oceans

When we have each other, we have everything

“In the name of Saint George, what the hell is this?” Azriel muttered under his breath, glancing around.

Cassian meanwhile, made himself comfortable in a plush sofa, dwarfing it with his massive size. The fire in the fireplace was roaring and created a nice respite from London’s awful October weather. 

The next moment, a three-legged pug came trotting in, huffing and snorting. He was wearing a spiffy blue bow and stared the two visitors down with his big buggy pug eyes. Azriel squatted low and let the dog sniff him, as he stroked the short fur and the multitude of rolls.

“Piglet!” a melodious voice called out. “How did you get out? Off you go back to the office! Come on!”

The pug snorted in indignation, while Azriel followed the sound of the voice. His eyes skimmed up, finding slender ankles and feet clad in black patent leather pumps–elegant, with one of those ‘kitten heels’. Is that what they were called? And how did he know that?

The owner of the expensive shoes wore a pleated silk skirt of deep cobalt and as he looked up, Azriel noted a tiny waist and a pair of ample tits. The posh bird–and he assumed that’s who this was–had a body to kill for. Definitely a hot little body, though she was dressed like some movie star from the 50s. Totally old fashioned and proper. Those nice soft tits were hidden beneath a black silk blouse, with a huge bow on the side of her neck. Apparently she and her pug liked strutting about wearing large bows. But to add to her old-fashioned attire, she also wore PEARLS. Real, honest to god pearls–a 3-strand pearl necklace, and pearl earrings. 

“Your pug’s name is Piglet?” Azriel asked, perplexed, as he straightened to his considerable height.

“It is indeed,” the girl…woman…confirmed.

She was a stunner to be sure. Early-twenties, he assumed, and it wasn’t just her attire that seemed vintage–she was a throwback to a bygone era. A soft lovely face, reminding him of classic cartoon princesses–huge round eyes, brown and gorgeous, a small pretty nose, pink cheeks and a pair of rosy lips, all framed by waves of light golden-brown hair. 

“Piglet, come,” she ordered again, and the pug finally ambled away from Azriel, energetically hopping on his three legs.

“Mr. Singer-Night?” she asked, boldly extending her hand.

“Mr. Night is fine,” Azriel corrected, and took her hand in his. Hers was soft, with little firm calluses and a nice grip.

He found himself being intrigued by this oddity. Not exactly attracted, though she was incredibly attractive, but more like fascinated. She was so different from every single other woman he’s ever been around, he didn’t know what to make of her. Granted, he didn’t spend much time in high society, but he spent enough to know that even there, girls such as this one were a rarity. 

“Of course,” she nodded once and then looked at Cassian, who got up from the sofa.

“Also Mr. Night,” Cassian smiled, his handsome face splitting into an affable grin. She offered him a little smile too, and for some reason, that made Azriel unhappy. He wasn’t angry exactly, but she barely reacted to him, and here she was, offering sweet smiles to his brother. It wasn’t unexpected–Cassian was fun. Big, burly, handsome, with his black Fabio-long hair and an easy, loose-limbed walk.  

“Are you brothers, gentlemen?” she inquired, motioning for them to follow her. 

“We are,” Cassian confirmed.

“Yes, I can see the resemblance,” she said breezily, to which Cassian responded, “Of course I am the more handsome, well-adjusted brother!”

She smiled a polite smile, and Azriel blandly stretched his lips in a fake smile, wanting to punch Cassian in the bollocks.

Unbelievable that Cassian was starting to flirt with her within two minutes of being in her presence! Unbelievable or predictable?

Anyway, this was going terrible and he just wanted to get out of here.

“Would you like some tea, gentlemen?” she offered.

“Would love some,” Cassian agreed immediately, and Azriel clenched his fist until his nails dug into his fist painfully. Now they were having tea! They’d never fucking get out of this bizarre place in the middle of fucking Holborn or wherever the fuck they were. 

“You seem tense, Mr. Night,” she said quietly, and he was surprised to find her in front of him, her big brown eyes kind and understanding. “Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

Easier said than done, but Azriel followed her advice and plummeted into a comfortable armchair in front of a large, clean desk. Cassian sat in an identical chair next to him. Piglet the pug eased himself between them and sat down on the plush carpet, looking up at his new guests with interest. Cassian immediately attempted to play with the dog, extending his hand and asking to ‘give paw’, which Piglet did. 

The girl, whose name Azriel still didn’t know, returned with a tray laden with tea service. Actual tea pot and nice cups and saucers, platters with biscuits and pastries. She poured them tea, handed them the cups and only then did she sit down behind her impressive, polished walnut desk. 

“I am Elain Archeron,” she introduced herself at last.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Archeron,” Cassian grinned, and Azriel nodded. The rain behind the window was getting worse, and Azriel felt that he was here for the long run. “This is a very nice office,” Cassian continued to pile on the compliments. “Business must be going well for you, to be able to afford a place like this. You do come very highly recommended and your services are highly regarded.”

She drummed a manicured finger on the desk and explained, “I inherited the building. The house is mine, and I use this carriage house for my office. My great-great-grandmother, also named Elain, was the lover of the Duke of Velaris,”

At that, Cassian gave her a salacious look, and Azriel sipped his tea in bland silence. It was good. Strong. And of course there is some high society sex story that was going to be attached to this girl–it was a given. She seemed like the type. Lovers, dukes, mistresses, inheritances, estates…Fucking ‘Downton Abbey’ is where he now was. A nightmare.

Elain continued, “She was very active in the suffragette movement at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, and was good friends with Emmeline Pankhurst, who lived just down the road, in what is now the Fitzroy.”

Azriel’s brain was working slowly, because he was now warm and sleepy, but he recalled something about all of this from class–the name Emmeline Pankhurst sounded familiar. She was one of the first feminist ladies, if he recalled correctly. 

“The Duke of Velaris gifted the house, this house, to my gran, so that the women could hold their meetings here. It’s been passed down the line, to the females of our family. I am the lucky one who inherited it this time around…This carriage house is quite convenient to house my business,”

“So you are a Duchess?” Azriel interrupted. 

She smiled and said, “Well, not exactly, but enough about me.”

“I told you she was posh,” Azriel glanced at Cassian, nodding in her direction. 

She ignored the comment and asked at last, “So, what brings you to Marigold? And who is in need of my services?”

“My brother here,” Cassian offered easily, “is in need of a wife.”

She exhaled and murmured, “well then”, and clicked her laptop, reading whatever was on the screen. Azriel fumed silently.

“I am assuming you are Azriel?” she asked, without taking her eyes off the screen. 

“I am,” he managed. 

“It says you are a footballer?”

“I am,” he confirmed reluctantly. Usually, his profession was a flex. He played for Arsenal, been a professional footballer since he was 17, and was currently the team’s captain. But somehow, right now, it didn’t seem as impressive as it usually did. Not when he was sitting in front of a damn Duchess!

Was she really a Duchess? Did Granny Elain only shagged the Duke, or did they have children? Because if Granny Elain looked like this Elain, it was no wonder that the Duke dipped his wick into that honey pot. 

“Are these monosyllabic answers how you court the ladies?” Elain asked, a note of tartness on her tongue.

Azriel’s eyes flared and he stared at her. The cheek on her!

“Pardon?” 

She shrugged innocently and continued looking at the screen, reading.

“I am just wondering why you would need my services, Mr. Night? You are a successful sportsman, and a footballer no less, and I assume that you are financially stable. Unless you have a gambling problem of some kind?”

“I don’t have a gambling problem!”

“Well, then, since you are an athlete, I am guessing it’s not drugs or drink. So, what is it then? Personality or sexual dysfunction?”

At that, she looked up and stared straight at him.

Azriel’s eyes bugged out. To be fair, so did Cassian’s.

“Excuse me?!” Azriel thundered. “Who the hell are you to imply that I can’t get my dick hard? Are you even married yourself? And where do you get off treating your potential clients like this? Let’s go, Cassian. I am not sitting here, listening to this shite!”

Elain remain unflappable all through his tirade, and watched him attempt to get up from the armchair, splashing hot tea over his shirt in the process. He cursed, the tea cup clanging and wobbling precariously in his hands.

“Are you very well done?” Elain then asked dryly, rising up and leaving the office.

Cassian sighed deeply and unhappily.

“Well, that went well,” he groaned.

“She was taking the piss!” Azriel retorted angrily, though he was feeling kind of foolish now. He couldn’t believe that he lost his temper like that. He wasn’t even a temperamental man, but somehow, this stuck-up little floozy with her pearls and her judgemental tone set his teeth on edge. “I bet she isn’t even married herself! Who’d marry a cow like that? A bloke would have to be suicidal…She’d nag him to death…”

Suddenly, from behind them, Elain voice said calmly, 

“Glad to know that it’s not sexual issues, but just your horrible personality.”

Azriel felt his face flush. He’d assumed that she stormed out and left them to see themselves out, but apparently, she heard everything that he said to Cassian. He called her a ‘cow’. Shit.

She handed him a hand towel to blot out the tea from his shirt and then went back to her desk.

Piglet was growling angrily at Azriel, back to stand on his three legs, his crooked sharp little teeth bared and ready to sink into any part of Azriel in defence of Elain.

“Piglet, it’s okay,” Elain said softly, while Cassian attempted to pet him and almost lost a finger in the process, when Piglet snapped at him viciously.

“My apologies, Ms. Archeron,” Cassian muttered. “This didn’t go as planned. We won’t be wasting any more of your time and will be on our way.”

She sighed and waved her hand at him,

“I apologise for my shortness. But, you must understand, I also don't want to waste anyone’s time. Not yours, gentlemen, not my own. If Mr. Night isn’t interested in my services, then I understand and we won’t proceed any further.”

“No,” Cassian interrupted. “He is interested. Believe me. He is,” and he threw a murderous look in Azriel’s direction. 

Elain pursed her lips and said, “I find it hard to believe. But if you wish, let’s discuss your situation. I feel like there is more to the story that I am not understanding.”

She was now talking directly to Cassian, pretty much ignoring Azriel altogether, and that made his hackles rise. However, he didn’t feel that it was prudent to continue arguing with her. Let Cassian handle this however he wanted.

Elain refilled Azriel’s cup and handed it back to him. He was surprised at that. The biscuits looked good too, so he picked one up from the tray and bit into it. It was divine. Buttery, crispy, meltingly tender inside. He’d never eaten a biscuit like this before. 

“This is incredible,” he couldn't stop himself from complimenting it.

A small smile touched Elain’s lips and she said, “Well, thank you, Mr. Night. I baked them myself.”

“You bake too?” he blurted out stupidly.

“I do. It was my first passion. That and flowers.”

“Of course,” he snorted. “Don’t worry, Miss, I didn’t think it would’ve been cage fighting. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are an escapee from the 50s,”

Sarcastically, she retorted, “no, how could I possibly take that the wrong way? Forgive me, sir, if I am well-mannered, and decorous, and like genuine relationships between people, which aren’t based on Instagram likes and follows.”

“I am a little surprised that you know what Instagram is,” Azriel added. “Seeing as you use words such as ‘decorous’...”

“Aright, okay,” Cassian clapped his huge hands together and rubbed them together. “That’s enough. Let’s move on, shall we?”

Elain sighed dramatically and said, “Fine. Tell me then why Mr. Night is in need of a wife then?”

“Gladly,” Cassian cried with fake excitement. “Azriel and I grew up in a…challenging environment,”

Elain didn’t say anything, but Azriel could see that that did not surprise her. 

“Our family situation wasn’t the best,” Cassian continued, “until we were adopted by our distant uncle. You might have heard of him, considering your background–Lord Darling, the construction magnate.”

She nodded, “I am familiar with Lord Darling. He has a son–Rhysand, I believe. You three are related then?”

“We are. Rhys is our cousin. We were adopted when we were teens, Azriel was almost fifteen, I was about thirteen. Az was already showing a lot of promise on the field, his talent raw and genuine,”

Azriel died inwardly from the praise. He was never comfortable with it, even when it was deserved.

“Signed at seventeen to Manchester City,” Elain said casually, like a spy recalling a dossier. “Then, at twenty-three, sold to Arsenal and has been there ever since. Captain for the past three years, if I am not mistaken?”

Cassian just stared at her, as did Azriel, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“He is a forward and his number is 14. Last year, he scored 34 goals, tied only with Haaland. Height–6”5, very tall for a footballer, and weight is 188 lbs.," with that, Elain leaned back, and looked at both of them. 

“I wouldn’t have taken you as a football aficionado,” Cassian confessed after a long pause.

“I am not,” Elain said easily. “And I wouldn’t expect you to. I am an escapee from the 1950s, after all.”

Azriel pushed his tongue into his cheek, but didn’t rise to the taunt.

He wasn’t sure why, but it felt weirdly satisfying to hear her rattle off his stats. To say that he was shocked was an understatement, but also, secretly pleased. Fuck yeah he was as good as Haaland! And Haaland was 5 years younger than him. So there was that.

“As our American cousins would say,” Elain threw a biscuit to Piglet, who lunged at it voraciously, “this isn’t my first rodeo, Cassian.”

Oh, so now Cassian was Cassian. But Azriel was still Mr. Night.

That was fine. It’s not like Azriel cared.

“And that means that I do my research. Very thoroughly,” Elain assured them. “Before I take on any client, be it male or female, I need to know what and who they are. Do I scour news outlets? Social media? Gossip sites? Oh, you bet I do. And then there is a full criminal background check as well once someone becomes a client. 

“Mr. Night is acceptable,”

“Oh, well! Thank goodness for that,” Azriel exclaimed sarcastically.

“There is no need for that, Mr. Night,” Elain stopped him, “your notoriety is known, but it’s at an acceptable level. No long term relationships, no sexual assaults, but penchant for…” she cleared her throat, but ploughed forth, “orgies and group sex. Attempts at discretion, but not always successful.”

Shit, well this was embarrassing.

Azriel wasn’t sure why he should feel embarrassed at all? He was a single man in the prime of his life, but when it came from the lips of this lovely doll-like creature who was draped in pearls, his sexual history sounded…seedy. 

She didn’t pause, but continued, “only one arrest. When Mr. Night was 18–for destruction of property,”

“He spray painted a wall,” Cassian interjected.

Azriel just loved sitting here and being discussed like he wasn’t present.

“Ahh, an artist as well?” Elain commented.

Gah. She really was the most annoying woman he’d ever met. Annoying and condescending and impossible. 

“So, a famous, successful footballer from the Premier League who enjoys orgies and hasn’t had a girlfriend…ever, wants to find a wife? That’s quite a leap. Please explain.”

“Lord Darling is a very wealthy man,” Cassian said, “and he’s been kind to treat us well, even though we aren’t his sons. We are in his will, and it’s not been kept secret from anyone. The will stipulates one condition for all of us: Rhys, Az and myself. In order to receive the inheritance, we have to be married by the age of 30. If we are not, the inheritance is null and void and we receive nothing. Azriel is the eldest–he will be turning 30 in March. I have another year and a half to go and Rhys is the youngest at 26.”

“Aren’t you wealthy in your own right?” Elain challenged, looking directly at Azriel.

“I am,” he said.

Muscling in, Cassian piped in, “You don’t understand, Ms. Archeron. The inheritance is very large,”

Seeing her expression, Cassian added,

“It’s 230 million. Each. It’s a lot of money to just let go.”

It finally dawned on her and she nodded with understanding. 

“It is a rather large sum,” she agreed with an exhale.

“It is,” Cassian nodded, swallowing two biscuits at once. “These are good!” he mumbled, before saying, “and since it is such a huge amount, and this is a serious, lifelong decision, we all got to be thoughtful about it. Can’t leave this to chance anymore. As you’d mentioned, Az doesn’t have a steady girlfriend, so anyone new has to be vetted. We can’t have some slag from “Love Island’ latching on to him.”

Elain’s eyes popped at the word ‘slag’ being casually thrown into the conversation, but she stopped herself from commenting. 

“Also, Az will be moving on sooner rather than later.”

“Not too soon,” Azriel argued, but Cassian ignored him.

“Coaching or broadcasting,” Cassian continued. “Within 3-5 years, Az will retire from playing, but will probably move on to coaching once he passes all his coaching courses and certification. He’ll have a reputation to uphold–he’ll have to be respectable. Married, with children,”

“God Cass, you make it sound like I am being sentenced to life of hard labour,” Azriel moaned.

Elain chuckled. 

“Well, at least now it makes sense.”

Elain got up and went to the window behind her desk. 

Rain lashed violently against the glass, but it was nice here–at least Azriel liked it. The girl was still kind of a bitch, but she smelled nice, of jasmine, with an undertone of honey, and she baked and she was pretty. And her arse was fine, even hidden behind her pleated skirt. All of her was fine, except for her personality and her sharp tongue.

“Mr. Night,” she said quietly, without turning from the window. Azriel knew that she was addressing him, because Cassian busied himself with fixing Piglet’s bow.

“Please confirm that you are the kind of man who’ll accept a woman with high energy and high ambitions,” Elain asked. 

“What?”

“The women that contact me–that’s what they are. They are busy with professional lives, they are usually very well financially off, they are confident and independent. Most either don't have time to look for a partner on their own or want to meet someone who’s been screened and who matches their needs and asks. 

“But I must inquire again–is that the type of woman you desire? Someone who would stand up for herself, and someone who might not give up her own career for yours? Someone who might be complicated, if you know what I mean. Educated, serious, elegant, demanding. Not someone who’d roll over for you or inflate her lips or bleach her hair.”

“I don’t really want anyone with bleached hair,”

“Well that’s good isn’t it? Because I’d present you with matches who will challenge and entice you. But you need to tell me that that’s something you are comfortable with and that’s something you want?”

“He wants it,” Cassian shot immediately, playing with Piglet and cooing at him, muttering ‘you are a pretty boy, aren’t you? Yes you are. Yes you are…”

Elain raised her hand and turned to face them.

“I must insist that Mr. Night answer this question, Cassian. This is the rest of his life we are talking about. I understand that you have his best interests at heart, but that’s not enough. Mr. Night must decide for himself.”

Azriel crossed his arms on his chest and chewed his lips, thinking.

He liked her straightforward manner. Her insistence. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say that she was describing herself in these women that she’d be setting him up with. Only it wasn’t the case–Elain was delicate and classic. She was a matchmaker, for god’s sake, not some boardroom lioness. She had a pug who wore a satin bow. But she was dogged, and confident, and he didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind her self-assuredness at all. Other things…he kind of minded. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said at last. 

Elain cocked her brow at him, her expression a mixture of disdain and disbelief. 

“Well, ‘yeah, okay’ doesn’t exactly fill me with excitement, but I suppose we’ll go with that,” she concluded at last. 

Cassian chuckled. 

She clicked something on her laptop, and Azriel heard the sound of a printer. 

“This is the contract, gentlemen,” she told them, as she gathered a hefty bundle of pages and stuffed them into a folder. “Take a look at it and if you are going to pursue my services, I’d like for you to return it to me, signed, by tomorrow. Say one o’clock?”

Cassian snatched the folder and nodded, “Yes, we will.”

“I apologise for how quickly we are moving here, but we are under a tight timeline, it seems,” she reminded them. 

Suddenly losing his usual indifferent bravado, Azriel asked, his voice quiet,

“And what happens after? If we sign it,”

“You sign it,” Elain ordered brusquely. 

“Fine. I sign it. What happens after that?”

“We sit down, discuss your mating criteria, and take it from there,”

“I am sorry, what? What is a ‘mating criteria’?” 

“Basically, your requirements for your future mate. Blonde or brunette? Tall or short? Level of education? Hobbies? Interests? All of it.”

“Mating criteria is the least sexy term I’ve ever heard,” Azriel complained. 

“Well, I am sorry, Mr. Night–I'll leave the ‘sexy’ part to you. My job is to find you the woman for all your sexy needs and then some.”

Azriel got up, followed by Cassian.

“I mean, you can just marry me,” Azriel suddenly blurted.

Both Elain and Cassian paused and stared at him with evident shock on their faces.

“I am sorry?” 

Backtracking frantically, he tried to make light of it, internally berating himself and wondering what the hell possessed him to say something so stupid. He’d rather rip his nuts off than be married to her!

“I mean, it would save both of us some time. And in a year, we could be divorced. No harm, no foul. And I won’t even request any conjugal satisfactions from you,”

“Okay, okay,” Cassian muttered, grabbing Azriel’s upper arm and squeezing it until he stopped the blood flow. “I think we’ve said enough. We’ll see you later, Ms. Archeron,”

She, meanwhile, was fuming, her hands on her hips, as she snarled,

“You wouldn’t request conjugal satisfactions? You? Who said I’d ever even let you near me!?”

“I am sure he was just joking,” Cassian murmured through clenched teeth. “Nerves, you know. Nerves. Forgive him, Miss Elain. No conjugal anything between the two of you, of course. Hahaha. That’s funny. Let’s go. Let’s. Go.”

He half dragged Azriel alongside him.

“Consider it!” Azriel called out.

“No. Fucking. Thank. You.” She yelled after them.

“Shit, you said ‘fucking’!” Azriel grinned. “Miss Perfect is not so perfect after all.”

** credit to @deathsweetblossoms for suggesting the title for the story!

[dragonrider9905]

What Tooka You So Long?

Happy birthday @imabeautifulbutterfly!!! I hope it is filled with many blessings and much happiness! It’s been so wonderful chatting with you and reading your stories. I’ve been a fan for so long ;D I hope you accept and like this little gift I have for you :) ❤️🤗

Also @clonexreaderbingo this fits for my square “alone”!

Bending over flimsi for long periods of time is not advisable. Fox would know this.

Not just from the bothersome brothers who are medics, like Kix, telling him to stop and take care of himself, but also from experience. Currently, he’s been bent over the same piece of flimsi for three hours alone. How long he’d been sitting there for the entire stack on his desk….he didn’t know. From the tension and ache in his back and shoulders, he had a pretty good idea.

….he hated to think about how long he’d been sitting there for all the paperwork he ever did….

…And how much more would he have to do for the rest of his life?!…..

Suddenly, a tooka jumped him from out of nowhere!

Breaking not only his musings but…

Spilling his precious, delicious, delectable piece of crap, no excuse for good quality, absolute awful caff all over his desk….and flimsi.

Fox’s heart sank. It was due tomorrow…

With a heavy sigh he stood up, bones popping and muscles protesting.

Ah great.

There was a krink in his neck too.

Now his paperwork was all messed up AND he was sore. He quickly cleaned up the mess with some rags he had around the office. He’d forgotten why they were there but he used them anyway. If he didn’t remember, then it wasn’t important.

With another sigh, he looked down at the little, adorable intruder currently purring against him. Secretly, Fox had a soft spot for these incredibly cute, fuzzy creatures, (he didn’t let it out lest he’d never hear the end of it) but not today.

Scooping up the tiny culprit, Fox headed out the door with his third sigh that minute. In one hand, he held the empty mug, in the other, the tiny fur ball increasingly becoming attached to him, not only purring but wrapping its tiny paws contently around his arm and hand.

He didn’t know where the little guy came from…it isn’t like they were allowed in the building or were easily let in. Someone must have smuggled him in.

“Whatcha got there, hey Commander?” Hound teased.

Fox’s unamused scowl would have been enough for most, but not his brothers. “Not caff, that’s what.”

Fox trotted on past the sound of Hound laughing behind him.

He growled and hefted the animal to a more comfortable position in the crook of his arm. He made his way through the halls, to where he didn’t know. He supposed he was just going to let it outside when he heard a woman call out. He saw your face light up at the sight of him holding the kitten and ran towards him.

“Ohhhhh, you found her! Thank you! I’m so sorry if she bothered you or got in your way!”

You took her from his arms, holding her up to look her in the face with an angry pout.

“Naughty girl, Zula. No running off.”

Fox tilted his head. He knew you; you were the psychiatrist for the Coruscant Guard. He liked you because you always treated them all like people and not headcases. It also didn’t hurt that he found you rather pleasing to look at. Which was a secret he kept next to his love for tookas. He’d been wanting to meet you for some time. He never had time to make his appointments with you but that freed up time for his other brothers to go. He didn’t have the guts to go up to you in person so deep down, the curse of this morning was secretly turning out to be a blessing. He liked Zula a lot better now than five minutes ago.

Now he just had to figure out what to say…

You looked up at the clone blinking blankly at you. He hadn’t said a word yet. You knew about the stoic Commander—you’d heard lots of stories about him but never met him in person yet. He refused to show up to his appointments with you. You didn’t know if it was an insecurity of his to talk about his problems or if he had a problem with you specifically. Either way, this was the first time you were ever encountering him.

“I’m so sorry. She helps my patients relax, but she’s not totally trained yet and this is the second time she’s snuck out. It only takes her one second.” You sighed. “Let me please get you something for your troubles…”

You noticed the empty caff mug, realizing what probably happened. “Oh no, let me get you a refill…I hope she didn’t ruin anything.”

“No problem ma’am. There is no need. Glad to be of assistance.”

Fox tilted his head but kept his stoic face plastered in stone.

“I can get you a refill real quick! I have my own machine…”

“It is alright. I, uh, don’t need any more for today. Don’t let her get away again though. But if she does, let me know and I’ll track her down for you.”

He inwardly cringed at how demanding he sounded, the slight growl he worked to perfection coming forward. Instead of being taken aback, you smiled, charmed.

“Sure thing, Commander. Thank you. And thank you for your offer. It was great to finally meet you. I hope I’ll be seeing you around?”

“Definitely, ma’am.” Fox titled his head respectfully again. “Have a good day.”

With that, Fox headed back to his office.

“You too, Commander! If you change your mind about the caff, I have a whole bunch, more than what is good for me so feel free to stop in!” You called after him cheerily.

Fox half turned to grace you with a small smile before turning away so you wouldn’t see him turning as red as his armor. There was no way you meant that to be friendly…probably one of your mind tricks to get him to show up for an appointment…but would that really be so bad? Fox ran over the encounter in his head again. It was so brief but his head was whirling.

If she does, let me know and I’ll track her down for you?! Really, Fox? Couldn’t think of anything better? That was real smooth…not.

He scolded himself. He knew you worked in separate worlds, but he hoped your paths would cross again, not in a professional setting that is. He found himself elated in the fact his grumpy exterior didn’t scare you away. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Kriff, why leave it to fate? Why not just set it up himself? He could do that. He was Commander for goodness sakes! And by setting it up himself, he didn’t mean to become your patient. There were other ways.

Double kriff! He didn’t ask you for your comm number!

Ugh, today was not his day.

But the tooka did wander into his room before…perhaps it would again?

Fox left the door open, hoping the mischievous tooka would find its way back to him.

— — —

Quinlan Vos’s debriefings had got to be one of the most interesting ways to debrief a debriefing. Fox rubbed his temples and headed back to his office. He liked the jedi. He was efficient and got the job done…but sometimes he was just…so….much. Goodness gracious he was glad to have him on his side but serving with him on the next mission would be…interesting. If the last mission was anything to go by, the next pile of flimsi was going to be six inches high again.

Fox might as well say goodbye to sleep for the next week right now.

He quickly shut the door behind him and leaned against it.

Fox took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back. He never allowed himself many breaks, but this would be an exception. He needed a moment.

Rubbing his eyes, a pleasant smell wafted into his space. One that he knew well. Man, Fox must be tired because he swore the scent of caf invaded his nostrils. He never refilled his caf, and if he did, it would be cold by now…no, this was warm and steaming and waaaay more rich than the swill he was used to.

Slowly, as if in a dream, he walked toward his desk, and sure enough in the center was a steaming mug of his favorite beverage. The container was unfamiliar to him so he stared at it blankly for two whole minutes wondering who left their caf on his desk. What they wanted and why they didn’t wait for him to come back or perhaps how they got in in the first place. His office was secured…

Then he noticed the little scribbled note beside it.

It was for him!

Enjoy on me! I know you said it wasn’t necessary but I wanted to do something for you. Sorry about the spill. Hope you like it! Thanks for being a hero. Zula is such a troublemaker; she needs rescuing every once and a while and I’m grateful to know that when she goes missing, I can rely on you.

The writing was yours. Of course he’d know your script anywhere—you wouldn’t have needed to sign it but he loved that you did.

Perhaps today wasn’t a total failure then. Unbeknownst to him, a small smile crept up the corners of his lips and stayed there for the rest of his shift.

— — —

A few days later, little Zula did indeed find her way back to Fox’s office. The tooka’s visits became sporadic and he worried the troublemaker would find a new favorite place. So, he started leaving little treats to lure the creature back to his office consistently just so he could return her to you. His plan worked rather well. Every day at noon, Zula would slip out of your office and find him. It was perfect because you both had lunch at noon, and not only would you not be interrupted but Fox could spare a full fifteen minutes to talk to you if he wanted. You would offer him caff most of the time, and it was heavenly. He tried not to accept it all the time so he wasn’t taking advantage of your generosity (let’s not discuss the flow chart he kept in his office of the days he accepted and didn’t just to be sure). You always smiled brightly handing him the cup, and Fox never ceased at the joy you received from giving.

He just wondered how long it would be until you’d tire of it…

— — —

Of course, you were well aware that was what he was doing. At first it was a pleasant surprise, but when you noticed a pattern of not only Fox showing up every day with your pet, but that she was leaving at the same time everyday….mouth slightly wet with saliva or covered with crumbs…..you knew. And you weren’t complaining.

You just played along with it for as long as you could. You figured you could only play dumb so long. Then again, he probably knew you were playing. Man was an investigator! Why he continued the little charade, you didn’t know. But you were fond of your guess and didn’t want to let it go. As long as there was no definitive answer, you could dream away.

You knew it wasn’t advisable; games of the heart weren’t safe to play.

But here you were. Looking forward to every visit he paid you and hoping it wouldn’t be the last. You actually got him to laugh last time. Actually laugh! You’d gotten him to chuckle on a regular basis, which you delighted in, but something rang different seeing the stoic man break down, holding his gut while tears fell from his eyes as his voice echoed in joyous waves. To be honest, you can’t even remember what you said, but you’d never forget that moment.

You stirred your caf dreamily, eyes far off and smile bright. You didn’t even notice Fox approach you.

“Hello? Tooka got your tongue?”

You looked up sharply to find Fox in front of you yet again, holding your ‘runaway’ pet. You smiled.

“Oh no, I was just thinking. Hello Commander Fox.”

Fox was glad he was wearing his helmet. The only other thing that made him blush more than his full title was when you just said his name. It felt so personal…he felt seen.

Here comes that unfamiliar feeling again. The only one he got when he was around you.

“What brings you here today? Other than the naughty girl,” you side eyed the playful creature purring against the red armor happily, “did you have any more crazy missions to report? One of the other legions playing pranks against the Guard today?” you chuckled.

“No…not today,” Fox chuckled back shyly, “there was actually something else,” he coughed, “something else I wanted to tell you…ask you!” he quickly corrected.

Grinning to the side stupidly, you encouraged him on, “Alright, go ahead.”

He let out a breath and swung his arms. “Okay.”

Seeing Fox so nervous was just too cute. You tried not to laugh and mess him up but your giddiness inside was trying desperately to make its way past your smile.

“OOOOkkkaaayy. Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeated, biting your lip. “Right.”

“No,” he looked down with a breathy laugh, “not that…”

“Then what is it?”

“I just…really need to tell you. I like you. A lot. Would you consider going out with me?”

You chuckled. “You have no idea how long I’ve ‘considered’ it. Yes!!!! What took you so long to ask?”

Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in Fox’s chest. He didn’t know quite what it was, but that was one investigation he was looking forward to. Deep inside, something broke.

It wasn’t something he needed anyway.

It was only the feeling he was meant to be alone.

Replaced with a feeling of belonging and love.

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Hi there! I don’t know if you write poly Sinclair or not but if you do could I get a poly Sinclair x reader (female or gender neutral is fine) where the reader gets really mad at someone for not understanding what they want despite how many times they explain and so the boys comfort her/them and calm them down?

I’m getting really frustrated with my counselor for basically ignoring what I’m saying to the point where I want to scream and cry and I just really need some x reader comfort right now lol, but no pressure of course! Sorry if this is over stepping anything! Have a lovely day/night!

pairing: poly!sinclair x gn!reader

summary: when you get back from a difficult counsellor appointment, the sinclairs try to offer you some comfort

warnings: minor injury detail, blood

a/n: this isn't overstepping at all, i'm happy to write this for you! thank you so much for requesting, sorry it took a while, and i hope you enjoy! <3

also, sorry to hear your counsellor's being so difficult, i know the feeling when people don't listen to you. if you ever need to talk, my dms are always open :)

word count: 905

You were so frustrated you felt like you were about to explode as you walked through the front door of the house, Bo lounging about on the couch, Vincent clearly elsewhere.

It didn't take Bo long to notice something was up, as he stood up from the couch, proceeding to follow you into the kitchen. "The hell's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." You muttered, getting a glass of water as Bo stood beside you, leaning against the counter.

You'd just come back from a counselling session, and they hadn't listened to a word you'd said. You might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

"Well I think we both know that's bullshit, sweetheart." Bo argued, watching you as you leaned over the sink. "So what's the matter with you?"

"It doesn't matter."

Before Bo could say anything else, the front door swung open, Lester walking in with Jonesy happily circling his feet.

He was covered in dirt and smelled like wet dog as he walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. He didn't even register you and Bo at first, as he sat down at the table with a bottle of orange juice, gulping it down like his life depended on it.

But once he finally acknowledged you both, he became mildly concerned by the agitated look on Bo's face. "You alright, (y/n)?"

"Fine." You answered, turning from the sink, only to crash into Vincent, the glass in your hand falling to the floor.

And that was the final straw, the thing to completely shatter the wall you had put up.

Tears burned your eyes as you bent down to start picking up the broken glass, and you wanted to scream, you wanted to yell at everyone in the room right now.

But all you could do was try desperately to hold back tears as you focused on picking up the glass.

Vincent was soon kneeling in front of you, attempting to help with the cleanup, but if you were being honest, you just wanted to be left alone right now.

All your frustration was bubbling up inside of you now, and you were worried you'd end up taking it out on the brothers, which would've been awful considering they'd done nothing wrong.

You picked up another piece of glass, adding it to the small pile you were creating in the palm of your hand, desperately trying to block everybody out as you did.

But the second Bo's hands came over yours, you were unable to keep yourself calm, turning and shoving him away from you, forgetting about the broken glass that was now enclosed in your fist.

You winced when you felt the glass pierce your skin, warm blood beginning to run across the palm of your hand.

Bo immediately spotted the blood seeping through your fingers, urging you to drop the glass as you opened your hand.

You practically stayed there in silence as Bo helped you up off the floor, instructing Vincent to go and get the first aid kit, telling Lester to clean up the mess.

"And make sure you keep the damn dog away from it. We don't want no more injuries around here." He'd added, as he guided you into the living room, sitting you down on the couch and kneeling in front of you, his hands still cradling your injured one.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" He finally asked you, concern in his eyes as he looked up at you.

Silent tears were staining your cheeks as you looked at him, all the pent up emotion finally spilling out of you.

You eventually offered him a brief explanation, to which he was surprisingly understanding.

"Alright, well let's take care of that hand and we can all relax, okay?" He told you.

You gave him a quiet nod, just as Vincent returned with the first aid kit.

He quickly looked you over, his rough hands carefully wrapped around your own as he inspected the injury. And he concluded that it wasn't serious, deciding to simply clean it up and wrap it.

Once he was finished, Bo joined you on the couch, Vincent coming to sit on the other side of you. And you were even more shocked when Bo handed you the remote, considering he never let anybody touch the remote.

A few moments passed and Lester finally arrived in the living room, carrying a slightly stained mug in his hands.

"Thought I'd make you some herbal tea." He smiled, handing you the cup. "Heard it's good for stress and stuff."

You offered him a small smile, before taking a sip of the tea. And it took everything in you not to visibly cringe from the taste. It was fucking digusting, but you still appreciated the gesture.

Lester then joined you all on the couch, his eyes never leaving you as he watched you sipping the tea.

To be completely honest, Bo and Vincent couldn't stop their gaze from wandering to you either. They all just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You meant so much to them, and despite their callous lifestyle, they couldn't bear to see you hurting.

But as you sat with them in front of the TV, a cheesy romance movie playing on the screen, you found that you were at peace. Being here, with your boys, you were home. And you wouldn't want it any other way.

[Main Masterlist]

[riality-check]

Contrary to what her felon of a husband started telling her when the honeymoon phase of their relationship ended, Rebecca Munson is not a stupid bitch.

Well, she’s definitely a bitch, but she ain’t stupid. She’s made bad choices - letting herself get pressured into a shotgun wedding at sixteen to a man five years her senior, havin’ a baby at seventeen at home because she couldn’t afford a hospital, and too many failed attempts at sobriety to count don’t look too good on paper - but she ain’t stupid.

She knew the second that the cops came to their house at two in the damn morning to pick up John that he wasn’t comin’ back. She decided then, after ten G-d awful years of living with him, that she wasn’t comin’ back either.

Her family was across state lines and didn’t much like her since the wedding. But Wayne was two towns over and said to her, over and over again, that his door was always open.

(One Fourth of July, probably when Eddie was six or so, before John realized he wasn’t going to have a little football-loving clone and still humored him by playing tag, Wayne was a few beers in and told Rebecca, point blank, that she deserved to be doing so much better.

“But he’s your brother,” she said, pointedly not looking at the can in Wayne’s hand. It was her first try at staying away from that stuff, and she lasted a full two weeks until her next fight with John.

“That’s how I know you could be doin’ better than him,” Wayne said, taking a sip of his beer. “You’re a good woman, Becca. He ain’t a good man.”

Sometimes, she wondered what her life would be like if she listened to him then, if she didn’t need an arrest warrant to convince her of what she knew, deep in her soul, the second she said “I do.”)

So, that’s where she’s standing now. In front of Wayne’s door, hand poised to knock, Eddie at her side with his headphones on and music cranked loud.

“It’s fuckin’ freezin’,” she murmurs before knocking lightly.

“It’s August, Ma,” Eddie says. Not meanly, but not nicely either. He just says it.

Rebecca almost misses when he was little and tried to warm her up by rubbing his baby palms up and down her arms. She doesn’t miss when he had to call an ambulance for her. She definitely misses when he used to call her “Mama.”

She knocks again. Waits. Tries not to shiver because Wayne will know what that means, and she can’t take pity or rage right now.

She’s fucking trying. This is her trying, this is her quitting, this is her, hopefully, staying sober. 

She doesn’t have John, shitty as he was, to fall back on anymore. Eddie needs her, all of her, so she needs to stay present.

The door opens a crack, then fully. Wayne stands there in his pajamas, sipping on a mug of coffee, looking surprised but not quite.

“John got arrested,” Rebecca says.

Eddie just nods, picks up his bag, and walks right on inside.

Wayne raises his eyebrows. “You know what for?”

“Second degree murder.”

“Jesus H. Christ.”

“And I ain’t payin’ for a lawyer for his sorry ass, so he’ll get some court-appointed schmuck, get sent to hell, and hopefully stay there,” she says brightly.

Wayne snorts and holds the door open for her.

His trailer is small, but they make it work. Eddie gets the bedroom, a notion which he puts up a losing fight to, Rebecca takes a cot they set up in the living room, and Wayne takes the couch. She offers to alternate nights with him, but he waves her off and says it’s fine, it’s comfy enough.

If Wayne liked women (Christmas, 1971, spiked eggnog heavy on the spiked all responsible for her knowing that bit of information) she should’ve married him instead.

He tells her, spotting old track marks and the tooth she lost last winter, that she better not bring any of that shit into the house.

It helps, though maybe not as much as it should. It means she has to rely more on chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking the beer Wayne likes than the variety of harder shit she’s been on and off of since she was seventeen.

Once again, fuck you John Munson.

It doesn’t quell the itch. The first few weeks at Wayne’s are hellish, between the sweats and the shaking and the dry heaving.

But all she has to do is look over at the door to Eddie’s room and remind herself that if she fucks up the same way she’s fucked up countless times throughout her boy’s life, then he has no one.

It’s just barely enough. She’s still drinking way more than she should, enough to not remember when or where she falls asleep, but it’s the longest she’s been off crank, so. Small wins.

She gets a job waitressing at the diner next door to the barber and across the street from the hardware store. It pays alright, and the farmers and miners tip her better if she leaves the first two buttons of her blouse undone.

Men.

Eddie ain’t doin’ much better. The kids at his school are mean sons of bitches, the kind that yank on his hair - he’s always liked it long, and Rebecca really doesn’t give a shit what it looks like as long as it’s clean - and slap his things out of his hands and make fun of the books he reads.

But he’s angry at the world, and he doesn’t take shit from anybody. They leave him alone soon enough, after a couple of fights Rebecca doesn’t blame him for getting into. Between the time he bit a boy’s shoulder after he punched Eddie and called him a fag, and the rumors about his music making him a Satanist - ridiculous, it’s just noise - they give him a wide berth.

He says it’s fine, but Rebecca knows. That boy thrives bein’ around people. Loneliness could kill him straight out.

It’s Wayne who keeps him alive. They fight like hell those first few weeks, the worst of it being when Eddie throws the salt shaker at him and screams about him not being his father.

There’s a new shaker, filled up to the brim, on the table the next day. She checks Eddie’s piggy bank while he’s at school and finds it, predictably, empty.

He’s a good kid. G-d knows if she was in his situation, she’d be angry, too.

Wayne tries to be involved. Tries talking about sports and hunting and other things Eddie doesn’t give a rat’s ass about. When Eddie goes on about the books he reads and the games he plays, Wayne’s face just goes blank.

In the end, it’s the music that does it. Rebecca spends weeks smoking and drinking and walking on eggshells only to find Wayne and Eddie on the couch, hunched over an acoustic guitar and listening to Johnny Cash.

She breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s better after that. There are fewer fights. The trailer is filled with music more often than not. Eddie makes friends.

And, after about a year and a half, Rebecca starts lookin’ to leave.

She’d love to stay here, but she can’t. Wayne was kind enough to take her in, but there ain’t no way in hell she and Eddie can stay forever. It’s time for them to get their own place, to get out of Wayne’s hair, to make a real, permanent life somewhere.

She looks around town, but there aren’t many places to rent, and the ones that can be rented are too expensive for her.

Eddie has been begging for her to let him go get a job, but she keeps putting her foot down. He didn’t get to be a kid when he was one, not with him always taking care of her and taking care to stay out of his father’s way, so he gets to be one now.

She owes him that much and more. So much more.

After a few months, she finds it. It’s a little ad in the paper, so small she almost missed it.

Honey Haven. Five miles outside Hawkins, Indiana. A newly planned, family-friendly community. All are welcome!

The number next to “prices as low as” catches her attention. She dials the phone number, and the sweetest lady picks up, patiently answering all her questions.

It sounds too good to be true. Rebecca tells the lady as much, and she, without hesitation, offers a no strings attached visit.

So, she figures, What the hell?

Part 1, part 2

[reallyromealone]

Figure skater! Ran x chess player! Reader

⭐warnings⭐

Fluff, male reader, two dudes being cute

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Ran was exhausted.

From the plane to his manager's constant talking he was ready to pass out on his bed, the man walking through the halls to get to his hotel room.

Looking down he pulled his card out from his sweater pocket, glancing up only for a second to see an angel.

At the hotel room door beside his own stood a well dressed man in his twenties, a cool and calm expression as he glanced over to see a stunned Ran before saying "it's rude to stare" his voice was so powerful and delicate, like a lotus in a hurricane.

"My apologies... My mother always told me to admire beauty at its finest" Ran said smoothly and the other just rolled his eyes before going into his room.

Ran couldn't stop thinking about him during practice, he and his brother worked on their choreography for the upcoming tournament in a few days.

Then he saw it, a magazine one of the other skaters left behind "greatest chess player of our generation..." Ran mumbled as he stared at his angel on the cover "(name) (lastname)...."

Ran spent the rest of the day watching his matches and he was in awe at how he destroyed his opponents without batting an eye, he once ended an opponent who was supposed to be really good in 45 minutes... It was insane.

They ran into each other again, both going to the same place surprisingly.

"Pleasure to see you again" Ran said to the chess player who begrudgingly sat beside him as they waited for their appointments "it seems we have" (name) said simply while looking out the window of the tailor's shop "how was your day?" Ran asked the other "fine"

"I spent the morning doing my routine with my brother, were figure skaters"

(Name) didn't say anything so Ran continued speaking, taking about his routine and the song and everything "why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want to"

"(Name)? Heres your outfit" Mitsuya said with a kind smile to the man "thank you Mitsuya" (name) said simply before taking his items and rushing out "you know him?" Ran asked the fellow former Toman member who looked back curiously "(name)? Yeah, he's been coming here for a few years, usually to get his tournament outfits tailored better, he tends to wait till he gets here to do it" Mitsuya explained "he's a tough nut to crack, took me three years to learn he had siblings"

This just made Ran want to pursue him more.

The two sadly didn't see each other again till threw months later at one of Mitsuyas fashion shows where (name) sat a few seats away from Ran, watching the show with a passive expression seemingly unaware that Ran was constantly glancing at him.

"Trade seats with me" Ran said to his brother and Chifuyu, the two looking confused but complied at the intensity of Rans stare, looking at each other confused "we meet again~" Ran said resting his chin in his palm "unfortunate"(name) Said as he kept his focus on the models and the clothes they wore "what are your thoughts on figure skating?"

"Never thought about it"

"Well, my brother and I are set to do the winter Olympics next year for Japan"

"Ok"

Ran chatted (name) up the entire show, the poor chess player oversocialized by the end of it all.

He was walking to the entrance when Ran walked beside him "leaving so soon? There's still an after party"

"I have to go practice" (name) said simply, his cab pulling up "I have a proposition" Ran said said to the elegant chess player who looked at him with an intensity like no other.

"And what's that?" He asked with crossed arms"

"If I beat you at chess, you go out with me"

This was the first time he heard laugh, even if mocking it was still beautiful "do you like humiliation?"

"If it means a chance to take you to dinner, absolutely"

And that's how (name) and Ran ended up in a small park infront of a chess board, the two having been playing for three hours.

"And mate" (name) said for the sixth time "you are very bad at chess"

"In my defence! I only learned yesterday night on a YouTube tutorial" ran said getting a small laugh out of (name).

Every time they happened to be in the same location Ran would challenge (name) to a game, the chess player not even aware that the Eldest Haitani was using chess to get close to the other.

"So wait, he just tossed the chess board?" Ran asked incredulously as (name) nodded "yeah, and then two months later I officially beat him"

"Chess is wild" Ran said as he lost once more "once more?" Ran asked with a lopsided smirk and (name) sighed "fine"

"Why do you insist on playing chess if you keep losing" (name) asked softly and ran smiled "because I learned you started chess when you were four from your aunt who smelt weirdly of malt and peprika, you can't stand (food), you don't trust weirdly shaped trees and you want to see a desert"

(Name) looked at him wide eyed before a look of amused disbelief fell upon his face "you sly son of a bitch"

"Guilty"

"Well played Ran Haitani, well played"

"So will you go on a date with me? Or are you still having fun making me look like an idiot?"

"...fine, but I chose the place"

"Deal"