#most of what i remember of watching tv at that time was having trouble getting to the hd version of a channel

[unusedcactus]

i. just realized that i think of sd as 4:3 and hd as 16:9 instead of as 480i (or less than 720p) and 1080i (or at least 720p). because all i could notice when the transition was happening was a change in aspect ratio

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; "Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!" (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Um,” he says. “I don’t know that one, I think. What was it on?” 

Lynn shrugs. Billy thinks–well, at least Lynn told him about something he liked, so he can at least try to find it, he figures. 

It takes him a slightly embarrassing amount of time to figure out Lynn is talking about literally the “no signal” screen with all the static, but in his defense he totally forgot that was even a thing and also, like, that is definitely not a show or anything. Though also Lynn didn’t actually call it a show, and either way Lynn wouldn’t know it wasn’t a show, probably, so . . . yeah, whoops. 

Billy definitely should’ve figured that one out a couple minutes sooner, but at least he figured it out. He doesn’t get why Lynn wants to watch static, but since most dads have to sit through, like, Barney and Paw Patrol, he figures he’s getting off lucky. He hasn’t watched TV in a while, no, but he definitely remembers how much Paw Patrol sucked. 

Ugh.

Lynn definitely likes the static either way, so it doesn’t really matter as long as he’s happy, Billy figures. Or, um–well, maybe not happy, really, ‘cuz he’s not sure he’s actually seen Lynn all that happy yet, but at least, like, content? Or like . . . mostly content? 

. . . semi-content? 

Billy really, really hopes Lynn at least isn’t unhappy to have gotten stuck with him. Which–like, if he does change his mind about staying, obviously they can figure something else out for him, but Billy just . . . 

He really wants this to work out, and he really wants to take good care of Lynn, and just–like–

He really wants this to work out. He’d just–he’d feel really bad, if he couldn’t take care of Lynn right. That’s all. 

Well–no. It’s a lot more things than just that. 

The three of them eat in front of, uh, “No Signal”, and it tastes–really good, actually. Like–really good. It’s maybe that it’s been a little while since anybody cooked for him, at least kinda, but Billy feels . . . he feels sort of weird about how good it all tastes, and kind of keeps his eyes on his food for most of it. The static isn’t really something he wants to watch anyway, and he doesn’t wanna make Lynn feel like he’s getting stared at or anything. 

It’s really, really good, though. 

“This is so good, Lynn!” he says enthusiastically, beaming over at him, and Lynn–stiffens, briefly, and then stares blankly at him. Billy resists the urge to wince. Okay, uh . . . yeah. Maybe that was a little too much, or too loud or something. “Um–sorry, just–” 

“It’s fine,” Lynn says stiffly, then tenses a little and looks down at his plate. Billy kinda hates that his own kid thinks interrupting him is gonna get him in, like, trouble, but he knows that’s just because Cadmus sucks. So it’s like–it’s something Lynn’s gonna need a minute to learn, probably, but yeah. Just one more thing, he figures. 

“I really like it,” he says, scooping up another bite of the salmon and pretending to be oblivious to Lynn’s reaction to that. He thinks sometimes that’s just better to do with simple stuff, instead of making somebody feel like everybody thinks they’re messing up all the time. “I kinda thought the, um–glaze? I thought the stuff in the glaze sounded kinda weird to put together, honestly, but it’s really good.” 

“. . . it’s balanced,” Lynn says, not lifting his eyes off his plate. His shoulders relax a little bit, though, so Billy thinks he probably did the right thing. Or at least a right thing, since he guesses there’s probably more than one “right” thing to–anyway. Not really the point. 

“‘Balanced’?” he asks curiously. “Like it’s healthier, you mean? Like a balanced diet thing?” 

“Um . . . no,” Lynn says. “It’s–brown sugar is sweet. Mustard’s–sour. Tangy. So it’s not too much of one or the other.” 

“Oh!” Billy realizes in delight. “That’s so smart, Lynn! I wouldn’t’ve even thought about that.” 

“. . .you don’t need to eat,” Lynn says, glancing guardedly at him. Billy shrugs. 

“Yeah, but still,” he says. “I do, like–like to, when I can.” 

“. . . you like to eat?” Lynn asks hesitantly. Billy doesn’t let himself get weird and complicated or think too much about it and just nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. “And this tastes awesome. We should make a copy of the recipe to make again, if you and Tawky like it too.” 

Lynn stares blankly at him while Tawky nods approvingly. 

“You care if I like it,” Lynn says, less like a question and more like a weird, confusing little realization. Billy . . . well. He knows how that feels, so just smiles encouragingly at him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean, you need more food than us anyway, so actually it’s more important that you like it. Also, um, you’re my kid, so I want you to like it more than I wanna like it myself anyway.” 

“. . . why,” Lynn says, which is a question, but doesn’t really sound all that different. They should maybe do a little talking practice when he’s feeling up to it, Billy notes to himself. Like, for intonation and stuff. 

“You’re my kid,” he repeats reasonably. “Plus I already know what foods I like, and you still gotta figure out your favorites and stuff.” 

“‘Favorites’,” Lynn repeats, and then, slower–“Because I’m your kid?”

“Yeah,” Billy agrees. Lynn does not look any less blank, which–right, Lynn really doesn’t know how this stuff works. Or–how it’s supposed to, anyway. “Um, because I’m taking care of you, yeah? Like–people who are taking care of you are supposed to care what you like and what your favorites are and all.” 

Lynn looks blankly at him for another moment, then slants his eyes towards the TV. 

“Is that why you put on No Signal?” he asks.

[fluff-lover]

Healing Touch | Chapter 2: Broken Hearts

Logan Howlet x fem!Reader

Story summary: You’re a new member of the X-Men. Your mutation allows you to heal other people: you can close any wound, and cure any sickness. You’re not a fighter at all, but you’re useful at the battle field when it comes to saving injured mutants.

The one thing you can’t heal? It’s a broken heart. Sadly, that’s exactly what Logan needs: in love with a woman who doesn't love him back, and only having pieces of a broken past, Logan needs all the help he can get. He’s too stubborn to ask, but you make it your mission to be there for him.

Masterlist

Being in love with someone who is in love with someone else is hard enough, but living in the same house? That's straight up masochism.

Jean made it clear, she would never leave Scott, and Logan knew better than to try and get between them. He loved her too much to cause her trouble anyway. He wanted her to be happy. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch them carry on a happy, healthy relationship. To wake up every morning to an empty bed, knowing the woman he loved was just a few doors away, in the arms of another man… it was too much sometimes, his only comfort being at the end of a bottle. 

He knew that if he wanted to move on from Jean, he needed to leave the mansion. There was no way he would stop loving her if he kept seeing her everyday. But on the other hand he couldn’t leave, not now that he finally felt like home, not when he felt he owed his life to Charles and his cause. There were other people in his life he cared about. His Rouge, Hank, Ororo… you…

Leaving wasn’t an option.

You knew exactly what he was going through, because you felt the same way about him. 

Falling in love with Logan was easy. He was handsome, strong, brave, he was kind to you and protective of the students. He kept training you to fight and was always ready to lend a hand whenever you needed something. 

Some nights when he couldn’t fall asleep you would stay with him and you would watch tv or walk around the garden, maybe even go out for a drink. Most of the time you would sit on a bench in the garden and just enjoy the evening sky. 

At the beginning he was very quiet and getting him to open up to you took time, but eventually you reached a point where you could stay up all night talking about anything and everything, as long as it wasn’t too personal. Soon you two formed a beautiful friendship. You wanted more, but Ororo warned you about his infatuation with Jean. 

You didn’t know what hurt the most: watching him in love with someone else, or watching him get his heart broken. 

If he gave you a chance you would love him unconditionally. That is if he even let himself be loved. He was so firmly convinced he didn’t deserve love, you doubted he would fully open up to someone. Even if Jean were to leave Scott for him, would Logan stay? Would he accept her love? Jean said it herself: the good guy sticks around. 

Logan didn’t know how to love, or how to BE loved. Simple things like wrapping your arm around his as you walked together, or giving him a little gift felt like defusing a bomb. He didn’t know what to do with himself, he didn’t know how to act when he received any form of affection. It put him on edge. 

One time he mentioned he lost his lighter, so you went out and got him a new one. It was such a silly little thing, yet it threw him off completely. He stared at the lighter that rested on his big palm as if it was a foreigner object. All while you watched him awkwardly. 

“You don’t like it?” You asked nervously.

“I do.” He mumbled before clearing his throat. “Thanks.” Then he put it in his pocket and walked away, leaving you standing there confused.

Logan didn’t talk to you for three days after that. Not because he was mad at you, he just couldn’t remember the last time someone gifted him something and he didn’t know what to do. You were convinced he hated it, but you were far from right: you had no idea how much he actually appreciated it, loved it even. Every night when Logan stepped outside to a balcony to smoke a cigar, he would run his thumb across the engraving and think of you. The hopeful look in your eyes etched in his memory. You were such a sweet thing, he didn’t know why you bother spending time with him, let alone buy him a present.

You let him have his space, and by the fourth day he came by your room to ask you if you wanted a ride for your next trip to the hospital. The way your face lit up made Logan promise himself he would do better for you, that he would be a better friend because you deserved it.

And then shit hit the fan.

It was a Saturday night and most teachers were hanging out in the common area, talking and sharing snacks. You and Logan were sitting next to each other having a couple of beers and sharing a bowl of nachos, when Jean and Scott walked in, his arm wrapped around her waist.

“How was date night?” Ororo asked with a cheeky smile. Jean smiled widely and showed her hand, a beautiful ring resting on her finger.

“We’re engaged!” She announced while Scott smiled proudly. The room erupted in cheers.

“Congratulations!” “About time!” “You finally popped the question, Summers!” “You guys are so cute together!” There was no doubt Jean and Scott were the “IT” couple in the mansion. Everyone took turns to congratulate and hug the couple, yourself included. You were happy for them, you knew they loved each other very much and wished them a long, happy life together. But you also dreaded how this announcement would affect Logan.

Just as you predicted, he was hurt by it, and while everyone celebrated the couple, you saw him get up and leave the room in a hurry.

You shared a concerned look with Hank and Ororo. You knew what they were thinking: if anyone could comfort him, it was you.

When you walked out the room Logan was nowhere to be seen. The first place you checked was his room, but he either wasn’t there, or he was refusing to open the door. After pondering for a moment, you decided to check outside. 

Logan sat on a bench. Your bench. The one you two would sit together whenever he had a nightmare, when he wanted a smoke, or simply be with you.

When you found him, he had his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, and your heart broke for him. You approached him quietly, but his voice made you stop. 

“Go away.” He grumbled.

You sighed and stood there for a moment, debating whether you should leave or push your luck a little bit more.

“It’s a free country.” You finally said before sitting down next to him. Logan groaned and straightened on the bench. He knew he wasn’t getting rid of you: you were an annoyingly good friend.

Neither of you said anything for a moment. What could you possibly say? Instead you threw a leg over the bench, so you were fully facing him, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Pulling him gently towards you, you pressed his side against your chest. Logan instantly leaned on you and rested his head on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Logan.” You whispered, your cheek pressed against the back of his head. “I know what it feels like to be in love with someone who loves someone else.” You said, leaving out the part where he was the one causing you this pain.

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he was comforted like this. For the first time ever he didn’t fight it. His strong front cracked and he let himself melt against you, too tired and weary to keep fighting his feelings.

“Tell me what I can do to help.” You whispered and felt Logan shake his head against your shoulder.

“This. Just this.” He replied in a low, gravelly voice.

You sat there like this for a while in complete silence, forgotten to the rest of the world, the moon being your only witness. Your hand rubbed soothing circles on Logan’s back, and if it wasn’t because you were so worried about him you would’ve tried to soak in the feeling of him in your arms.

“You know… The one thing I wish I could heal the most is the one thing my powers can’t heal.” You pulled back and Logan straightened again, this time looking back at you. 

“What’s that?” He asked.

You placed your hand on his cheek lovingly and smiled sadly.

“A broken heart.” You whispered.

Logan closed his eyes and sighed. He knew that if there was any way you could take his pain away, you would do it. You were so selfless, always wanting to help people around you.

“You really are an angel, aren’t you? Is there any time of the day you’re not ridiculously kind?” He joked.

“I see you still have your sense of humor, that’s good.” You joked back. “You gonna be okay?”

Logan nodded his head.

“I’ll live.” He answered. “Could use a drink, tho.”

“Alright, let’s go!” You said before getting up from the bench and offering him your hand.

“Where are we going?” He asked, confused.

“To get you a drink and get me some ice cream.” You replied with a wide smile. 

Logan chuckled and shook his head.

“Let’s go get you that ice cream then, Angel.” He said as he took your hand and stood up.

[everythingisromant1c]

p2: three reasons why you can't stand co-star!james potter

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: you were finding the first days of shooting your new TV show to be absolutely amazing, aside from the fact that you absolutely could not stand your co-star James Potter. unfortunately for you, you spent enough time around him to narrow down his most irritating qualities to only three:

a/n: hey so this took waayyy longer than i would've hoped to release, but i promise this series is not going anywhere, so tysm for all the loveee and all ur guys' patience <33

also pls pls pls feel free to send in prompt requests for this series i am so all ears

full series: Trouble in Hollywood - masterlist

1. He was insufferably good at his job

You wished you could say working with James Potter was such a challenge because he was simply bad at his job. But the thing was: he wasn't. It turned out he was really the impeccably good actor that your director Minerva seemed to swear he was, as if the talent truly was seeping through his veins. Somehow, that only made working with him more frustrating to you.

"Aaron, you've got to believe me."

James had come to you during the middle of hair and makeup and asked you to rehearse lines with him even before official rehearsals for the day's shooting began, saying it would make him feel more prepared. And, as much as you hated it, you felt the same. Your only regret was thinking you'd be able to stand him and his arrogance before seven in the morning.

"Why should I, Cassidy?"

The brunette responded to you fully in character, leaning back against a nearby vanity with his long legs crossed in front of him as you sat in your cushioned chair. He apparently got out of hair and makeup in under a matter of minutes, looking effortlessly put together with his curls hanging perfectly over his forehead—you didn't have the same luck. Your lovely makeup artist Mary seemed to be unbothered by the interruptions, continuing on with your makeup as you rehearsed your lines, though you caught her amused smile every once in a while from her reflection in the mirror.

"Because..." you began, trying to stay in character as your brain scrambled for your next line.

"You're supposed to say," cut in James, "'-because we can only trust each other right now.'"

"Please stop telling me my lines, James." You repeated the irritated request you'd uttered all morning to him as you put a tired hand to the bridge of your nose, one that Mary moved away hurriedly.

"Watch your makeup," she pleaded with a powder-filled brush to your nose , and you winced apologetically.

"Did you just want me to stand here and wait for you to remember them?" James's voice poked at you irritatingly as you stared up at him from your seat.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want." You fought from rolling your eyes. "You could at least give me a second. I didn't even ask for my line."

He raised his brows with an acquiescent sigh. "Whatever the lady wants."

Ignoring him, a skill you were growing like a muscle, you cleared your throat in focus, trying not to move too much as Mary blended some product on your neck. "Because we can only trust each other right now."

James quickly jumped back into character, right on time. "That didn't mean anything to you the other night."

"I already told you I'm sorry for that. When I heard all the rumors, I ..." you cursed at yourself as your mind drew another painful, embarrassing blank.

"-I didn't know what to think." James looked anything but guilty as his voice met your ears once again, finishing your line for you without fail.

"James!" You glared at him, doing your best to stay out in your chair and not storm out of the trailer he'd so brazenly infiltrated. You shook your head to yourself through your reflection in the brightly lit mirrors . "You're impossible."

James shrugged innocently. "I don't get why you're mad at me for trying to help."

"I'm not."

He scoffed, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. "So is this what you look like when you're happy with me?" The corner of his aggravating lips lifted along with his shoulder in a small shrug, before turning away again. "Isn't very much like how I've pictured it."

You didn't miss the way Mary let out a small breath of laughter from her nose as she switched over to doting on your hair. You gritted your teeth.

"I mean, I'm not mad at you for helping. I'm mad at you because you're annoying."

He crossed his arms defensively, his lips still quirked up, and you fought against the urge within you that had your eyes following the movement of his biceps. "I'm annoying?"

The feigned disbelief in his voice snapped your back to your right mind.

"Yes," you answered plainly. "You and your posh accent."

Maybe you'd stopped making sense, but it was too early for you to care. James was watching your meltdown with what you could only identify as merriment, his unfortunately unignorable presence taking up too much space in the cramped makeup trailer.

Thankfully choosing to ignore the part about his accent, he put up his hands innocently. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who keeps forgetting their lines."

"We just got the updated script for this episode last night." You shifted in your chair to face him, and you heard Mary wince from behind you, probably getting fed up with how much you were moving around, though you were too annoyed to stop yourself. "How the hell are you already off-book?"

James shrugged smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward. You squinted your eyes at him. "An actor never reveals his secrets, love."

You twisted your mouth in disgust at his words—because you definitely felt something as he said them, whether it was disgust or not you didn't want to think about—and probably only made him more satisfied. "Mary," you groaned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She shook her head and gave your reflection a sharp look back. "Not in that freshly ironed shirt you're not."

You sighed, settling back into your chair and sparing another glance at the man to your right. He tipped his head at you, almost tauntingly, and you felt your jaw tighten. It was going to be a long day.

2. Everyone else seemed to love him

You'd been going about your Thursday innocently, filming scenes when called upon—finally having memorized all your lines properly—and somehow getting through the morning without any irritating interactions with your least favorite person on set at the moment. That good feeling, of course, could only last so long.

"What's this?"

Minerva, your director, had been walking around set with you until you both stopped at the sight of a crowd forming outside one of the sets. You followed her, making your way through the crowd of your fellow actors and crew members until you were met with a nauseating sight: James Potter.

At the sight of your director, his already proud smile grew to a beaming one, almost blinding, as he greeted her. "We've all been really busy with this week's filming schedule, Minnie, and you mentioned what a hassle it's been ordering enough food for everyone every day with our budget, so I pulled some strings and got my family's chef to cater our lunch."

Your jaw slacked as he nodded his head to his left, where a number of tables were set up with what looked like pizza ingredients, a moustached-man in a chef hat standing behind the scene proudly. You couldn't believe your eyes. Apparently, neither could the woman next to you.

"Oh my- James this is ... amazing!" Minerva—or Minnie, as James somehow had grown accustomed to calling her—turned to your co-star, expression as bright and beaming as James's crowd-pleasing smile was. "But you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble-"

"It was no trouble at all. Francis was more than happy to help."

He waved a hand at the chef, who you assumed was the 'Francis' in question, who nodded back at him happily with a pizza cutter in his hand. It was like something out of a movie, the way everyone clapped for James who stood at the front of the crowd like the beloved man he was. You felt sick to your stomach.

"What's wrong? Do you not like the pizza?"

You'd taken your lunch shamefully, making sure to hide your amazement at the endless selection of pizza toppings that James had arranged at the build-your-own-pizza station, and were sitting with Remus, who you'd met at auditions for the show and luckily got casted in a role other than one that'd gone to James, and Sirius, another one of your co-stars who you'd quickly become friends with since you spent practically all your time on set nowadays.

You looked up at Remus briefly before returning your gaze to the pizza in front of you, the perfect slice underneath the sun seeming to taunt you. "No," you grumbled. "The pizza's amazing."

Sirius chuckled. "You'd think you'd be happy about that."

"I would, aside from the fact that it was Potter who brought it in."

The black-haired man tipped his head at you curiously. "What's your problem with James again?"

You shook your head forebodingly. "Don't tell me he's brainwashed you both with his hundred-dollar pizza too."

"I doubt the pizza's that much money." Remus bit into the slice in his hand, talking through the bite. "But it is pretty delicious."

"It is," Sirius nodded. "It was pretty nice of him to cover lunch for the day. If anything, you'd think you'd like him more for this."

You groaned. "He brought in his family's private chef, for God's sake. It's not like he rescued a cat from a tree or something."

Sirius and Remus shared a look as you spoke. You knew you sounded ridiculous, but you currently lacked enough dignity to care as yet another slice of pizza sat on your plate, ready to be eaten.

"James is actually a really nice lad," reasoned Sirius. "Take it from us. We kind of grew up with him."

That fact had yet to escape you as soon as you'd met the two of them. According to the stories they'd relayed to you, Remus's mum had been an on-set tutor to James growing up when he was acting in some movie, while Sirius's parents had been producers for some of James's parents' films. Safe to say, the three of them certainly left you feeling inexperienced in the world of acting.

"James should be the least of your worries," urged Remus. "He's harmless."

"If he's so harmless, then why has he gone out of his way to be a pain in my ass since I met him?"

Sirius snorted. "We said he's harmless, not that he's not an idiot sometimes."

"But," Remus added, "whatever James has done, just know that it always comes from a good place. The man doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

You sighed inwardly. The James Potter you knew seemed to be very different from the one that everyone else seemed to be familiar with, and it was driving you crazy.

3. He was an obnoxious flirt

When you said 'flirt', you not only meant that he flirted with you—unfortunately—but that he seemed to flirt with anyone in sight, whether he realized it or not. In fact, you'd been forced to watch as he smooth-talked one of the hairstylists on set for the past ten minutes.

You couldn't hear everything they were saying, thank god, but you were sure she was probably more charmed by the fact that his last name was Potter than anything he could remotely come up with to win her over. You'd had enough conversations with him to know that the movie-star smiles he offered were enough to charm people before they realized just how insufferable he was.

After what felt like hours, he said something to the woman in parting and left her looking flushed and smiley as he strolled away. You sighed, happy to finally be rid of distractions, and looked back down at the script on your lap that you were trying to memorize but stopped almost immediately as you felt an unwelcome presence lingering from in front of you. You looked up and fought a groan.

James tipped his head at you innocently. "You wanted me?"

You tensed at his phrasing and did your best to go back to ignoring him as you focused back on your script. "I did not."

Not taking the hint, as usual, he stayed put, shoving his hands in his well-tailored pockets. "Well, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes, so I just assumed you had something to say."

"Well, you assumed wrong." You gave him a tight-lipped smile from where you sat. "And I wasn't staring. I just miraculously found it hard to concentrate on memorizing lines when you were harassing that hairstylist right next to me."

He squinted at you quizzically before shaking his head, finding your banter more amusing than you probably were. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me."

You scoffed, blinking rapidly to truly portray your disbelief. "You wish. Reality is, Potter—I think I hate you."

James peered at you with a glint in his eye like he'd never heard anything more amusing, leaning back against the wall next to you. "You think?"

You shrugged tightly. "The jury hasn't come to a decision just yet." You thought back to the unfortunately delicious pizza he'd provided, and all the things that Remus and Sirius had said to you that stood in stark contrast to practically every other experience you'd had with him.

James grinned, finding teasing you the most entertaining part of his day, even on set for a TV show. "So I still have a chance?"

His eyes glistened and you reeled. "A chance to what? Did you not hear the 'hate' part?"

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"

You shook your head. "Strong, but appropriate."

"Ouch." He touched his hand to his chest in that dramatic way he always did, something you blamed on his actor roots. "Your words hurt, you know." You rolled your eyes, truly trying then to get back to memorizing your lines so James would have nothing over you during filming the next day, but he didn't seem to care. "Look, I get it. You said you hate me. But really, I don't think you do."

You sighed, setting your script aside as you looked up at him with finality. "And why is that, Potter?"

"Because," James began, and you didn't like the tease in his tone as he looked down at you. "A little birdie told me you had some say in whether or not they cast me in South Bay. And that you actually encouraged it."

Your lips parted, those words being the last ones you expected him to say after weeks had gone by since the chemistry read. You didn't know who'd ratted you out, but whoever did would be getting a stern talking to. Or a partially stern one, since they were more than likely your boss.

You shrugged weakly at him. "That ... that doesn't mean anything."

James's thick brow lifted effortlessly. "So you're not denying it?"

At his challenging look, you relented with a drop of your shoulders. "I'm not. It's true; I told Minerva I think they should choose you to play Aaron becuase you are good at your job, James. As much as it annoys me. I mean, you're clearly a great actor, you get all your lines memorized overnight, not to mention the entire crew is in love with you for some reason-"

"Oh, I see."

You paused, looking at the way James's slight grin turned into a shit-eating one. "What?"

He tipped his head at you tauntingly. "You're jealous."

You let out a laugh harsher than you meant it to be. "Please. There's nothing about you I could possibly waste my energy being jealous over."

The brunette tutted, and you hated the feeling it sent through you. "For such a great actress, you're not a very good liar."

You felt your breathing shallow for a moment, not knowing what to do with the compliment that flowed so easily from his lips like he hadn't given it a second thought. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the insult part of his statement instead, and rolled your eyes.

"Look," James continued at your expression. "Jealous or not, we're going to have to work together on this show for God knows how many more months. Years even, if it gets renewed for a second season." The thought both filled you with excitement and dread as it came from James's lips. He looked down at you with an honest curiosity. "How much longer can you go on pretending to hate me?"

You noted that what he was saying was true, letting the words sit in your chest for a moment, but you also noted that you had more fun being petty. You tilted your chin up at him. "Funny that you think I'm pretending."

James put a hand on the table you were sitting at, leaning forward slightly and making you freeze up. "Funny that you're still not a good liar, love."

Your throat felt tight with something you wanted to again dismiss as disgust at both his proximity and the delicate word that fell from his lips. You let an unpleasant pinch form between your brows. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

James felt something warm, almost giddy, form in his chest, and it didn't matter that you looked like you were considering slapping him right then. He let the corner of his lips quirk up. "You're adorable when you're mad."

"Don't call me that either." You huffed, picking up your still un-memorized script and standing. "I'm going to my trailer."

James quirked a brow, following you with only his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"

You rolled your eyes, walking away and calling over your shoulder. "Absolutely not."

taglist:

@ilovejamespottersomuch @empath-bunny @santaasi @veysxrge @bitterspoons @ladyhestiaa @rorybear14

[thefanficmonster]

What friends are for...

Declan O'Hara x Reader (Female) [Rivals TV]

Warnings: SPOILERS for Rivals S1, Mild Infidelity, Recreational Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Best friend's dad (Reader is 21 years old), Romance, Fluff

Summary: Y/N is typically good under pressure. But with alcohol lowering her inhibitions, allowing a brewing crush to swim up to the surface, she panics a little when she needs to pull through for her friend Taggie

"Alright, doll. I've had enough watching you run around this kitchen like Cinderella. Go on and mingle with the bourgeoisie." Y/N sighs, swiftly stealing the plates Taggie was carrying with one arm while her free hand cradles a glass of whiskey.

She carries the plates over to the sink, letting Taggie's complaints play in the background as background noise as she finishes off her fourth drink of the night and sets the glass down in the sink.

"Do you see this mess?! I can't possibly let loose knowing all this work is waiting for me at the end of the party." Taggie grumbles, folding her arms over her chest, "Besides, I don't even like most of those people."

Y/N can't help but gasp dramatically at that proclamation. In all the years she's known Taggie, she's never once managed to pry out a bad criticism from her in regards to anyone. She'd have to pat spy-like attention to her best friend's facial expressions in order to gauge all those feelings she knows she'd never say out loud.

Y/N had originally formed a friendship with Patrick who was in her grade at school. However, she formed an even stronger bond with his year younger sister. It's a girls' thing, she'd tell Patrick, we're all wired to be closer to one another than we'll ever be to a man.

And her statement still rings true nearly a decade later. It's Patrick's birthday and yet Y/N is finding far greater entertainment in the kitchen with Taggie rather than mingling with the crowd of London high society. She gets more than enough interaction with them during her daily internship at the Corinium, she doesn't need her New Year's Eve poisoned by them as well.

That being said, she shares Taggie's sentiment to the full extent. But she's not about to let up on her convincing, not with Rupert Campbell-Black in attendance.

"You don't have to like them all, Tag. One sometimes makes all the difference. And that certain one of yours is in the building, no doubt looking for you amongst the crowd. Yet you're cooped up here, dodging him as if he matters to you as much as those grease-pole climbers and cheaters." Y/N playfully scolds her.

"Don't speak ill of the cheaters, they are his prime area of expertise." Taggie chuckles into the back of her hand as if shocked by the words coming out of her own mouth.

Y/N snorts, throwing a smirk her friend's way over her shoulder, "I don't remember ever saying any names and yet you knew exactly who I was implying. Hmm...." The older girl teases, only to have a dish rag tossed at her head by a blushing Taggie.

"You're in-insufferable, you know that?!" She says, glaring daggers at her best friend.

Y/N laughs heartily, stepping away from the sink. She reaches one hand behind herself, starting to unfasten the corset she has on to keep her emerald dress snug and tight while using her free hand to pinch Taggie's cheek, "And you're absolutely adorable when you're flustered, love." She uses that same hand to yank Taggie's shirt free from her jeans, "Get that off, hun. Don't worry, I'm not looking." She adds the last part with a laugh and a roll of her eyes as she continues battling with the lace fastenings of her corset.

If it were anyone else asking - or rather instructing - her to do this, Taggie would've probably protested and refused. However, if there's one thing she's learned over the nearly decade long friendship with Y/N is that, although her ideas sound like trouble, they're always a recipe for a good time. Tag wouldn't exactly say she's had an exciting life but those pockets of adventure and excitement and thrill that she can recall she owes to Y/N. And so, she complies, lifting her shirt over her head just as her friend frees herself from her corset, causing her dress to hang more loosely around her body but still catching on her curves at certain areas.

"Good, turn around for me." Y/N instructs yet again as she unclips Taggie's bra before quickly putting the corset on her, glad they didn't flash anyone in the split second the action took. Once she's finished lacing it up, Y/N's hands lazily rest on her best friend's shoulders, turning her around to see if her vision looks just as good in reality as it did in her mind. "Dashing, my darling. Take a deep breath for me, hm?"

Tag again complies without complaints, expanding her chest with a deep inhale to see if the corset needs any loosening but it is perfectly snug, still allowing her to breathe freely though. "You really think so?" The younger girl asks, a hopeful twinkle in her eyes.

"I swear on all that's dear to me, love." Y/N says, giving Tag's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "One more thing...", she mumbles, leaning in to press a kiss to each of Taggie's cheeks, leaving behind lipstick stains on her skin which she later smears to give her a natural looking blush. "Voila! Now go knock Campbell-Black off his high horse and into your bed, doll."

Using the grip she has on the girl's shoulders, Y/N practically ushers her out of the kitchen and into the sea of partygoers before retreating into the quiet solitude herself.

She enters her fairy godmother mindset as she prances around the kitchen, cleaning up the mess around the kitchen, letting the rhythm of the music carry her movements. She periodically refills a new whiskey glass she got from the cupboard. She had really intended for it to be her last drink when she set her previous glass in the sink earlier but she gave up when she saw Mr. O'Hara's whiskey collection. With all these people around, she's certain she'll get away with sneaking a couple glasses of one of the more expensive looking bottles.

"Ah, I see the kitchen mouse has gotten into the good stuff."

Y/N damn near chokes on the amber liquid she just downed when she hears the voice of none other than Declan O'Hara.

She turns around slowly like a scene from a horror movie, or rather a kid getting caught red-handed stealing from the cookie jar. Only worse, more embarrassing considering this isn't her house. Although if she were to say that out loud all three O'Hara siblings and their father would be quick to tell her off.

An array of apologies circles around her head, none sufficient enough to mend the situation - especially not when Declan is smirking at her like that from the kitchen doorway, hands in his pockets. So, instead she settles for the truth: "I was hoping you wouldn't catch me."

Declan only chuckles in response, the sound rich and sweetened by the numerous drinks he's had throughout the night. He's nowhere near drunk but he's had enough to drink to accentuate his natural charm and charisma, softening his otherwise sharp edges.

Edges nearly everyone at Corinium has been cut on since he started working there. And when I say 'nearly' I mean very few have managed to avoid Declan O'Hara's spitfire - Y/N being one of the lucky few despite typically being bad at following orders due to her stubbornness. She isn't sure what exactly it is about her best friend's father that tames that snippy, downright bratty side of her. All she knows is that when he looks at her with those warm, kind eyes and asks rather than tells her to do something, adding a little 'darling' or 'love' at the end, she folds like a house of cards in the wind.

Declan strolls in with an easiness in his step, his eyes never leaving her. As he nears her vicinity, he holds out his own glass, "Care to treat me to my own whiskey, sweetheart?"

Well would you look at that - there she goes folding again. Or more so melting into a puddle at his feet on the tiled kitchen floor.

Words have dispersed into unconnected letters in her head and all she can manage to do is nod as she picks up the whiskey bottle with a trembling hand, pouring a good amount into his glass.

"Thanks, love." He gives her a lopsided smile, lifting his glass, "To the new year."

Y/N is suddenly reminded that she is still in one piece physically - not a pathetic puddle of herself - and in turn she needs to function like a normal human being and avoid embarrassment that will keep her up at night for the upcoming century.

She schools her expression in a faux easy smile as she clinks her glass against his, "To the new year." she repeats before they both take a sip of the lovely whiskey Y/N had helped herself to.

After taking a moment of silence to revel in the pleasure of the amber liquid burning its way down his throat, Declan's eyes focus on her, giving her a head-to-toe scan before speaking, "Where'd your corset go?"

Her heart skips a beat at both the way his gaze is running over the length of her body and the question that insinuates he'd noticed her outfit to begin with. His eyes on her feel like a palpable heat, almost like the feather like touch of a hand. "I-I, um, I lent it to Taggie for a bit. I wanted to doll her up a little and force to enjoy herself. Let loose a little."

Declan nods, a small hum leaving his throat, "Well you've done a good deed, my dear. And a great job taming the kitchen into something presentable. You're a great friend, dear. I'd say you've earned your stolen whiskey." He adds the last part with a quick wink that turns her brain to pudding.

Y/N smiles in response although she wants to absolutely kick herself for involuntarily making bedroom eyes at said friend's dad. She cannot seem to morph her expression into anything other than an openly 'well I'll be damned...' look. So she opts to look away from him instead.

"Oh please, sir, it's nothing. That's what friends are for..." She instinctively takes a sip of her drink to cool down only to be rudely reminded it's whiskey and it has the complete opposite effect to the one she was hoping for.

Speaking of a friend's duties...

Just over Declan's shoulder, Y/N catches glimpse of Rupert and Taggie in the comfortable embrace of one another on the dance floor. Although, judging by the proximity of their faces, dancing isn't their priority at the moment. A split second and a millimeter is all it would take for Y/N to rejoice that her agenda had been successful.

But that's also precisely what it would take for Declan to catch sight of it and lose his everloving shit which would undeniably cause a rift in the mission.

Just to the girls' luck, the moment Rupert's lips touch Taggie's is the exact moment Declan starts turning around - or at least that's how Y/N perceives it.

And Y/N would be damned if she let him.

Before she can think better of it, the alcohol in her system takes a seat behind the wheel and all rational thinking is tossed out the window. At least that's the only way she can explain her following actions.

There isn't a single sober thought behind it when her hands firmly rest on Declan's shoulders, instantly grabbing his attention and prompting him to turn to face her once more. And in that split second, Y/N pushes up on her tippie toes, her lips colliding with his in a kiss that momentarily stuns them both.

The last bit of sobriety fights to regain control of her mind mere seconds after their lips come in contact. It's not much but it's enough to scream at her to pull the fuck away and then run the fuck away. And she would've done just that had Declan's hands not come up to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, his head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss which she instinctively - and eagerly - allows.

All thoughts - both sober and drunk - fall silent in her head. The party in its entirety falls silent around her. All she can hear is her own heartbeat in her ears, mingled with his slightly labored breathing as the kiss reaches new heights in passion and heat with each passing second until they both run out of breath - the lack of oxygen being the only thing to force them apart, not at all the notion of how wrong what they're doing is.

Again, apologies stack themselves sky-high in her brain but none reach her whiskey coated tongue. Instead, she looks up at him wide-eyed and breathless, her now lipstick-void lips parted as she blurts out the first thought that manages to slip past the fog of shock.

"Taggie's gonna kill me"

Declan's own stunned expression gives way to a wide smile as he chuckles breathlessly at her panicked statement, "What she doesn't know won't hurt her, darling."

Even in the midst of her panic and moral crisis, Y/N can't help the flutter in her heart at the petname. "You....you won't tell her, will you?"

Declan clicks his tongue, shaking his head as one of his hands comes up to cup her cheek, "Of course not, my dear. I can keep a secret. That's what friends are for, after all."

Y/N is just about to throw all hesitance to the wind and lean into him fully, reconnect their lips and give herself over to him entirely when - for better or for worse - the clicking of heels approaches the kitchen entrance, sending them on opposite sides of the room like same charges of a magnet. The poor flustered girl is left frazzled, standing on weak knees without Declan's arms to hold her up. Luckily, however, she finds herself on the side of the kitchen where the door to the backyard offers her solitude and salvation within arm's reach. And she takes it a mere second before Maud strolls into the kitchen to show her husband a fraction of the affection she's been showering the other partygoers with all night.

Regardless of the state of Declan and Maud's marriage and their relationship as a whole, what they just did is wrong from all angles and aspects. It's a betrayal to Maude, to Taggie, to Caitlin and Patrick, to Y/N's parents who Declan has known and been friends with for years.

And as such they deserve to be drowning in guilt and remorse for their actions.

One problem: they're not. Not in the slightest. Especially not Declan who cannot seem to tear his gaze away from the backdoor Y/N disappeared through even as his wife finally graces him with her attention and presence.

Attention, presence and affection Y/N would love to give to him and only him. No division or sharing, no inhibitions or reservations.

No wrong or right.

Just a little secret amongst....friends

[cinnbar-bun]

Watching Reality TV With You (Various One Piece Characters x Reader)

Characters: Zoro, Sanji, Trafalgar Law, Luffy, Perona + Mihawk, Nami, Kizaru/Borsalino, Eustass Kidd

A/n: Sorry I’m a huge fan of Real Housewives so take these silly headcanons!!!

Note: GN reader, the relationships with the character(s) and reader can be seen as platonic/romantic depending on what you prefer :) Mihawk + Perona’s relationship to each other is also not stated just for your personal preference. These are all just very silly things, don’t take this too seriously since it’s crack!

Zoro

“The hell? Why are you watching this crap? It’s not even real!”

He just sighs and grumbles about how this is dumb the whoooooole time.

Tends to sharpen his swords or try and nap while it’s on.

Until lowkey he starts peeking a bit like ‘did she just say that?’

Suddenly has opinions on it and tries to deny he’s interested but his eyes are GLUED once they start arguing and the suspenseful music is playing.

“Well, if I was her, I think I’d just kick them. Or maybe cut their car in half.”

Sanji

Opposite of Zoro. The man is probably a bigger fan than you and most likely is reading the gossip online.

It’s your weekly night hangout where he brings snacks and cozy blankets for you two to sit and enjoy while watching.

Gasps audibly and loudly.

He’s both the best and worst to talk about this with because he respects all women and he forgives them for everything, so they all get passes from him.

“Yes she may have talked badly about [name] and stole [name]’s house and maybe crashed a car. But we all do that. We need to show forgiveness. She’s having a tough time- her dress came in the wrong color.”

Law

Like Zoro, he’s very disturbed by the very prospect of reality tv.

But he’ll try. Let it be known he’s trying.

He doesn’t get interested in it but he does try to follow along so he can discuss it with you.

Not gonna lie though he’s the guy who’s focusing on their plastic surgery or illnesses.

Will literally pause the show just to examine what they may/may not have done and if the surgeon botched it up.

Imma just manifest this, he’s prolly a Terry Dubrow stan.

“Who’s your favorite Housewife so far?” “Terry.” “But… Terry isn’t-“ “It’s Terry.”

Unironically would drop a horrible quote from whichever show you’ve been watching and he’d say it so seriously that everyone’s jaw will drop and it takes him a sec for him to realize what he said.

Luffy

Imma keep this short for you- he ain’t looking.

He ain’t caring.

No thoughts.

He only cares when there’s a party and food is being served.

“Woooooah! Look at all that food!!!”

Doesn’t even recognize who is who and will just mindlessly wait for food to come on screen.

Perona + Mihawk

I’m putting this as a two for one they’re my everything <3

You and Perona are the ones who watch it lots. Perona does complain about how much they argue but she loooooves looking at the houses and clothes of the women. Makes comments about wanting to fly first class or visit the beautiful places they go to.

Mihawk is reading.

Perona is biased as hell and only defends the people that are wearing cute clothes. Otherwise? Shit list.

“Ugh! What is that dress?! It’s so hideous!” “Is that all you’re focusing on?” “I agree with (Y/n), Perona, she just had gotten into some relationship troubles with [name], so I think [name] is wrong.”

You and Perona are gasping and shocked that Mihawk 1) talked and 2) had an opinion on this???

Turns out the man had been listening the whole time (he’s quite the multitasker).

If Perona is the most biased viewer, Mihawk tries to remain objective and impartial. He's always listing out the nuances of a conversation.

“I think [name] is just jealous.” “Well, if we remember in season 4, episode 14-“

He’s a smart ass sometimes, but it’s okay, he’s our smart ass.

Perona is always enthusiastic about marathoning the shows again and watching it. She tends to do dress up requirements for watching it.

Nami

I’d hesitate to call Nami a “fan” of reality shows.

She’s aware of them, yes. Does she particularly care for it? Nah, not really.

They’re more background noise and eye candy for her.

She just likes putting them on and glancing every once in a while to gaze at the beautiful houses and trips.

“Oh that’s so expensive… imagine what you could do with all that!”

Sometimes has a fun game for herself to estimate the cost of an outfit, accessory, or house. It’s scary how accurate and detailed she can get with it.

Tends to mostly focus on fashion and get new ideas to steal- I mean, incorporate.

Doesn’t have strong opinions on the cast, but she isn’t too crazy about the louder members.

Kizaru/Borsalino

He’s heard of it, he thinks.

And, well, since you’re so into them, he’ll give it a watch.

“Oh my, these ladies are incredibly wealthy and beautiful.”

He’s not even ogling them he’s just amazed at the way they dress, behave, and/or decorate their spaces. It’s almost like being starstruck???

The guy who will pause the tv at certain scenes to point at random decorations or outfits and be like “darling, would you like that?”

He does get sad when they start to fight.

“Aw… I was just liking the party… why are they arguing now?”

His favorite cast member is your favorite one <3 he’s just a cheerleader like that, dear.

He could listen to you talk about it for hours if you wanted, and he’d be amazed by your knowledge.

“You know, if you’d like for me to have you be on a show like this, I could probably pull some strings!”

Kidd

1000000x worse than Zoro

I cannot recommend putting it on in front of him.

“The hell is this shit?! Turn it off!”

You refuse and now he’s stuck watching grown women argue over dumb things (in his mind).

Complains the ENTIIIIRRRRE time. Nonstop commenting and complaining.

Okay but he’s hooked after a bit, the drama is just too good.

But now he’s WORSE cuz he’s got OPINIONS and THEYRE ALL SHITTY!

This man is an instigator. I swear to god he’s just saying shit just to rile you up and be contrarian.

He's stanning the biggest menaces on the show.

You two will probably get into (very silly) arguments about some of the situations and people.

And unlike say, Sanji, who tries to defend a person, Eustass will just say you’re wrong and then add something unhinged to it.

“Naw you just don’t get it. If I was her, personally, I think I’d just burn their mansion down and then slash their tires.”

[captain-n-crunchies]

Miles 42 Headcannons ( We got a man yall 🤭🤭

Miles 42x Black Reader

OK first off, THIS IS A 15/16 YEAR OLD CHILD HE BROKE AS HELL

Like he not broke broke but, hell shadow box for $5 and win ts. To me I feel he got a little money saved form how his dad taught his savings, and he got a back account because remember he's like a hitman he gets paid, but he's not like rich enough to the point he buys you like Rolex watches, Catier, Dior vintage bags from the 70's spring collection.

Next, I feel like to me evry says hes like some bad boy to me i just think hes troubled but, hes a good kid. In the first movie Miles acted the same way and in the second movie he's more mature I feel like Miles-42 matured faster since his dad died; he could never play with action figures when no action was taken to save his dad

It very sad how they describe him in fics as like a drug dealer bad kid when really, I think he's just a matured yet still goofy version of Miles like imagine Hobie attitude with miles it practically the same!

Also, more on the dating side of things Miles-42 I believe would not trust his s/o til 3 months later or even more. Miles-42 is a hitman, and he may have been taught people are going to burn your bridge when they have the chance so, Miles stays clear of really revealing his inner turmoil's til he can fully trust you.

But, when Miles does open up he's like a little flower all nice and smells good yet can still have you in the bed sick and tired if tried hard enough, I feel like his emotions would turn more gentler like he wasn't neglecting you but he kind of was condescending when you show a lot of affection and until you prove your real, hell just make the relationship picture worthy and not living worthy.

But an opinion I know people would say is true is that Miles both of them cannot flirt. Remember than most likely Miles-42 dad and Miles-1160 uncle died at or around the same time which means they both experienced the same ' I almost messed up my chances with this cool girl because my uncle/dad didn't teach me how to be a smooth criminal' but to me with how he put his hand on Miles-1160 shoulder..that man had one girlfriend in the 5th grade and he's been feelin himself since then.

Now before you two started dating you have crushes, Miles didn't have many crushes to my idea. I feel like he didn't see it like he thought of kids as friends and if he did like smb it would be like quick and over with simply because he would try to be friends more.

Like imagine you tryna shoot your shot with him and he just asks you what your favorite power ranger...that what I mage would happen but he's 15/16 so instead it him saying ' cool but, not interested' like he's not rude about it but, you would feel he not messin with you,

Buttt if he does have like a real crush on you, I feel like he would try to get to know you by socials than irl, like asking Ganke can he ask for your socials and then following you and from there trying bag you by cheesy but smooth texts. He would ask about your day, what was the homework, what clubs you do ask a conversation starter but, if you feelin him hell asking about music because I feel like Miles-42 and Miles-1160 both have a music bone in them, and you know Miles-42 listens to good music (won't ever catch him listening to mf Lil Pump ass) I also feel like Miles would ask about pop culture opinions to see how you are as a person like do you watch any popular tv shows? Ohhhh your favorite is Greys Anatomy... so you have nothing to do in your time? That what hell thinks.

My last little head cannon is more of what he would do if Ms. Rio liked you, which because he respectful baddies she likes us quickly, so What would miles do if Rio likes us 🧐

First, Miles wouldn't tell but shell know simply because Miles never smiles at a text, it doesn't matter if he won $128302 million, he not smiling until he met our lovely baddie reader now, he is giggling and kicking his feet. To Ms. Rio that's not normal, it gives her a sense of his old self and she doesn't pry into his social like a helicopter parent but, she doesn't take a peek over his shoulder and when Miles does get the courage to tell her she just smiling acting like she aint know.

Miles seeing his mom like would take a big relief off his shoulders because he thought about the reddit stories where the mom is crazy and now, he thinks his momma gonna run us over with a truck and blame it on the next-door neighbor (true miles fashion)

His mom liking you also lets him know he picked the right one, mothers know best when it comes to fake people for some odd reason and if Rio didn't side-eye you when she met you then your good and he's inviting you to his house more often. I'm not going to talking about Uncle Aaron because I feel like they not as close like that but that a head cannon for a sad day.

But, at the end of the day Miles wants us bad 🤭🤭

[violettwrites]

tp!daryl — your relationship with his older brother

a/n: i fear i am world building i am so sorry 😭 but !! i have a love/hate relationship with merle and everything he does, so here’s my take on his relationship with reader.

yes i had to go scour the internet to find a photo of young(ish) merle, and this is the best i got so !

as always, if you enjoy my stuff, don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment !

my ask box is open for requests, or even if you just wanna have a chat !

➸ tp!daryl masterlist

➸ regular masterlist

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

your relationship with merle dixon was like being caught in the middle of a storm— chaotic, wild, and unpredictable. daryl, on the other hand, was your anchor. he’s your best friend, the one who grounds you when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control. he’s quiet, steady, and always there, even when words aren’t needed.

but merle, daryl’s older brother, is everything daryl isn’t— loud, abrasive, and constantly stirring up trouble. from the moment you had met him, merle had always been a thorn in your side, always teasing, always pushing your buttons. he thrives on getting under your skin, and you swear it’s become a sport for him. wether it’s his crude jokes or his constant attempts to get a rise out of you, merle has perfected the art of annoyance.

you had first met him not long after meeting daryl, only being young and a scrawny little thing. he was much older, with a cigarette between his lips, and a beer bottle in hand. at first, you were almost sure he was daryl’s dad, but when daryl had mumbled the words “this is my big brother, merle.” well, you were a little shocked to say the least.

“yer the (l/n) kid, ain’t ya,” he spoke, the same southern twang in his voice that daryl had, just a tad more mature. if you could call merle mature. “ya look like ya eat scraps, girlie ! what’s wrong with ya !”

and that was how you met merle dixon.

you’d spent a lot of time with both daryl and merle growing up, shoved between the two of them in the old truck merle drove around, hands pressed between your thighs in attempt to make yourself smaller, all three of you staring out the front windshield of the truck. or squished on the couch together between the two brothers, watching whatever shitty war movie was on the tv. you eventually learned why you were always shoved between the two of them.

to stop them fighting.

you remember the first time you ever witnessed daryl and merle get into a fight. watching daryl tackle merle to the ground, dust kicking up about them as they rolled around on the dirt. profanities being thrown around along with fists. you were stunned, not knowing what to do until you’re grabbing onto someone’s elbow, trying to pull them off the other. until you’re elbowed in the face yourself.

and that was the story of how merle dixon gave you a blood nose for the first time.

“merle you fucking idiot !” daryl shouted at him, crouching down next to you, an arm around your shoulder while you cradled your nose. you had tears in your eyes, not because you were upset, but because he whacked you right on the nose and it just fucking hurt.

daryl claimed it needed to be fair, that you deserved to hit merle back, to make it even. merle, of course, protested. “i ain’t done nothin’ wrong ! girlie over here got in the way ! it’s ‘er own fault !”

you were just thirteen when you got to punch merle in the nose for the first time.

you had seen merle in several different states during your time at the trailer park. happy, sad, drunk, high, manic, depressed— you name it. he had most likely felt it. you had seen him trip down the steps of their trailer, face planting into the mud when it was storming. you had also watched him almost fall into the fire pit one night, drunk as a skunk. the only reason he didn’t end up in the fire was because daryl was quick to push him the other way.

daryl claimed he hated merle, but he obviously cared.

merle was often the one to drop the both of you off at school. pantera blasting through his shitty truck speakers as he told the both of you to “get the fuck outta my truck and go do some learnin’ !”

he wouldn’t stop listening to pantera. it was his favourite band.

you had been teased relentlessly throughout the years by merle. he’d often call you names like girlie, pipsqueak, bag o’ bones— the list was endless. however, when you got to that age where you were turning into a “woman”, the nicknames changed. sugar, sweetheart, doll face. you couldn’t escape it.

but there was one thing he never did, and it was lay a finger on you. unless you obviously count the time he elbowed you in the nose. but you agreed. that was an accident.

you were never afraid to bite back. you had that feisty nature from growing up with those two boys, and you always had a comeback. no matter what. even if it was telling him to “shut the fuck up.” that was a big part of your vocabulary growing up.

he treated you like his own— he protected you like his own. you never thought you’d admit it, but you did care about merle. his chaos never seemed malicious. it was more like he was trying to break down your walls, see what you’re made of. and while he drives you insane, there’s a strange sort of balance in your lives. daryl’s your rock, your calm. but merle, in his chaotic way, forces you out of your comfort zone. he keeps your sharp, on your toes.

even if he pissed you off to no end.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Yes, yes, we love a bit of hero whump, though may I suggest if it is not too much.... some villain whump? 👀

-💜

Most of the time, the villain could deal with injuries perfectly. In fact, they'd been in med school for several years and had perfected stitching up nearly every inch of their own body. Usually, they wouldn't accept help under any circumstances.

Partly because it felt wrong to bother someone else with their troubles, partly because they were terrified of other people's (non-existing) skills. They couldn't risk it.

But they assumed being placed under house arrest with the hero watching them wasn't exactly usual.

It happened in the middle of a card game between the two of them. A week ago, they would have never agreed to such silly things but after a few days, they had realised there wasn't much to do. No internet connection. No smartphone, no TV. Just this house and a hyperactive hero that couldn't sit still.

Once a week they got to call their parents.

In the exact moment as they put another card onto the stack, the villain felt the stitches open one by one. At first, they simply denied it, made themselves think that it wasn't that bad. They were simply mistaken; it was surely just the usual pain and they were exaggerating.

But the pain increased and they could feel the wetness of the blood trickle down their back. A week ago, before the hero had captured them, they'd been in a pretty rough shape. A swollen face, several nasty bruises and this one stab wound that kept reopening. And stitching their own back? That was more than a little challenge. They hated it, they loathed it.

"I think I have to use the washroom," they said.

"Oh, really? Now that you're losing, huh?" The hero raised an eyebrow. They took these games a little too serious. "Do you seriously expect me to go easy on you because I am the hero? I've been playing this game for years. I have mastered it and I will destroy you, no matter what it takes. No matter what you try, I will-"

"Okay, you win, oh almighty hero." They threw their cards onto the table. It was getting worse. They didn't even know if they could stand up without tripping. Their vision blurred. Everything seemed to turn upside down.

"'Hey, that's not how this works," the hero said. "You can't just give up like that. I was supposed to defeat you."

"M-hm." The villain stood up and for a second, they really thought they would pass out. They took in a deep breath.

"Wait, are you okay?"

"Hm?" The villain didn't find the hero's eyes right away and they could feel their own body sway. God, they needed painkillers, rubbing alcohol, thread, needle... "Yeah, be right back."

They walked past the hero, always in search for something to hold onto but they didn't come very far.

"Oh my god." The hero sounded a little too concerned. The villain thought themselves to be quite a good actor and they weren't even swaying that much. "What the...?"

The hero was next to them in seconds, their hand on the villain's arm. They held onto them.

"What did you do...?"

"What? Nothing, I...oh fuck..." Involuntarily, they grabbed the hero a little too harshly when they felt the wound pulsating.

"Your entire shirt is drenched in blood!" The hero's gaze had hardened and a more concentrated look had replaced their playful smile.

"I got it, it's alright," the villain mumbled. They let go of the hero to drag themselves to the bathroom but the hero had other plans.

"Lay down on the couch," they said.

"You're not my boss," the villain argued. Sometimes, they hated themselves for their stubborness but being nursed by the hero sounded like a greater punishment than even house arrest. Being vulnerable around them, letting someone else take care of them...it sounded like actual hell.

"Please," the hero said. They took the villain's hand and the villain was so confused by this gentle approach that they almost forgot about the pain. They were sure no one else would ever beg to take care of them. When they remembered how violent their capture had been and how many heroes had punched them, they got goosebumps.

They would never tell anyone but they were having nightmares about their fights. Anxiety was eating them up. So, they were almost glad that the hero was observing them at their home.

"It's fine, really," the villain mumbled. "I got it."

"You are bleeding out. You're not fine. Sit down." More or less of their own volition, the villain eventually sat down on the couch. "I'll take your shirt off now, alright?"

The villain's hand was still in theirs.

"Okay," the villain agreed. Their breath hitched and they prepared themselves for the inevitable pain that would follow. However, the hero wasn't rough with them.

"Isn't that from last week?" the hero asked while they pulled the bloody shirt over the villain's head.

"Yeah."

"They gave me an entire protocol about your injuries. There wasn't anything about a stab wound. Just your ankle and your face."

The villain smiled tiredly. "Sounds about right."

It wasn't a big secret that the agency preferred to be silent on how exactly they caught their villains.

Against the villain's burning back, the hero's cold fingers felt heavenly. They put their palm against the villain's skin and pushed them a little forward to see the injury better.

"Did you stitch that yourself?"

"I tried, yeah."

"It looks pretty good," the hero said. "Just give me a second, I will grab everything."

The hero stood up and left for the bathroom.

And the villain sat there, perplexed. When had they ever allowed someone else to even touch them? When had they ever undressed in front of someone else?

What was happening? Were they really this desperate loser who needed comfort that bad?

The villain stared at their hands, their trembling hands. There was no way they could stitch any wound like this, not even if it was on their thigh.

It was more than frustrating, more than a little annoying.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Allergies maybe?" the hero asked. The villain turned around and was surprised to see the hero with all the things they would have grabbed too. There were even painkillers and a glass of water in their hand. The villain shook their head. "Alright. Take this."

All of it was a little...too good to be true. What the hero asked seemed reasonable and their actions were too. The villain swallowed the painkillers and watched as the hero sat on the couch. They pressed a clean towel against the villain's wound and despite their carefulness, the villain hissed.

"Your pain from one to ten? How bad is it?"

"I..." the villain realised they had never thought about it. Usually when they tended to their own wounds they were like a machine, following instructions they had burnt into their system a long time ago. It didn't matter if it burnt or hurt, as long as the wound was closed. But the hero was actually communicating, they were careful and gentle. "...maybe a three?"

"Are you sure?"

"Okay, it's a five." The hero seemed to be another person completely, their jokes and their cheery manner were long gone, yet they were friendly and soft. Apparently, this was the professional side of the hero.

"Do you think it was a clean knife? Your wound doesn't seem to be infected."

"It should have been. Heroes clean their knives regularly, don't they?" For a moment, the hero was quiet and the villain wasn't sure if they had said the wrong thing. They cleared their throat. "Uhm, I can also stitch the wound, if you..."

"No, it's okay. It looks pretty clean, so I'm not going to put any alcohol on it. Don't want to damage your tissue." Woah. The villain had never really cared about that. They'd just drench their wounds in alcohol to kill any infection causing thing, even if that damaged their tissue. "One more thing before I start stitching."

"Yeah?"

"Just out of curiosity. Do you know whom of my colleagues did this to you?"

The villain's stomach tingled. The hero was probably not asking out of pure curiosity.

[adonis-koo]

sweet nothing • 7

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word Count: 2k

Previous | Next…

Note: IM ALIVEEE, barely, but my skin is clearing, my cortisol levels are lowering, nature is healing 🧘‍♀️ 🍃 I finally gave up and just decided that despite this story not being plot heavy, we’re still getting some plot anyways

“Are the meds not working?” You frowned, standing at the entryway of Jungkook’s bedroom, his laptop abandoned on the other side of the bed as if in defeat, he wasn’t asleep, just vacantly staring at the ceiling while laying down.

You felt an amused sense of pity for him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so utterly miserable before.

“They are, just not fast enough.” He rasped out, not bothering to look at you as he sighed, closing his eyes, “I can't even focus on anything.”

You could feel your heart tug just the slightest for him, he really did look awful, “Well how about we watch a movie? It could take your mind off the pain.”

“I need to work.” He stressed the word as best he could despite his eyes still being shut.

“Okay well, as far as I can tell, you aren’t working.” You replied walking up to the bedside as he opened his eyes into an unappreciative glare.

You offered a somewhat apologetic smile, “C’mon it’ll make you feel better, you’ll have something to focus on.”

Grabbing the remote off his nightstand you left him little choice in the matter, he said nothing, eyes following you as you rounded the bed, huffing a little as you managed to get sat down next to him.

“Remind me why I put up with your antics?” Jungkook asked dryly.

You shrugged as you turned on the TV, “You tell me.”

Jungkook only stayed silent, even as you gave him a side glance, perhaps a little curious, after all, how could you not?

If he had an answer, he kept it to himself as you browsed through the streaming services before eventually settling on an action movie, the plot however was difficult to keep up with, Jungkook however funny enough seemed invested.

Half way through the movie you had given up, the sleepy lethargy you had been experiencing the last few days winning out as you began nodding off.

“Are you really sleeping through the climax?” Jungkook’s raspy voice made your eyes open.

“This was for you not me,” You complained, managing to grab the throw blanket that had been hanging off the end of his bed, curling up against the fuzzy material.

For a brief moment, a memory pulled a smile to your face, “Y’know….when I was little, Wonho used to make me soup- it was from a can but it was the thought that mattered, he’d always get me a fizzy soda from the corner store and we’d watch cartoons together. I remember falling asleep against him and then I’d wake up tucked in on the couch.”

Jungkook’s eyes stared at the TV but you could tell he was no longer focused on the movie, dare you say he seemed almost bothered by your words.

“What?”

He seemed to be debating something in his head, “You used to never go into detail…about your parents. Just that they weren’t around.”

You gave him a weak smile, you knew what he was asking. It rarely got brought up, but you did recall mentioning the few times he had tried to pry before, always shewing the question away with a ‘My parents were never around’.

You shrugged, “Would it be too simple to say that was the truth?”

Jungkook shifted a little to face you, “Was it that simple?”

There was no challenge in his tone, only a quiet raspy question, he was always good at hiding his intentions, shrouding it behind an unphased expression, but the more you had gotten to know Jungkook, the better you had become in the art of seeing the subtle shift in his gaze.

And right now he was nothing but curious, he always had been, but even moreso now.

Your hands had managed to hold the lower half of your stomach, otherwise you would’ve crossed them, eyes flickering away from him you gave a small shrug, “For me….”

You paused for a moment to gather your thoughts before you relented with a quiet sigh, “They were always off going to bars and clubs together, they were addicts. Wouldn’t come home for days at a time, and when they did they were never sober.” Your lips twisted into a frown, voice no louder then a whisper, “Then one day only my dad came home. Definitely not sober but he was crying, like hysterically sobbing, and he just collapsed in front of me and kept apologizing.”

“Grabbed me real tight around the shoulders and kept babbling incoherently, his mouth was all discolored and his skin was real clammy looking.” You rubbed your head, the memory leaving an icky feeling in your chest.

Jungkook looked pensive after a long moment of silence, it was as if he knew there was more, “And?”

“Apparently he overdosed on fentanyl on the living room floor,” You smiled bitterly, “In front of me…I don’t remember it though, can hardly recall the night anymore honestly. I was young, maybe eight or nine. Wonho was around thirteen at the time and he ended up intervening, he told me later that he found out my dad pimped out my mom to get enough money for the fentanyl, problem was that the dealer was apart of the Jang Hi mafia. I can’t even remember the last time I saw her before she disappeared, don’t know if she’s even alive anymore.”

“You never went to look?” Jungkook asked, a soft note could be detected in his voice.

You shook your head, “There was nothing to look for,” you couldn’t hide the sadness in your voice, your lips trembling a little, “She was never there to begin with…maybe that makes me a bad person, but I can’t imagine having a child and just…”

You couldn’t even think about it, your hands rubbing over the swollen skin of your stomach to try and calm your nerves.

“Out of all the people I’ve met- and trust me, I’ve met a lot,” Jungkook’s hand lifted, fixing your blanket back over your shoulder, “In comparison, you’re an angel.”

You stared at him for a long moment before you couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips, a smile of his own appearing, “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, I'm saying it because it’s the truth.” Jungkook replied, it was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping, “You’ll make a great mother.”

“You think?”

“I know,” He had a confident look about him that was difficult to not believe, “How do you feel about the delivery coming up?”

“I still have another twelve weeks to go Jungkook,” You tried to push the anxious feeling from your chest, “But I am nervous, I mean, I’ve never had a child before, don’t really know what to expect, other then I’ve heard it’s excruciating, which I guess is a given…”

You squinted a little, the movie long forgotten playing in the background, “I was terrified when I first found out I was pregnant, and the morning sickness was awful. I could hardly hold anything down the first few days, I was so sensitive to smells, any kind of strong scent gave me a raging headache…”

Jungkook’s lips parted and you could almost see it, hear it, the question of who the father was. But his lips immediately shut once more, as if perhaps sensing you would be unlikely to answer.

“I thought about it…” You admitted quietly, “Getting an abortion, but…” You shook your head, “I don’t know, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Any other woman in my shoes surely would. And even now, I wonder if I made the right decision, if I had known Wonho was going to disappear like this…” You sighed, “I don’t know, I guess some silly part of me, thought that maybe, this was meant to take me to a new path in life, one where I’d work hard and I’d be able to separate myself from this life. Was that too naive to think?”

“I think anyone who values their life would want that,” Jungkook concluded easily, “Someone who isn’t meant to be in this lifestyle, who’s honest, and still has a shred of dignity left.”

It was quiet for a moment before he continued, “You were always too good for the underground. Shame you got dragged into it.”

You shrugged, “I don’t really think about it much anymore, I mean, it is what it is.” You chewed on your bottom lip, “Maybe it would be better if I didn’t keep the baby. I’m sure any couple unable would kill for the chance to adopt.”

You had never seen Jungkook straighten the way he did on this moment and you couldn’t help but somewhat regret your words, not your thought on it, but the fact that you had voiced it aloud.

It wasn’t the first time you had thought about it either, it was stupid of you to think having this baby would do anything other than pull you into the underground further.

“What makes you say that?” Jungkook’s gaze was like steel, it made you shy away a little, almost feeling the same way when you had first met.

You couldn’t keep eye contact with him even if you wanted too, “A lot of reasons,” you confessed, nothing more then a whisper, “The fact that I’m a single mom for starters? Or the fact that my brother is in serious debt and I’m being held here as a makeshift safe house? Let’s not even begin to talk about being able to properly provide for a child. I never had present parents and I don’t have anyone to ask for help.”

You felt tears of frustration fill your eyes.

Jungkook parted his lips, but quickly shut them once more, you could tell he was battling a plethora of questions, which maybe he didn’t deserve an answer too, but you could tell it was beginning to slowly eat at him.

Instead Jungkook’s lip twitched as if in irritation at whatever he was thinking about, eventually vocalizing his thought, “Is the dad really that much of a deadbeat?”

He didn’t say it but you could see it on the tip of his tongue, ‘I never thought you’d go that low’

You didn’t say anything for a long moment, carefully thinking about how to reply, it wasn’t that you were purposely withholding information, it just simply brought back uncomfortable memories.

“Far from a deadbeat. Furthest thing possible,” you shuddered, “It did cross my mind,” You mumbled, “Finding him. Them. But…” you trailed off before shaking your head, “What good would that do me? He might want the baby but he isn’t gonna want me.”

You only glanced down at your stomach, hand rubbing around the swollen skin as you felt a flutter trill across, the baby once again kicking.

It briefly made you smile, your worries put at ease.

A hand suddenly reached out, grabbing your chin along with your attention.

You nearly jumped at Jungkook being nearly nose to nose with you, his lips parted and his eyes had so

many things they wanted to say, “You can always ask me for help.”

You hated the way you felt all of the old feelings you had once upon a time suppressed into nothing more than a blur of self-gaslit delusions.

But it was never delusions, it was never just all in your head.

“Can I?” Your voice wavered.

Jungkook stared at you for a long minute, his eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he eventually, almost reluctantly looked away, only letting out a small laugh.

Perhaps a tone of bitterness if you really listened close, possibly regret?

“We’re gonna have to replay entire last quarter of the movie,” Jungkook complained with a rasp, sinking into the bed frame and suddenly you remembered how easy it was to pretend like there was never anything there.

You cleared your throat, before giving him a weak smile, “I’ll get the remote.”

The past was the past anyways, you’d just have to figure things out one day at a time, just like you always have.

[hxney-lemcn]

This is Home — Osamu Dazai x gn! reader

summary: reader and Dazai's bond grows, feelings are revealed and Dazai shows a rare moment of vulnerability.

tw: mention of Dazai being suicidal, slight angst (mostly fluff), slight hurt/comfort

a/n: I hope I didn't write Dazai's character wrong. He's such a complicated character and I made him super lovesick so oops. Also this is super self indulgent (tbf I always write the reader in relation to how I would act).

wc: 3.3k

Master List

Your life outside of work wasn’t too exciting. After coming home from a stressful day of talking down a hostage situation or tracking down a criminal ability user, you were grateful for the peace you found at home. The Armed Detective Agency wasn’t what you expected to do as your career, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, after dealing with troubling situations all the time, laying down in bed and watching whatever managed to keep your attention was all the more gratifying. 

It was funny looking back, when you had been afraid of growing up lonely and bored. You got more than enough excitement at work, and you almost saw your colleagues as family. You truly loved them, they were everything (which was a bit sad but you digress), but you also enjoyed the tranquility of your home. The time you had to yourself was something you always appreciated. 

Today was one of those rare peaceful days. It was the weekend and you all were given a much needed day off. You had been letting your top coat dry, being careful as you scrolled through your phone, tv playing something in the background. Your pet cat laid peacefully on your feet, her cute little head snuggling into your legs. Days like these were your favorite. The weight of your job was lifted momentarily, soaking in as much of this relaxing feeling as possible. 

What you hadn’t fully expected (you can never underestimate what he’d do) was for Dazai to pop into your bedroom…at least he had the decency to knock on your bedroom door before entering. How did he get into your apartment? Lock picking. He totally lock picked your door. Much to his amusement, you hadn’t even batted an eye at his appearance. He hadn’t done this before, but from the way he acted around you in the office, this was bound to happen. Your only grief was that your cat had jumped away in apprehension of the ‘stranger’. 

Dazai let out a gasp, eyes starry as he noticed the nail care products that were on your bed stand, “You do your own nails? I always thought you got them professionally done.”

“Nah,” You shrugged. “You think I have the money or time for all that? I’ve been doing my own nails for as long as I can remember.”

“You’re so talented,” Dazai praised, jumping onto your bed next to you. Taking one of your hands in his own, he took in your work, even though it was just one color he was staring like it was the most fascinating artwork he’s ever seen.

“Want me to do yours?” You asked, unsure why he was so enraptured with your usual nails. You always tried to keep them nice. You could neglect any other aspect of your health, but you always tried to keep your nails looking good. You weren’t sure why, but maintaining them was relaxing, as well as a routine that calms you down. 

“Would you really,” Dazai gasps, now clasping your hand in his, an exciting grin dazzling his beautiful features. “You spoil me truly, Abelia.” That was something only Dazai called you. His fawning over women had slowly fizzled out, the pet name belladonna long forgotten. Instead, he had turned that attention towards you tenfold. If someone needed Dazai (mainly Kunikida), the first place they’d look was wherever you were. He would constantly drap himself over you, complimenting you and fawning over you. It was weird, you weren’t used to such attention, but you had started to look forward to the next time you’d see Dazai. You soaked up any and all attention he was willing to give you, while he had been doing the same. 

You looked up Abelia, unsure what that was. It was a plant, just like belladonna. But except being the name of deadly nightshade, it was a flowering plant, a part of the honeysuckle family. It was a unique, but heartwarming nickname that you had grown fond of quicker than you’d like to admit. It was hard for you to fully comprehend if Dazai actually was interested in you, or if this was his weird way of showing you affection. Although as mentioned earlier, he had stopped his flirting with women altogether, which made you wonder if he was okay (he’s just whipped for you). 

“You can pick out any color you want,” You motioned to the small rack of nail polish you owned. You had more than you needed, but that gave Dazai a wide variety. You watched him, the warmth in your eyes clear as he made a show of what color to pick.

“Ahh what do I choose?” He sighed, hands pointing to different colors. “There’s so much to choose from.” Suddenly, he perked up, picking up a color and quickly sliding up to you. A grin formed on your face as he waved the sparkly pink color in front of your face. 

“I’m warning you now, those sparkles are a pain to get off,” You warned, grabbing your nail file and cuticle cutters. “I had to scrape them off even after all the nail polish was already gone.”

“All the more reason,” Dazai smiled, watching as you fully turned towards him. Dazai didn’t hesitate when you held your hand out towards him, placing his in yours. Your touch always warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt before, the simplicity of your routines is what drew him in. That wasn’t to say you were boring, it’s just all he had known was chaos. If he wasn’t the center of chaos, he would create it. You were the complete opposite. You gave Dazai a taste of something he thought wasn’t meant for him, and he was slowly becoming dependent on you to show him more. A world that isn’t bloody and terrible, a world where he can be loved even with the terrible things that he’s done. A world where he’s with you. 

Dazai didn’t pay any attention to the tv, warm chocolate eyes watching your every movement. How you gently filed his nails into a nice looking oval shape (he couldn’t believe how better they looked just after the first step). How your eyes would dart to the tv every so often to keep up. How you made sure he wasn’t hurt when you clipped his cuticles, he was in slight awe at how you made it look so easy. Finally you put on the base coat. It had been thirty minutes and Dazai was already feeling a bit antsy. Sitting still wasn’t really his style even though he could be the laziest motherfucker alive. You were just so close, and he felt like it was a crime that he hasn’t held you close yet.

Even though Dazai knew his feelings for you ran deeper than they should, he hadn’t been able to tell you. Yes…he was kind of obvious, but he could tell that you would always interpret his affection as nothing but friendly. It was amusing and frustrating at the same time. He wanted to move past this stage, for you to be his, and him yours. Yet he was held back, knowing he didn’t deserve such kindness. How many people has he killed that wanted the same? How many people has he killed that had that warmth, only to extinguish it? 

At the end of the day, he still felt that hollow feeling. He didn’t really care about whomever he killed, they were just blank faces adding to a number. That alone made him feel guilty, because he knows you wouldn’t see it as such. You were so kind, kind enough to see a monster like him and care. He’s been shown the light time and time again within the ADA, and you only furthered that. At first it was hard for Dazai to understand the difference between the brutality of the Port Mafia and the ADA, but it slowly became clearer over time. You had been the nail in the coffin, showing him the true beauty of protecting someone. You had become a shoulder to cry on for many victims, almost crying with them sometimes, sharing their pain. He didn’t understand how you did it, but he’s trying to learn. 

That antsy feeling in Dazai slowly rose, the way you gently treated him as you continued to apply the polish to his nails only fueling the feeling further. That warm, fluttery feeling was getting worse and you were his outlet. Oh how he wanted to hug you, cuddle you, squeeze you tight to get those feelings out of his systems. What a predicament he put himself in. 

“Careful!” You gasped, holding his hands still with wide eyes. “I just put on the top coat, you gotta let it dry.”

“How long will that take?” Dazai whined, a pout forming on his pretty lips. 

“A while,” You replied, waving his hands to help them air dry a bit faster. “I don’t have an exact time, I mostly just wing it. When you can tap your nails without them sticking to each other is when they’re completely dry.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” He whined again, dramatically swaying as you continued to hold his hands still. “How am I supposed to live without you in my arms?”

“You survived 22 years,” You teased back, a sly grin on your face (Dazai thought he was going to die at the sight). “I’m sure you’ll live.”

“You’re so cold,” Dazai bemoaned, tilting his head back (but making sure his hands never left yours). You found yourself stuck holding Dazai’s hands until his nails fully dried. You had almost let go and he nearly ruined all your precious work. It was nearly dinner by the time his nails dried, and you found yourself making plans with him. 

“Take out or should I actually try to make something?” You pondered, looking into your fridge to see if the latter was even possible.

“Take out,” Dazai replied instantly. Glancing at him, you watched as he beckoned you towards your couch, arms stretched out like a child asking for a hug. Although this was the first time either of you had done anything like this before, it felt completely natural, almost like this was how it was always supposed to be. 

“Alright,” You shrugged, closing your fridge and approaching the man that took up your couch. “I’m kinda craving pizza, what about you?”

“Pizza is fine,” He mumbled, gently pulling you to lay on top of him. You felt yourself fluster slightly, unused to such an intimate hold. Yes Dazai would cling to you almost 24/7, but this was in the privacy of your home, and without the company of your friends that kept you grounded, it felt like the moment was more tender.

Taking out your phone to the best of your abilities, you kept making sure Dazai was okay with your decisions (he would eat dirt with you if you asked). After you confirmed everything, he had started playing with your hair, making almost completely melt into him (he had quickly found your weakness). Dazai watched with fondness as your eyes fluttered as he scratched gently at your scalp, it was so cute how you tried to act so nonchalantly (it worked greatly to his advantage that you were also touch starved). 

At that moment, it felt like your relationship with the suicidal detective had shifted. An understanding washing over the both of you. You had both been the others this entire time, you both were just too cowardly to speak it outloud. The warmth in your chest hurt so nicely, enjoying every second that Dazai’s nimble fingers twirled your hair around, never wanting him to stop. Unfortunately for you both, the pizza arrived quickly, causing you to pry yourself off Dazai as he tried to tangle you into him further.

“I have to get the pizza,” You grumbled, the more responsible of the two.

“Fine,” Dazai relented, allowing you to stand up properly. 

…

You couldn’t hide the lovesick grin on your face as Dazai showed everyone his nails the next work day. Atsushi complimented him, albeit hesitantly, asking when you did them. Dazai held the most shit eating grin when he mentioned you both hung out over the weekend, causing Atsushi to sweat. The look on Atsushi’s face as he looked at you read ‘my condolences’. 

If you thought Dazai was clingy before, he was basically a leech at this point. That day had changed him, and he found himself becoming more selfish. He wanted to call you his. He wanted to be yours so badly, the thought of you both sharing more domestic moments consumed him. 

Such a moment happened after work. Dazai was feeling particularly romantic, and who was he to deny you such affection? You deserved the world and he would give you no less. He brought you to a park, a thick blanket and a bag of food for you two to share (he sadly couldn’t find a picnic basket in time). Since your work day ended at five, the park wasn’t too full. Parents were starting to take their kids home and some people were having their evening jog. Dazai had brought you to a more quiet area, placing the blanket beneath a tree. 

You felt flattered at the amount of attention Dazai had put into this. The blanket was a nice thickness so it wasn’t super uncomfortable to sit on the ground, the foods were your favorites and Dazai currently held a chocolate covered strawberry up to your mouth.

“Say ahh~” He giggled, clearly amused with the situation. You opened your mouth hesitantly, feeling embarrassed at the situation. This wasn’t the first time someone’s fed you something, albeit it wasn’t often, this scenario was more intimate then anything you had experienced. 

“Is this a date?” You couldn’t help but ask after you swallowed the berry (it was delicious). Normally you’d shy away if the topic was brought up, but at the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself too. After that domestic day, the way Dazai treated you was warmer than normal, and it felt 100% genuine. He had desensitized you to the notion of dating him, and it seemed to work in your favor. 

“If you want it to be,” Dazai hummed, grin widening.

“I don’t mind,” You replied, picking up a sandwich. “As long as that’s also what you want.” 

His heart fluttered, an occurrence that had become normal in your presence. The fact that you wanted his full consent, even though he’s the one that planned it warmed him. You were so sweet he could feel his teeth rot. If anything, he should be asking you if you really wanted this. Even though you knew he was an ex-Port Mafia executive, he didn’t think you truly understood the sins he had committed. What he’s done without a second thought. The sadistic acts he did for fun. You had nearly cried over a song about a rat being killed, how would you react if you heard the details of his crimes?

You had sensed the change in Dazai’s demeanor. The shine in his eyes dulled, even if everything else hadn’t changed. He suddenly looked drained, the eye bags under his eyes were dark. At first you were worried that he didn’t want to date you, but that thought seemed silly. It then dawned on you that the charming, lovely Dazai might have been feeling inadequate. 

“Of course,” Dazai smiled, masking his feelings as quickly as they appeared. “I would be honored to be yours, Abelia.” He grabbed both of your hands, holding them up to his cheek as he swooned dramatically. A smile tugged at your lips as you noticed the polish on his nails, they had slightly chipped, but they were still nearly intact. 

Sliding one of your hands out of his grip, you caressed his cheek (a bold move on your part), “You know I care for you, right?” His dark eyes widened, a small blush rising over his cheekbones. Your thumb gently rubbed his cheek as he kept your other hand clutched in his own. 

“You shouldn’t,” Dazai muttered, letting you see a fraction of how he felt. He wasn’t sure why he admitted such a vulnerable thought so quickly. It was like the honesty in your eyes had compelled him to tell you the truth.

A frown tugged at your lips, unwavering adoration filling you, “Everyone deserves someone to care for them.”

The determination in your eyes, your kindness, it had all caused Dazai to turn into a gooey mess on the inside. You said such astounding things with such a strong truth. He knew you meant what said.

“Everyone?” Dazai repeated, raising an eyebrow, trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

You paused, thinking of some bad people from history that were definitely not worthy, but decided to stand strong (or your defense could easily be dismantled), “Everyone.” You noticed that the shine of despair still clouded in his eyes, his smile unwavering. That’s when you realized he truly didn’t think he deserved to be loved and cared for. Taking your other hand out of his grasp, you held his face in your hands, a seriousness taking over you.

“You may have done bad things, you may have hurt people, but you’ve changed,” You stated, staring deeply into his eyes in hope to get through to him. “And as long as you try to be good, to atone for what you’ve done, then you deserve a second chance. Osamu Dazai, you are not a bad person, and you deserve to be loved.”

The formidable Osamu Dazai, the carefree, lazy, unbreakable, cunning Dazai had cracked. And you, sweet, loving, caring, kind you had been the one who managed to break him. He had never expected to hear such kind words aimed towards him, he never had expected to show anyone his guilt he carried. He never expected to have someone like you in his life, who would love unconditionally. He thought people like that were fools who were oblivious to the horrors of the world, but you fought frontline and still smiled and loved ceaselessly. 

A bittersweet look fell onto your face, and when he felt your thumbs brush something wet away from his cheek, he realized he was crying. Something he had never done in front of someone else. He supposes it was a sign of how deeply he trusted you, when he thought you couldn’t get any kinder, you had shown him that some people simply didn’t have evil in them. Yes you could be selfish, no you weren’t perfect, he knew you were insecure and sometimes your kindness was due to you being a people pleaser. He had seen you become devastated at the thought of someone not liking you, how you’d do something for someone at your own expense because you want them to be happy. For someone who was extremely independent, you were still quite dependent on others' views on you, for someone so trusting, it was hard for you to fully trust someone.

“This was supposed to be a romantic date,” Dazai sighed, a small pout on his lips.

“I think this went quite well,” You replied. You smiled gently as you lifted a strawberry up to Dazai’s mouth. “Say ahh~”

Dazai couldn’t hold back his delighted giggles, happily chomping on the strawberry you offered him. He felt lighter than he ever had, who knew telling someone your problems could make you feel better, even if it's just slightly (get therapy man, it works). You had managed to endear yourself even more to the bandaged man (if that was even possible). If you wanted to get rid of him now good luck, he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.

If only he could mutter those three words that rested at the tip of his tongue.

[heich0e]

wouldn't it be nice? - suna rintarou/f!reader (haikyuu!): fluff but suggestive at times, established relationship, talk of babies/families/pregnancy, committing to the bit is all fun and games until the bit commits to you, tw: light miscommunication since some of u guys hate that, let the record show this was NOT written for his birthday, i didn't even KNOW it was today ok, i will not be taking questions at this time (or ever)

You know exactly what started it.

The problem.

It was some sappy commercial you saw on TV one lazy Sunday afternoon.

You rarely even watch television—not proper cable television anyway—preferring the simplicity of streaming services in this modern day and age. It's a complete fluke that you happen across it at all while you and Rintarou rest sprawled across his couch in the afternoon sun, your feet tucked underneath his thigh. You wouldn't even go on to remember what the commercial was for; all you remember is the perfect, cherubic little baby at the centre of it, and the way that it made your heart melt.

You let out a long, wistful sigh once the advertisement transitions into the next. "I want to hold a baby."

It piques his interest. That stupid, completely unremarkable comment that you'd come soon to regret.

Rintarou pulls himself a little more upright at his end of the sofa, shooting you a mischievous look. His expression might seem placid to most people, impassive even, but you know it, and him, and all his minute eccentricities too well to be fooled.

"I'll give you a baby," he muses, angling his body over yours on the sofa with his arms caging your waist. You draw your legs back instinctively—hips perpendicular to your thighs and heels to the bottom of your bum—at the first sign of trouble.

Your lip curls, and you lift your sock-clad feet so they press flat against his chest, pushing him back with all the strength you can. He hardly budges, but you expect as much.

"Ew, Rin," you snort, head lolling to the side to idly watch the next useless commercial on TV as it unfolds, “gross."

Suna pauses, a hand loosely circling your ankle, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. There's a look that you don't recognize that flitters across his face. His grip tightens a little, his thumb sweeping down over the round protrusion of your joint and back again.

"Gross?" he asks softly.

"Yeah, gross," you say, pulling your foot out of his hold. It takes a bit of effort, because he doesn’t seem to want to move, but you roll over onto your side and wiggle out from under him to rise up off the sofa. You shuffle into the kitchen for a snack, and you feel his eyes on you as you go.

But that was just the start.

You’re not sure if you just never noticed, or if the universe has a deeply perverse sense of cosmic humour, but after that Sunday afternoon, it seems like there are babies everywhere you go. 

And if not actual living, breathing babies, then it's all matter of things that are decidedly baby-adjacent. Itty bitty onesies on display at the store you two are shopping at. Sweet souvenir plushies at the Aquarium that are meant for little ones to hold. Diapers, formula, and various other baby necessities are advertised in the posters mounted on bus stops, on train stations platforms, and on flashing digital billboards. 

And every single time, without fail, you see them when you’re with Suna. 

And every single time, without fail, he looks at you and waits for you to meet his gaze. 

You’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding it, honestly. But then he’ll always make some comment. Point it out. Make it obvious.

“Look at that baby’s tiny hand. I bet our baby will have my hands.”

“Can you believe that babies are really this little? Do you think ours will be this small?” 

“If you were buying these for our baby would you get the yellow or the—“

“Trick question,” you cut Suna off, snagging the yellow pair of training chopsticks (complete with a little ducky on top) out from his hands and shoving them back onto the display he’d just plucked them off of. You don’t allow yourself to linger for too long on how cute they really are. “Babies don’t use chopsticks, and also we’re not having a baby.”

You continue down the aisle of the market, a familiar pain throbbing just behind your eyes that Rintarou seems so uniquely skilled at eliciting. Your face is hot too, but that’s probably just from the frustration. After a moment you hear his feet shuffling along after you, and the two of you finish your grocery shopping in relative silence.

You’re used to putting up with all of your boyfriend’s other annoyances and oddities, so this is just another one to add to the ever-growing list. But this time, something feels a bit… different. 

The two of you stop at a vending machine for coffee on your walk home since it’s cold out. Suna has the largest of your two reusable grocery bags looped over one of his arms, and somehow while you’re digging for change in your wallet he manages to weasel the other one off of your arm and onto his own, too. 

“There’s a coffee shop right around the corner, why are you stopping here?” he asks, watching as you carefully make your selection from the humming machine in front of you. You press the button of your choice, and a can of cafe au lait clunks down into the waiting chute below. 

“The metal can keeps my hands warmer,” you explain, sticking a few more yen into the machine and choosing Rintarou’s favourite, too. His choice makes the same descent yours had, and you crouch down to retrieve it for him, holding it out to him in offering as you stand. 

He blinks at you.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, shaking his head a little. “Hands are full, anyway.”

You balk at him soundlessly for a moment. “Give the other bag back, then!”

“Nope,” he replies, making a point to enunciate it clearly in a way that you know he knows drives you crazy. He takes a step in the direction of your apartment, and you have no choice but to stick the can of coffee he’d declined into your coat pocket and chase after him.

It does a great job of keeping your hand—tucked into your pocket and wrapped around it—warm as you walk, though.

Nearly back at your apartment, your can of coffee drained and properly disposed of, a little ball of fluff waddles past you on the sidewalk, heading towards the entrance of a nearby park. You and Rintarou both pause, equally confused by what you’ve just spotted.

Behind the amorphous little thing is a couple, maybe a few years older than you two are, trailing not even a metre away. You watch as they coo and fawn over it as is wobbles unsteadily towards the open stretch of grass ahead. They call it pet-names, and try to convince it to turn around for mom and dad so they can take a picture.

Oh.

A baby.

Probably a little older than a baby given the whole… walking thing. But it’s still so tiny, even in its big, puffy coat, so they can’t be very old. The hood is pulled up over the child’s head, and you realize upon closer inspection that it has—

“Teddy-bear ears,” Rintarou says, cupping his fingers over his mouth and blowing warm air into his hands. “That’s so cute.”

“Yeah,” you say with a soft smile, watching as the child toddles along in their fluffy little teddy jacket.

Suna must have put the grocery bags down at his feet at some point when the two of you stopped walking, and when he pulls his hands back from his face, you see how the tip of his nose has gone pink from the cold. He dips down in front of you, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you up-close. 

“What?” you ask him nervously, a hand fluttering self consciously to your face. 

His breath leaves his mouth in wispy clouds as he tilts his head to the side. He’s so close that the warmth brushes against your lips like an airy, indirect kiss. You wonder if he can taste the coffee that clings to yours.

“What?” you repeat yourself again, a little more insistently this time. You reach up and pinch either of his cheeks between your thumbs and forefingers—stretching the pliable flesh outwards in an attempt to get him to back off a bit. His rosy cheeks are cool under your warm touch.

“Do you think we’d make a cute baby?” Rintarou asks, though the question is a little garbled thanks to your grip, and your stomach clenches involuntarily. His hands, and his frigid fingertips, reach up and rest over your own where you’re still pinching his cheeks—though your vice has eased slightly.

“You can barely even make an omelet,” you huff out as heat rises in your cheeks, pulling your hands out from under his and looking away. “Like I’d ever trust you to make a baby.”

“People make them all the time by accident, you know,” he remarks, rubbing at his stinging cheeks where you’d been pinching him. “I’m sure I could do it on purpose if I really set my mind to it.”

You dip down and grab the grocery bag he’d taken off your hands earlier, hiking it up onto your shoulder.

“Why are you so obsessed with this stupid baby joke?” you ask him exasperatedly, following it with a long, aggrieved sigh that you can see as you breathe it out.

He looks at you for a moment, his brow pinching in the middle. His nose is still so pink, and it makes the green in his eyes stand out more. 

You watch how Suna’s lips part, like he’s going to say something, but then they press together in a thin line again without uttering a word. He picks up his grocery bag with one hand and sets off in the direction of home, and this time you feel a little sheepish as you follow after him.

The apartment is quiet when you return home, and it stays that way as the two of you unpack the groceries in your kitchen side by side. You bought more than you usually would on a weekly grocery trip, all because Suna’s been staying over more than he usually does. But there’s a sudden frostiness that seems to have creeped in from outside, as if clinging to your coattails, and the chill has now settled between the two of you. 

It makes a strange sort of anxiety prickle under the surface of your skin, tender like a bruise. It makes you wonder if half of these groceries are going to go to waste.

“I’ll shower first,” Rintarou mutters without turning towards you after he puts the last pantry item away and closes the cabinet.

Stress sits heavy in the pit of your stomach when he doesn’t look at you. It’s intentional, you know it is. Suna’s favourite hobby is staring at you—he’s told you that himself many, many times. But he doesn’t even spare you a glance before he shuffles off towards your bedroom. 

You stand in silence in the kitchen, as though that weight in your gut keeps you anchored in place. You can hear the rustle of Rintarou’s clothes hitting the hamper. You hear the bathroom door close. You hear the spray of the shower turn on. 

You hear your heartbeat. Loud and wet in your ears.

You’re being ridiculous. You know that. You’re all worked up over nothing. 

This was all just some stupid joke that he was being annoying about in the first place. That he found every possible opportunity to bring up. 

You aren’t even sure what’s upset him so much; uncertain as to why you being annoyed about one of his blatant attempts to annoy you seems to have caused him offence.

You curl up on your sofa as Rintarou showers, picking at the fraying cuff of your hoodie as you similarly pull apart every second of your memory from the walk home from the market in an attempt to identify what could possibly have gone wrong. You’re thinking about the can of coffee—left sitting, unopened and room-temperature now, on your kitchen counter—when you hear the shower turn off.

The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly as you wait for your sullen boyfriend to emerge, but when he does he still seems resolved to avoid you. You wait on the sofa, your fingers stilled in the motion of fiddling with your sleeve, anticipating that he’ll come ask you to blow-dry his hair, just like he always does.

He doesn’t. 

The hairdryer clicks on in the other room, and the sound makes you feel sick. 

“Rin!” your voice leaves you involuntarily, without an ounce of conscious effort. You sound panicked.

The hairdryer clicks off immediately, and Rintarou appears in the doorway to your bedroom—half-dressed and hair half-dried—in an instant. His eyes are alight with concern.

Your hand had flown to your mouth as soon as you called out for him, too late to actually muffle the sound. But it stays there as you look at him with shocked, notably-guilty eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, eying you suspiciously.

“Nothing,” you murmur, your fingers still resting lightly over your lips, you avert your eyes. “It’s nothing, sorry.”

He hesitates in the doorway for a moment, and then turns to head back to the hairdryer.

“It’s just—“

He pauses when you speak again, one of his hands resting on the doorframe he’s lingering beneath—neither in nor fully out. 

“—you’re mad at me.”

You watch his shoulder blades as your words hang in the air between the two of you. The chill in your apartment, unlike it had been outside, is only proverbial—but you half expect to see wisps of vapour slipping out on the edge of your breaths.

“I can’t figure out what I did wrong.”

Suna looks at you over his shoulder, his already vulpine eyes narrowing a little further. Not in irritation, but consideration. For all the strangeness between the two of you today, you can still recognize that much in his expression. 

“I’m not mad at you,” he finally says, and you hate how relieved you feel at so few words. Hate even more how him turning back to face you makes the weight in your stomach lessen. That as he approaches you on the sofa you feel the air warm with every step.

Rintarou perches on the edge of your couch, a full cushion between the two of you as you sit there quietly. Both of his feet are on the ground, but yours are drawn up onto the sofa with you, facing him. Slowly your feet creep forward, slipping your toes under his sweat-pant clad thigh.

Suna’s head droops forward, and he lets out a breathy, wry laugh.

“What are your theories so far?” he asks quietly. 

Your head tilts to the side in confusion.

He peeks over at you, peering up at you from the corner of his eye.

“What do you think you might have done wrong?”

You hum quietly, pursing your lips slightly.

“Well, I… I thought maybe I got you the wrong coffee. I didn’t ask, but you always choose that one, so I just thought…”

Suna clicks his tongue.

“Nope.”

You huff a bit, staring at your hands in your lap. “Well… there was that baby at the park.”

You feel Suna’s eyes on you, but you’re suddenly too wary to meet them. He doesn’t tell you you’re wrong though, so you continue. 

“And I said you can’t make an omelet.”

He laughs a bit again, and you know that wasn’t it either.

“Are you upset because I said that I didn’t think you could make a baby?” you ask, peeking up at him. “Rin, I’m borderline militant about taking my birth control. I obviously don’t think you’re impo—“

Rintarou tips his head up a little further, meeting your gaze. Caught in his stare, it’s suddenly like your words die before you can get them off the tip of your tongue. Slowly, he reaches out towards you, taking one of your fidgeting hands and holding it in his. His touch is warm now, in contrast to what it had been at the park. He lifts your hand up to his mouth.

Delicately, he kisses your fingertips. His lips brush against the digits, over your knuckles and up to your palms. He presses your hand to his cheek and looks at you with the most pitiful gaze. It makes your chest ache. 

“I don’t like it when you say that,” he says reticently. And for all Rintarou’s height and weight and sheer breadth, he sounds so impossibly small.

“Say what?” you ask him, and your voice is quiet too. Vulnerable.

He leans his flushing cheek into your hand, holding it to his face and closing his eyes as he nuzzles into your touch.

“That you wouldn’t have my baby,” he whispers, “that you don’t want it.”

You resist the urge to pull away. It’s an instinct you can’t explain: a desire to keep him at a distance, to always laugh things off, to make a joke out of very real feelings. 

“Because I do.”

You blink.

Suna opens his eyes and looks at you, and for the first time you see the very real, very not joking pain in his eyes.

“I want that with you.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re frozen. You stare at him, completely still, stunned by his sincere confession.

“What?” you manage to squeak out. 

Rintarou closes his eyes again, breathing out a little sigh. He pulls your hand from his cheek, folding your fingers down so they’re hooked in a loose fist around his thumb. He brings your hand to his lips, not quite a kiss but close enough to call it that anyway. 

“Not right now,” he murmurs into your knuckles, lips brushing against you as he speaks the words. “But someday.”

You’re still so shocked that you don’t know how to respond. He peers at you, hand still held to his lips, his eyes more resolved than they are wounded now. 

“And I want you to want that. But I don’t know how to make you want it too.”

Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, resonant and palpable. Heat has crawled all the way up your face now, and you’re fairly certain your hand has gone clammy, but Rintatou passes no comment even if it has.

“Do you think you could?” he asks you quietly. Sheepishly. Earnestly. “Could you want that? With me?” 

You pitch yourself forward suddenly, and Rintarou lets out a little grunt of surprise as the two of you topple back into the sofa. You hide your burning face in the crook of his neck, that smells like your body wash and shampoo but somehow so much better, clutching onto him like your life depends on it. Suna seems shocked for a moment as he finds himself flat on his back with your weight on top of him, and his body is stiff as he processes it. After a few beats of your too-loud, too-telling heart pass, he finally eases. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tightly to him.

“You’re so stupid,” you grumble, your eyes squeezing shut tightly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The genuine laughter that’s hiding just behind the words. He hugs you a little tighter. “Probably.”

You stay like that for a while, basking in the warmth of Rintarou’s body and the rhythm of his breath.

“You love me though,” he says quietly, “so that reflects pretty badly on you.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, and find him barely holding in a laugh. You can’t help but laugh with him. Can’t help but enjoy your favourite sound.

Rintarou scoops you up in his arms again, tugging you into his lap. He presses featherlight kisses to the corner of your jaw, and you fiddle with his long, lithe fingers. He sighs, but this time the sound is at ease. His damp hair tickles your face as he rests his forehead against your temple, nosing at your cheek.

“Hey, Rin?” you murmur as you run your thumb over the space between his first and second knuckle on his ring finger. You think about the kid you saw at the park in the fluffy jacket, and the besotted parents trailing along behind it.

He answers you with a content, if not slightly curious, hum. 

You turn your face towards him, and your noses brush. Rintarou’s lashes flutter as his gaze turns a little heavy-lidded. You can feel his breath on your lips, that’s how close he is. You inch forward until the space between you is almost completely gone.

And just before your lips meet, you smile.

“I do think we’ll make a cute baby.”

[stvolanis]

summer lovin’

PAIRINGS: JJ Maybank x priests daughter!OC

WARNINGS: foul language, religious imagery, unestablished relationship, JJ being JJ, mentions of marriage

NSFW WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, slight degradation, praise, pet names, biting, marking, overall cutesy sex

The heat was getting to JJ Maybank in more ways than one.

It started when his friend, who’s name he had no interest in remembering at a bonfire he attended with the rest of his friends, bet that he wouldn’t be able to fuck the priests daughter. Poor JJ didn’t even know who in the hell she was.

She was homeschooled, didn’t go to any parties and was rarely seen in town; having had all her food necessities at her little home-grown farm she lived on somewhere on figure eight. The only place people seen the jewel was every Sunday and Wednesday, bright and early, attending the local church’s 8AM service.

Now, jj by no means was a church man, but when this bet was laid upon him, best believe he was there bright and early in his best button up shirt, that just so happened to be his only button up shirt. His pants, perfectly starched to a crisp, and a cross pendant hung off of his necklace. The whole get-up, all for the priests daughter.

He was taken aback when he seen her for the first time. She was so different. Different form any of the other women he had ever met or seen on TV.

She was a small little thing. Dark brown hair braided with small pink ribbons on the end, and wispy bangs framed her porcelain-like face. Her eyes were a bright green, and if you were lucky, you’d be able to see them when they weren’t staring at her feet as if they were the most entertaining things she’d ever seen.

Her skin was pale, yet her face was scattered with disoriented freckles, almost from head to toe. Freckles covered her forehead to her nose, to her cheeks, down her neck and onto her shoulders that were revealed by her flowy sundress.

She followed her father around the busy church like a lost puppy, who had her mother hanging off of his arm like a proud trophy. Laylah, the priests daughter JJ was now so infatuated  with, only spoken when she was spoken to, and hid behind her family like the plague was near and out to get her.

He noticed that she played with the flowery rings on her finger when she was nervous, or when she grew bored from her parents talking to random, faceless people for too long. He’d watch Laylah tap her feet on the wood tile beneath her, creating a sense of beat before her father lightheartedly scolded her for being too loud, to which she’d mutter a small apology.

Laylah’s mother, who’s name was Christine, just so happened to be a part of Popes moms’ book club. JJ heard Mrs.Heyward call her christy when they’d laugh over tea, showing a sign of some familiarity. JJ was sure to intervene in Mrs.Heywards book club, much to Popes annoyance as he knew what was going on, with this new found knowledge if it meant getting closer to Laylah.

Laylah, on the other hand, had heard tales of JJ Maybank. All of them filled with vile rumors, yet nothing could have prepared her for the man that stood across the room so confidently.

His skin was tanned, probably from all the surfing he did when the waves were just right. She wondered if every man from the cut was as pretty as him. She shook her head from the thought with a blush coating her cheeks.

His hair was blonde, and messily grown out—yet it suited him. A strand fell onto his forehead, and her hand itched to reach up and fix it, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d never hear the end of it from either of her parents.

“That boy is such trouble, nowadays.” Her mother, Christine, would say at the dinner table. “Yknow, I heard he was caught stealing from the fish-mart, Isn’t that absurd?” She’d gossip to her husband, who nodded his head absent mindedly as he stared at his news paper. Laylah would just roll her green eyes.

JJ wasn’t an idiot. He knew when he was being eye fucked, so it was no surprise when that cocky smirk of his pulled at his lips when he caught her red handed eyeing him from head to toe.

He was aware of the female attention. Used to it, even—as cocky as it sounded. A quick fuck was all they ever were to him, and that’s all they’d ever stay. No one had ever come close to catching his interest, and JJ wanted to keep it that way, but you were making it so unbelievably hard for him.

He knew he’d have to settle down one day, but he had always dreaded the idea. Surprisingly enough, not because he’d have to be loyal, but because of the sheer commitment. He’d make a lousy, controlling, jealousy and possessive boyfriend…imagine how’d he’d be if he became someone’s fucking husband.

Laylah was different from the women who he was used to having one night stands with, and he he could tell this without even having to approach her.

She was sweet, pretty, quiet, innocent and obedient—but obedient in a way where he felt like she bit back her tongue a lot. Like she had a lot on her mind, but her voice was too weak to be heard. She was always expected to listen and do her school work at home, and do the chores her father assigned, but she longed to be a teenager.

She longed to go out and have fun, meet people and actually have friends. JJ knew she’d love the rest of the pogues, and she’d fit in just right. Laylah wanted to party, and maybe even drink. Maybe even meet a boy or a girl who peaked her interest—but she knew she never could. She laughed at the idea in her head. How silly of her to think such things?

This was her life. Being the priests quiet, obedient daughter.

JJ was like a breath of fresh air, as she was to him, too. They lived two completely different lives in two completely different worlds that finally decided to collide on the outskirts of a warn-down church.

When he watched her walk outside, he knew he’d be stupid not to follow suit.

She sat on the steps of walk way leading up to the church, and he watched like a creep as she pulled out a bubble-gun lollipop from her bag and stuff it into her mouth with a sigh. JJ smiled before making himself known by taking a seat next to her.

Her mouth fell agape for a moment, like a fish out of water. She didn’t know what she should say, or what she should do. Maybe she should run back inside, or run for the hills? No, that couldn’t be right. This wasn’t right. But it felt like it was.

“You’re a cute little thing, aren’t ya?” He chuckled out, fishing out one of his joints from his back pocket. She gawked as she watched him light it, bringing it to his mouth and taking an easy puff right outside the steps of Gods house.

“I-I’m not supposed to talk to you.” She admitted, looking down at the lollipop that embarrassing had fallen out of her mouth when she was gawking at him. He smiled, almost knowingly. “Whys that?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

“You’re a bad man, JJ. That’s what my momma said.” Laylah spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. JJ grabbed his shirt covered chest, feigning pain. “Ouch. Broke my cold heart, baby.” He said, smiling when he saw a ghost of a smile paint her pretty lips.

“You don’t seem bad.” She said after a while of silence, glancing over at him. He shook his head. “I’m the worst.” He admitted, though lightheartedly. She hummed in acknowledgement. “I think I’ll decide that for myself, mister.”

JJ smiled.

From that point on JJ Maybank was completely enraptured with the small girl.

He made sure to come to church every Sunday bright and early just to be able to see her, and when no one was looking, the two of them would sneak out and talk till the service was over and she had to leave with her parents.

She learned that the rumors of JJ being a thief were half-heartedly true. He admitted that he had stolen a few things here and there, but only when he really needed to. He trusted you enough to know about his troubles at home, and how stealing was the only way to make sure he was able to live comfortably.

Of course, it upset her. She hated that he had to go through what he did, and she knew he deserved better than what life had dealt him. She was glad he didn’t try to sugar coat it like everyone else seemed to when they spoke to her. Everyone treated Laylah like she was a child, and she just had to take it.

But JJ—he made her feel like a woman.

He listened to her when no one else cared to, and he comforted her in his own odd way with understanding. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, he listened to ever honey-covered word that slipped past her plump lips like they were law. He clung to every sentence, and every laugh.

He wanted to know how many more laughs she had. Besides her usual giggle, he wanted to count them all. He wanted to know what made her upset, and what kept her up at night. He wanted to scare every bad thing away. Chase away her worries and woes, just to see that smile he grew to adore so much.

What was once a bet was turning into so much more, and JJ didn’t know how to feel about it. He wasn’t used to the feeling of caring for someone ever since his mom. He didn’t want to hurt her, like he seemed to hurt everyone else. She was delicate and sensitive, and like Christine said, he was a bad man. No good for a girl like Laylah Moore.

Fear consumed JJ at one point when he caught himself daydreaming about a life he didn’t know he’d enjoy while in the middle of class.

The thought of coming home to Laylah after a hard day. The house smelling of his favorite food, roasting warm in the oven. She’d turn around with a sweet smile one her face, kissing all over him while letting out little “I missed yous” and “how was work?”. He could picture himself wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they swayed together, a slow song playing in the background.

He shook himself from the thought with furrowed brows. it was unfair. All of it. He knew she would never be able to be with a man like him—and it was a thought he’d have to shake out of his head.

But till you realized that, he’d have her in every way he could.

So there the both of them were, sat snug on Laylah’s pink sheets. Her legs were spread and trembling as JJs fingers slipped past the band of her underwear, working at her sensitive bud. His fingers teased at her entrance as her hand gripped on to his upper arm; nails digging into his muscle when he entered her knuckles deep.

Her mouth hung agape as wayward moans fell from her lips that were swollen from JJs relentless attacks on them. “Shh, honey. Know it feels good, but y’gotta be quiet, mama.” He cooed as he curled his finger, making her walls clamp around his fingers.

“Don’t want your daddy to find out that his daughters a whore for pogue dick, hm?” He mocked, his free hand coming up to wrap around the base of your throat tightly. Laylah whimpered, biting down on her lips to suppress her moans.

“Can I stuff this pretty pussy, baby? Hm? Want my cock to fill you up?” He asked, his breath leveled with your ear. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her head way thrown back onto his shoulder as she felt her end near. “S’wrong, JJ! have to wait f’marriage.” She slurred.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Gonna marry you anyway, pretty baby.” He said, not realizing what he said till Laylah’s doe eyes peered up at him. “Really, JJ?” She asked with hopeful eyes.

Fuck. How could he say no now?

“Course, s’long as you let me use this cunt whenever I want.” He replied, kissing the side of her cheek sloppily. Her bottom lip sat snug between her teeth, deep in thought. JJs fingers had long slipped away from her pussy, and his fingers that were still coated in her slick tenderly rubbed at her thighs.

“S’gonna hurt. That’s what my friend told me.” She muttered, doubts creased into a frown. JJ rolled his eyes. “Just gonna hurt for a second. It’ll feel good right after, promise.” He reassured. God he wanted to beat up the stupid friend who told her that. Making his life harder than it needed to be.

“Pinky promise, JJ?” She asked, holding out her manicured pinky. His interlocked with hers, and in a flash, JJs cock was aligned with her entrance—her juices spilling over and acting as a lubricant as he slid his cock between her folds.

His chest swelled with pride as he watched the way her eyes never left his cock, almost frightened. “Too big, JJ. S’not gonna fit.” She said, shaking her head back and forth. “I’ll fuckin’ make it fit.” He huffed out.

His fat tip prodded at Laylah’s entrance, teasingly almost before he plunged his cock inside of her with one harsh thrust. Her eyes widened and tears pricked her eyes as the stinging pain in her lower region began to become too much. It felt like she was being torn in half. “Take it out, JJ! Hurts too bad!” She cried out.

He wiped the tears from her eyes, kissing her trembling lips. “I know, shh, I know. Just give it a second, yeah? It’s okay, baby. I got you.” He whispered, kissing anywhere his lips could reach to distract her from the pain. She clung onto him; her nails digging into his back. A trophy he’d later wear when he goes out surfing with his friends.

His cock sat inside of her, and she could feel the twitch of his cock, and the way he pulsed inside of her. God, it took him everything in him to not start fucking her into oblivion. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he didn’t want to further hurt her.

So, he waited. And as soon as she breathed out a small whimper that sounded more of pleasure than pain, he slowly began to rock his hips into her. “See? S’not that bad, pretty baby.” He grunted out, throwing her legs over his shoulders and wrapping his arms around her thighs tightly.

Her mind felt fuzzy with bliss as his tip kissed her cervix. Her hand reached to cup the side of JJs cheek, and he froze for just a moment. Her touch was tender, and so fucking full of love. The love he craved but was to afraid to accept. But he’d accept it for her. He’d do anything for her.

He melted into her touch, and his lips crashed down onto hers as he began to pick up his pace again. Their lips molded together perfectly, and nothing could prepare JJ for the words that slipped past her lips next. “I love you.” She said, but it was barely above a whisper.

He didn’t hesitate with his response. “I love you too.” He said, digging his face into the crook of her neck, planting a soft kiss. Laylah’s hands tangled in his hair as her legs wrapped around his waist, securing his position inside of her as she felt her stomach tighten.

“I feel weird, JJ.” She moaned, her head lulled to the side as he smothered her neck with kisses, and laid fresh hickies on her breasts. “Just let it go, baby. Squirt f’me. Know you can, baby, give it to me.” He moaned out against her, his thumb traveling down to play with her clit.

“O-Oh God!” She moaned out, the grip she had on his hair slightly tightening, almost painfully, but JJ didn’t care. He rather enjoyed it. “Not God, sweetheart. Me. Say it. Say my fuckin’ name.” He urged, biting down on her nipple painfully.

“JJ!” She moaned out again and again like it was a prayer, but was muffled by his hand clasping around her mouth to quiet her noises. She was wrapped so tightly around him, and he just barely managed to pull out when he reached his peak.

JJ’s cum painted across Laylah’s lower stomach, almost beautifully against her pale skin. Her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as she watched JJ jerk himself off a few more times, his cock releasing a few more drops from his mushroom tip.

He looked so pretty like this. Mouth hung open as he panted, and the small mound of blonde hair that sat atop his cock was drenched in her fluids. His hair matted to his forehead from sweat, and that boyish smile dancing on his face as he moved the hair out of her face.

It felt right now. Laylah was no longer ashamed of her feelings, nor was she afraid of what figure eight would say when she would bring JJ along with her as a personal plus one at an important meeting of her mothers.

Before, she was living, yet she never really felt alive. She drug herself out day by day, like an endless cycle of disparity and orders. She hated getting out of bed, as there was never anything for her to look forward to throughout the day. Nothing to keep her going. She was just there.

And as she laid on top of his chest, tracing stars over the muscle of his arm, she felt content. she felt happy. She felt free. And most of all, she felt alive.

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[woah-were-halfway-there]

Just What I Needed

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: here is the official rewritten and revamped first part of JWIN 🥹 it’s Carson and Auston discovering they’re expecting again and has been changed quite a bit. Hope you enjoy!

~*~

It was during a late evening in November when the thought of telling Auston what Carson spent the last few days running through her mind.

The two of them were at home, cuddled up on the couch together with one almost empty glass of wine, and one full one sitting on the coffee table nearby. Mia had fallen asleep fairly early that night, still adjusting to the time change of only being home from Sweden. So Carson and Auston decided to make the most of this chill Wednesday evening at home before he was set to leave the following afternoon with the team as they travelled to Chicago and then Pittsburgh. He wouldn’t be back until late that Saturday night.

At first, they were going to watch a movie together. But after Auston poured those two glasses of wine and the two of them engaged in a deep conversation about life, a movie wasn’t needed for they were both just so content with the others' presence.

It was peaceful. Frank was asleep in Mia’s room with her and Matthew had called it an early night, retreating to the basement after helping Carson clean up once they all finished eating dinner and Auston was upstairs bathing Mia. So, it was just Carson and Auston hanging out in their sweats relaxing together.

Carson wasn’t sure how or when she ended up in the position of almost laying directly on top of Auston, with her head resting against his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around her as Gloria by The Lumineers played softly from the TV and she watched their Christmas tree twinkle over in the corner by the big window, but she wasn’t too mad about either.

Everything about that moment seemed perfect, but then Carson glanced back to that full glass of wine.

There was a reason she wasn’t drinking and a huge part of her wondered if Auston had noticed. It was likely that he did but didn’t feel the need to bring it up or pressure her into giving him an answer, which made Carson feel a lot better about the thoughts running through her mind.

See, there was a reason she wasn’t drinking. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, because realistically, she wasn’t one to pass up wine, like ever. But she had been refraining from drinking it because there was something she just had to be sure about before she did.

She’d been feeling off as of late. It started shortly before they left for Sweden. There were some days Carson wouldn’t have much of an appetite, and others that she would have trouble getting out of bed because she just felt so crappy.

Auston noticed, naturally. He always did and became a little concerned about the upcoming trip if Carson wasn’t feeling well. Carson, however, insisted she was fine. She focused on powering through whatever she was feeling because she wanted to be there, supporting her husband in Stockholm and experiencing something so unforgettable. Carson also was determined to not let a little illness get to her because there she had a very sassy little girl whom she loved more than anything in the world and needed her mama.

Mia was roughly two months away from being two years old, which was absolutely crazy to Carson. Time had flown by and earlier that day while out on a walk with her, Auston and Frank, she found herself thinking back to when she found out she was pregnant with her daughter in the first place.

Finding out they were expecting Mia was an entire whirlwind of an experience. Carson was ridiculously sick and hadn’t even considered the thought of being pregnant, but after talking with Ema about the symptoms she had, Carson knew it was a possibility. Later that same evening, was when she found out she was going to be a mom.

Remembering that while hunched over the toilet in the bathroom of their hotel in Stockholm, waiting for a wave of nausea to pass, was when Carson started to think she might be pregnant again. The signs were there, her period was late. The more Carson thought about it, the more she became convinced that’s what was going on.

Except, they were in Sweden.

Being in Stockholm was an incredible experience, but it was also hectic. There was so much going on, that Carson barely had any time to just chill and process everything. As soon as the thought of being pregnant again crept into her mind, she wanted to tell Auston. While their group was out for dinner and she hardly ate and mainly just sipped on her water, others picked up on something being off.

Steph mentioned it, Mitch did too and of course, so did Auston. However, he didn’t want to make a scene about it because he knew Carson wouldn’t want that.

During dinner, when Mia got fussy, Carson was quick to excuse her and Mia to go outside and get some fresh air, but Auston wasn’t far behind them. Not only did he want to help with Mia and make her feel better, but he needed to check in on Carson too. They weren’t outside for long before Willy showed up and took Mia from them saying he’d hang out with her and they could go back inside.

Carson tried to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but before she could, Willy was already wandering off with Mia and she was gradually getting in better spirits being with one of her favourite guys.

Before going back inside, Auston checked in on Carson. He said how he noticed she wasn’t eating and how that did concern him which made Carson feel so guilty. She wanted to tell him everything about how she was feeling and that she suspected she may be pregnant again, but she didn’t want to get too ahead of herself. Maybe it was an illness after all and it was easy for her to go along with that.

She should’ve told him and she knew that, but she just couldn’t. The trip was about the Leafs and Carson’s nagging thoughts told her if she did mention that to Auston, she’d be making it about her. She didn’t want to do that, so she held off.

As the days went on, Carson became rather low energy and the morning sickness didn’t subside. She became more convinced that what she suspected was true and she was indeed pregnant.

It killed her not knowing, but it killed her even more that she still hadn’t communicated any of this with Auston. Carson felt terrible but was so set on waiting until they were back in Toronto to tell him. She just hadn’t found the right time, but what better time than when she and Auston are having a relaxing evening at home together?

She had to do it, she couldn’t wait any longer.

“Hey, Aus,” Carson started and lifted her head off his chest so that she could look at him as she spoke. “Can I ask you something?”

It wasn’t until Carson was facing Auston that she noticed his eyes were shut, or just how content and peaceful he was lying there with her. I instantly made her feel worse for disturbing him.

Slowly though, Auston’s eyes fluttered open and he gave Carson a tiny smile. “Of course.”

“Uh, you know what? Nevermind. It’s alright. You’re resting, we can talk about it another time.”

“Bub,” Auston said and gave his wife a pointed glance before squeezing her side, making her squirm. “I can assure you that talking isn’t going to wear me out. What’s on your mind?”

“I know,” Carson sighed. “It’s just that it’s not exactly an easy topic to discuss. Pretty serious, actually. And, I don’t know, this isn’t how I planned talking about it either.”

“Carson. You can talk to me about anything at any time.”

He then leaned forward to peck Carson’s lips, making her melt on the inside a bit, but increasing her nerves.

“I- would you ever want to have another baby one day?”

At that, Auston raised his eyebrows, indicating how that was not a question he expected so out of the blue. “I mean, you know the answer. We’ve briefly talked about more kids in the future and I love the thought, but that’s not really for me to decide. It’s your body, and I don’t know. That’s something we can decide together regardless of what I want.”

“Good answer,” Carson told him with a smile as he winked at her.

“Why? Is that something you’ve been thinking about?”

“Kind of.”

“Do you want to have another baby?” He questioned while shifting so he could sit a little more upright, still careful to not shift Carson’s position in the process, though.

“I don’t hate the thought,” Carson stated. “At all. We lucked out with our little sass queen and, god, I just love her so much. Can you imagine her being a big sister?”

“That’s crazy to think about,” Auston chuckled. “But yes, I could see it. And I mean, I grew up with siblings. I’d love for my kids to have that too.”

“Mia is just such a people person already, I could see her loving having a younger sibling. Frank probably wouldn’t mind either.”

“As long as he gets his treats and belly rubs I’m pretty sure Frank will be fine with just about anything,” Auston replied, making Carson smile. “So, yes, you would like to have more kids one day?”

“I would,” Carson told him firmly. “I just don’t know when a good time would be like Mia isn’t even two yet. What is a good time gap between having children? There’s just so many questions I have.”

“Well, I think with our current life situations, there is no such thing as a bad time to have another baby,” Auston reasoned, and Carson knew he had a good point. “But we don’t have to figure that out right now. We can just go with the flow and see what happens.”

“See that’s the thing,” Carson started and took a deep breath. “There’s a reason I wanted to ask you that question.”

“And why is that?” He asked, looking at her softly but Carson could tell he was eagerly waiting for her response. So, she took a deep breath and finally shared what had been on her mind as of late.

“I think I might be pregnant again.”

It took Auston a moment to process what Carson had just said and wrap his head around the concept entirely. When she brought up the topic of having another baby one day, he didn’t think she meant right then. But at the same time, he didn’t care because there was a possibility he might have another little bean running around soon, and he loved that thought.

“Are you serious?” He finally breathed out and noticed just how anxious Carson seemed.

“I- yeah. I haven’t been physically ill like I was when we found out I was pregnant with Mia, but I’ve had quite a bit of morning sickness. Or at least that’s what I think it is. I don’t know, I feel like there’s just something going on with my body, and I mean, there’s still the likelihood that I’m not pregnant again, but, my period is late and-.”

“Hey, you don’t have to justify yourself,” Auston spoke up when Carson began rambling. She was thankful for how well he was handling what she said, but Carson still felt overly emotional about it as she shifted away from him and started fiddling with the throw blanket that covered them as a way to keep herself from crying. However, it didn’t take long for Auston to notice what she was doing. “Babe, come here. Talk to me, please.”

Auston sat upright and moved to pull Carson close to him again. Once his arm was around her waist, though, he hesitated because he wasn’t sure if she wanted her space or not, but when she didn’t move away, he took that as a sign to continue.

“How long have you been thinking this?”

“Since we were in Sweden,” Carson blubbered. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it wasn’t the time. And I know that wasn’t a fair decision for me to make on my own because you are my partner and you deserve to know but, I just, I just couldn’t, Auston. I know you and I know that’s all you would’ve been thinking about during that trip but I didn’t want it to be.”

“As much as I wish you told me then so you wouldn’t have to keep this all on yourself,” Auston started softly. “I’m not going to be upset with you about it, Carse. But, I can tell you’re upset. What’s got you feeling this way, beautiful? This is good news.”

“I just need to know, Auston,” Carson whispered as she turned to face him again, and he didn’t miss a beat by reaching up to wipe away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. “I need to know if I’m pregnant so bad, but at the same time, I don’t want to.”

“What do you mean?”

Carson sighed.

“I hate not knowing why I’m feeling the way that I am. If I’m not pregnant, then what’s wrong with me? And it’s also so much more than that too. The thought of having another baby right now is terrifying. What if something happens while you’re away or I just struggle because you’re not here? Remember how stressed we were about that kind of thing with Mia? Sure it all worked out, but the thought still makes me nervous, and the timing would be completely different, seeing as it’s November. You were in the off-season for pretty much the entire first half of my pregnancy last time, I had you with me when I felt like I needed it most. I don’t know, I feel like I’m getting so worked up now, but I worry about these things, Aus.”

“I understand,” Auston nodded and looked away thoughtfully, the expression on his face changing. But Carson knew that look, he was internally blaming himself over what she had said, but she refused to let him. “I’m sorry you feel stressed about this and that I can’t always be here. I wish I could, Carson. More than anything.”

“I know you do, and that’s enough, Auston. You’re enough.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it, though. I feel like I miss so many things. Mia is growing up insanely fast, and I’m not always here for it all. Who’s to say it won’t be the same or worse when we do have another baby?”

“You’re not missing anything, though. As much as I too wish you could be here all the time, you’re doing what you love. Mia and I will always be cheering you on as you do that too. Just because you’re away sometimes doesn’t mean Mia is going to forget about you or love you any less. You know damn well how much of a daddy’s girl she is. She can’t contain her excitement when you come home from a road trip because she loves you so much. I just know that if or when we have any more kids, it’ll be the same. You’re an incredible dad, Auston. I’m so lucky to have you as my partner in all of this.”

At that, Auston smiled before shaking his head.

“I thought I was the one trying to make you feel better.”

Carson chuckled.

“That’s kinda how we work, huh? Always levelling the other out in some way.”

“Always,” he replied before leaning forward to kiss her softly again. “We just get each other like that. Which is also how I know there’s something else that’s bothering you. Come on, spill.”

“You’re very observant, Matthews,” Carson mumbled while rolling her eyes.

“Please, you find it endearing.”

“I find it annoying,” she corrected, making him scoff as she chuckled at his reaction. “I’m kidding. But yeah, I guess there is something still bothering me, but it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Try me,” Auston replied, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“It’s just, yes, there are things that make me feel uneasy about the possibility of being pregnant, but as I said earlier, I really would love to have more kids. I love thinking about Mia being a big sister one day, and the thought of growing our family together. But what if right now isn’t the time to do so? Maybe there never will be a right time.”

“I don’t think the timing is an issue,” Auston stated and began tracing over Carson’s knuckles with his thumb. “I can’t think of us having more kids being at a bad time, ever. It could be now, or it could be months or years down the road, and I’d still be happy. But only if you’re ready, of course.”

“I think I am,” Carson told him honestly. “Which is also stressing me out because I want to be pregnant again. It feels weird to say out loud, but yeah, I’m hoping that I am pregnant, however, maybe I’m not Auston. I have this gut feeling that I am, but I’m afraid I’m getting my hopes up. A lot of people struggle with getting pregnant, and we can’t assume we won’t either just because we’ve already lucked out with our little girl.”

Carson stopped and wiped away a tear she could feel that was about to break free again. Auston was quiet, but after a moment of processing what she just said, he finally spoke up again.

“You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“More than I probably should be. I just really care about it, maybe a little too much.”

“There’s no such thing as caring too much,” he responded and nudged Carson’s shoulder so she’d look at him again. “You’re just full of so much love, and that’s fine. It’s part of what makes you an amazing mother to our daughter. But, regardless, we’re in this together. Although there may be some bumps along the way, everything is going to be fine. This may be one of those bumps, but it also might be what we’re hoping for. Pregnant or not, though, we’re going to be ok, Carson. I promise.”

Carson was full-on sobbing by that point. Auston always knew what to say when she needed to get out of her head a little bit, and this situation was no exception. She wasn’t crying because she was upset or frustrated, she was just so damn emotional having conversations like this one, but so thankful to have Auston help her get through them.

Once Auston realized Carson was crying again, he was quick to pull her into his embrace and hold onto her tightly. He didn’t say anything, just let her get those emotions out while gently rubbing her back and placing soft pecks on her head. After a minute or so went by, he began reassuring her and telling her how much he loved her all without letting go. It was no wonder how, after that, Carson eventually started feeling better.

“Thank you, Auston, I needed that,” she told him as she moved away, sniffling and wiping away any stray tears.

“Of course, I’m always going to be here for you, bub. Don’t feel like you have to bottle up anything, ok? We’re a team.”

“The best one,” Carson stated before letting out a shaky breath. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Auston replied while tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “So much. We’re going to be fine.”

“As long as we have each other.”

“Exactly,” he nodded with a smile.

Carson returned the smile before shrugging a little bit. “I don’t know how I’m going to wait until Sunday when you’re home again to take some tests and know for sure.”

“I could run to the pharmacy now and get some if you’d like,” he suggested. “Then we know. And depending on what they say, you can make an appointment with your doctor, and we can go from there.”

“Auston, I’m not going to make you go buy pregnancy tests for me,” Carson told him and shook her head.

“You’re not making me do anything, I’m offering to get them. It’ll take me no more than 20 minutes to go get some and come back. Would you feel better knowing tonight than waiting?”

“Well, yeah, but-.”

“Then I’ll do it, Carson, I’m sure I can manage to buy some pregnancy tests,” he retorted. “It’s not late, bub. It’s nothing for me to do. You stay here and relax, alright? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. But, I won’t get the tests if you don’t want to take them.”

“No, I do,” Carson started. “I want to see what they say at least. I just didn’t want to do it alone. That’s why I figured we wait until Sunday.”

“You’re not going to be alone. I’ll go right now and we can do this together. Deal?”

Carson smiled and looked down at his extended hand, chuckling at how he was going to make her shake in agreement with this game plan. But regardless, she took his hand and shook it; feeling even more nervous and excited than before.

“Deal.”

“Perfect,” he replied then pecked her lips once again before she rolled to the side and he got out from under her. “I’ll be right back.”

Carson watched as Auston rushed out of the living room and into the foyer where he fumbled to put on his shoes and a jacket. She tried to stop herself from laughing, but it was hard not to. He was excited and it made all soft and mushy on the inside.

“I love you!”

“I love you, too,” Carson chuckled as he blew her a kiss before rushing down the hallway to the garage. He was quiet making his way to the garage, but the noise of the garage door opening was a startle and something neither of them accounted for in their excitement.

“Oh, no,” Carson whispered to herself knowing what was about to come. Soon enough, she heard a bark from upstairs. Frank wasn’t one to go crazy with barking unless he felt threatened, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to bark at noises that startled him. It also wasn’t uncommon for the garage door to do just that, which led to the sounds of shuffling and groaning of a little girl who had just accidentally been woke up.

“Daddy?” Mia’s voice sounded through the monitor, sounding so sleepy. “Mama.”

“Should’ve seen that one coming,” Carson whispered to herself as she got up off the couch and hurried upstairs to go check on Mia. When she entered Mia’s room, unsurprisingly, Mia was sat up holding Whaley in one arm and knuckling at her eyes tiredly with the opposite hand. “Hi, sweet girl.”

Mia looked at her with a pout and then let out a dramatic huff, showing quite the resemblance to her father when he gets woken up unexpectedly.

“Fwank bawked, mommy.”

“He did bark, didn’t he? And it woke you up.”

“Yeah,” Mia replied and immediately crawled onto Carson’s lap once she sat at the edge of the bed.

“Oh, honey,” Carson said while Mia slumped against her chest and let out a big yawn. She then started gently rubbing Mia’s back as a way to soothe her back to sleep. “Why don’t we lay back down, baby? I’ll stay with you.”

“Daddy comin’?” Mia asked, not moving from her spot and letting out a sigh of contentment as Carson started playing with her curls.

“Daddy just ran to the store real quick, but he’ll be back soon. Now let’s lay back down.”

“I see him.”

“Mia,” Carson started to reason, but stopped when Mia leaned back to look up at her with those big brown eyes that were her absolute weakness. Something both Mia and Auston tended to use to their advantage. “You want to go downstairs and wait for your daddy to get home, don’t you?”

Mia just blinked in response, then giggled.

“You are your father’s daughter.”

And with that, Carson got up off the bed and carried Mia and Whaley downstairs to the living room, with Frank in tow, of course. The two girls got curled up on the couch together and Carson put on the sleepytime episode of Bluey for them to watch while they waited for Auston. Normally, Carson and Auston tried to refrain from screens when it was bedtime for Mia, but there were sometimes exceptions and this night was one of them.

Realistically, it was only 8:30pm, which was around Mia’s usual bedtime. Again, with the time change from travelling to Sweden, Mia’s bedtime routine had been off since getting home. She fell asleep almost right after dinner, hardly making it through bathtime then absolutely crashing shortly after 6:30pm. Carson knew Mia be up for a little while, but given how tired Mia was, there was no way she’d be up for very long once Auston was home.

Carson began gently scratching Mia’s head with her manicured nails, something she knew Mia loved. It was obvious Mia was content with the little sigh that left her mouth as she cuddled closer to her mom, eyes still fixated on the TV. Carson smiled as she looked down at Mia, then suddenly felt herself getting emotional over the thought of her sweet little girl potentially being a big sister. The thought hit Carson like a tidal wave and she started feeling all types of things, however, something kept her from getting too deep into her thoughts.

A door opened and closed from the kitchen and soft footsteps soon followed. It was too soon for Auston to be home yet and the only door in the kitchen that wasn’t the sliding glass ones leading to the back deck was the one that led to the basement. So there was only one other person it could be.

“Hey,” Matthew greeted as stepped into the living room. His hair was damp, indicating he showered recently and he too was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. A common attire in the Matthews household. “Heard some commotion up here, just figured I’d come up and check to make sure everything’s ok.”

“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry if we were loud,” Carson said and sniffled, internally cursing herself for not realizing she started crying. But, she tried playing it off. “Auston just ran to the store to get something for me and, well, little miss over here woke up in the process.”

“Matty!” Mia greeted as excitedly as her tired little self could.

“Hi, Mia,” Matthew chuckled then stepped into the living room and in front of the couch so he could crouch down to pet Frank but also be at eye level with Mia. “Are you giving your mom a tough time about going back to sleep?”

“Nooooo,” Mia giggled. “Daddy home soon.”

“Ah, yes, everything is about Daddy,” Carson teased, making Matthew laugh as he glanced at her, his expression falling when he noticed she had tears in her eyes.

“Carson, are you alright?” He asked, concern written all over his features.

“I’m fine!” Carson assured and quickly wiped away the tears welled in her eyes before Mia noticed. Matthew picked up on what she was doing, trying to conceal her tears from Mia. So, he didn’t press it but he gave her a pointed look as he moved from his crouching position and onto the couch on the other side of Mia. “I promise. You don’t have to worry about me, but thank you for checking in.”

Carson gave him a genuine smile. Matthew was so sweet and considerate, she truly loved having him stay with them. She’d gotten to know him a lot better in Arizona during the summer as he trained with Auston. He was a great fit in their household and Mia adored him.

“Carson-.”

“It’s nothing bad, Matty. Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Auston would not be happy knowing you’re upset.”

“I know, and that’s why we don’t need to tell him,” Carson responded and looked at him with a wide-eyed expression, silently pleading that this stayed between them.

Matthew let out a breath of defeat, then nodded. He seemed like he was going to drop it but still wanted to say something. However, before he could, the garage door opening sounded and they both knew Auston was home.

“Daddy!” Mia said quietly, but excitedly. She didn’t move from her spot, though, because she knew she didn’t have to. Auston would come to her.

Even Frank knew what that noise meant and didn’t bark this time, instead, he got up and trotted out of the living room, assumedly headed down the hallway to the door that led to the garage. A moment later, that same door opened and closed.

“Oh, hi Frank,” Auston greeted quietly and Carson could picture him taking time to pet their Goldendoodle before coming further into the house. “What’re you doing down here, hmm? I thought you were upstairs with Mia. Let’s go find Carson.”

Carson smiled listening to him, then glanced down at Mia, who was still focused on her show.

“He’s gonna be in for a surprise when he sees you awake, little girl,” Carson whispered as she gently pushed Mia’s curls back away from her face, then leaned down to peck the top of her head.

She and Matthew then glanced at each other while they listened to Auston’s footsteps approach, then he soon appeared.

“Carse, I wasn’t sure which one to get so I got multiple,” Auston stated as he walked into the room holding three different pregnancy test boxes, but halted once he noticed it wasn’t just his wife in the living room anymore. Carson’s hands immediately covered her face in embarrassment at the boxes he was waving around. “Woah.”

“Hi, dada,” Mia greeted all smiley as she leaned forward so she could see him.

“Hi, baby girl. And what are you doing up?”

Mia just giggled in response while Carson peaked between her fingers to watch the scene unfold. Auston looked so puzzled at Mia being awake, then a flash of surprise when he saw it wasn’t just his girls and Matthew was there too.

“Clear Blue,” he mouthed, squinting at one of the boxes Auston held before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh, OH! Wait, are you two?”

Carson felt her face going so red, then groaned as she flopped back against the couch, earning a questioning glance from Mia.

“We don’t know,” Carson said eventually. “I, I think so, yeah. But we’re not sure. That’s why Auston ran to the store to get some tests, so we could know.”

“Yeah, surprise, I guess,” Auston spoke up then made a face that resembled the grimacing face emoji. Then his eyes fell on Mia again and he looked like he was pondering something. “Did I wake her up?”

“The garage,” Auston, Carson and Matthew said simultaneously as Auston put all the pieces together.

“Gawage,” Mia repeated as she leaned back against the couch again and let out another big yawn, still unbothered. Carson couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips as she looked down at Mia again, but soon her gaze was back on Auston.

“You got three different tests?”

“I got five different tests, actually,” he replied, putting the three boxes he held in one hand before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out two more. He then took off his jacket and hung it up before making his way around the couch and sitting next to Carson.“There were so many different brands and types. I kinda decided just to wing it and hope for the best.”

Carson’s heart swelled with so much love for the man sitting before her. She could feel her eyes beginning to water again, but she played it off as she let out a small laugh and shook her head.

“Thank you,” she told him softly as they made eye contact again. “I appreciate you going to get those for me.”

“Of course. Anything for you, bub. You know I don’t mind.”

Carson smiled again, but then her attention snapped back to Mia as she let out a groan then laid her head on the pillow next to her and snuggled Whaley closer to her. Carson and Auston then looked at each other and chuckled, they were thinking the same thing about their dramatic toddler.

“We need to get her back to sleep,” Carson stated and Auston nodded in agreement.

“For our sanity and hers, yes,” he replied, leaning over to tap Mia’s arm. “Mini, why don’t we go back upstairs to bed?”

“Bwuey, daddy,” Mia said as she shook her head and pointed to the TV. Her episode of Bluey was still on and she was determined to finish watching it. “Mommy cuddow?”

Carson and Auston glanced at each other again and considered their options regarding Mia being awake and Carson somehow sneaking away to drink some water and then take the pregnancy tests, despite Mia wanting her to lay down and cuddle with her.

“Maybe we should wait till morning, Aus,” Carson sighed and glanced down at the boxes. “I don’t think it’s the right time.”

Auston nodded in understanding and went to respond, but another voice spoke up before he could.

“Mia, can I watch Bluey with you?” Matthew asked as he scooted toward her.

Mia’s face lit up at the idea and she soon sat back up and moved the pillow away before patting the now-empty space so he’d sit there. “Yeah, Matty!”

Matthew smiled as he got situated in the spot next to her and Mia wasn’t long in leaning against him and letting out a sigh of contentment as she looked back at the TV. Matthew then looked at Carson and Auston and spoke up again.

“You two go do what you need to do, together. I’ll hang with Mia until you’re done, but take your time.” Then he lowered his voice into a whisper that only they would hear. “Maybe she’ll fall back asleep.”

Carson truly appreciated the offer, but she didn’t want Matthew to feel like he had to babysit. It wasn’t the first time he’d watched Mia for them since moving in. He hung out with Mia often if he didn’t have anything else going on and the two had a great relationship. He’d even talked to Carson and Auston about wanting to introduce his girlfriend to them but especially Mia when she came for a visit in the new year. But, still, Carson didn’t want him to feel like watching Mia was a trade-off for them letting him stay there or anything of the sort.

She was about to tell him he didn’t need to do that, but Auston squeezing her knee in reassurance prevented her from doing so.

“That’d be really helpful,” Auston stated, then stood up from the couch. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Matthew assured them with a smile.

Auston nodded in thanks then looked down at Carson and smirked. “Come on, you.”

Carson looked up at him and shook her head slightly before standing up as well. She didn’t say anything as she took two of the pregnancy tests from Auston’s right hand and placed her left hand there instead, squeezing his hand before looking back at Matthew.

“Thank you,” she said, then looked back at Auston with and a small smile. “Lead the way.”

No questions came from Mia as her parents made their way around the couch and out of the living room. With how she was fighting so hard to keep her eyes open, they didn’t expect her to put up much of a fuss about them leaving.

Before going upstairs, Carson and Auston stopped in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water for Carson to drink before she took the tests. Then they headed up to their master bedroom together.

They sat on the bed together, chatting about how their lives could change depending on what those tests said while Carson sipped her water. Despite still feeling anxious, talking it all through with Auston made Carson feel a lot better and she was able to fully admit how she was hoping for a positive result on the tests.

About twenty minutes after Carson finished her water, she was ready to head into the ensuite with the tests and see what they said.

“I’ll be right here,” Auston told Carson as he gently tipped her chin up to look at him before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her lips. He knew she wanted her space as she took the tests.

“I’ll come get you once I’m done and we can look at them together,” Carson responded then pecked his lips again before standing up off the bed. She then took a deep breath, then headed into the ensuite and did what she needed to do.

About ten minutes later, Carson left the bathroom with her phone in hand and a timer set. She remained quiet as she entered the bedroom and crawled into the spot beside where Auston was leaning against the headboard on their bed. He didn’t say anything, just pulled Carson closer and let her cuddle into his side, knowing all that needed to be said would happen in the next few minutes or so. He watched as she kept tapping her phone screen to life, anxiously counting down the seconds to when the two of them could go see what each of the tests said.

Carson was content just laying there with the love of her life that after a few moments, she did stop constantly checking the timer on her phone and just enjoyed being with him. She wasn’t sure how much time passed and could feel herself dozing off with how comfortable she was, but then the alarm went off.

They both jumped slightly and Carson scrambled to cancel the alarm so the noise would subside, then took a deep breath and looked up at Auston.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Carson spoke quietly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of them got off the bed and headed to the ensuite hand in hand.

Carson had left the door open so they could easily see the four tests she took sitting where she lined them up and upon seeing them again, she felt a familiar anxious knot form in her stomach. She saved the fifth one on purpose for if she needed further confirmation of whether she was indeed pregnant or not, and after one final glance at Auston, she stepped into the room first to see what each one said.

After glancing down at the first test, Carson’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. There was no plus or minus symbol, no message on the tiny screen indicating what she wanted to know so badly, no nothing. Without even thinking, she reached out and grabbed Auston’s hand, hoping for some reassurance because she could already feel her hope slipping away, but then he spoke up.

“Bub, look at the other three.”

So, she did, and sure enough, each one stated that yes, she was pregnant.

“Oh, my God,” Carson gasped as a sob involuntarily left her mouth. She immediately moved a hand up to cover her mouth and looked at Auston with watery eyes before he pulled her in for a tight hug. “We’re having another baby. I- oh, my God.”

Carson was full-on sobbing while Auston chuckled at her words before moving away so that he could put both hands gently on the sides of her neck and kiss her. He had happy tears in his eyes.

“Everything’s going to be ok,” he promised then placed his forehead against hers. “We’re going to be parents again, Carse.”

“I’ve never been a mom of two before,” Carson blubbered, then let Auston pull her into his embrace again.

“I know, bub,” Auston soothed while rubbing his hand up and down her back. “But, we’re going to figure it out. We always do.”

Carson couldn’t tell with how her face was buried against the fabric of the hoodie Auston wore, but he was smiling so damn wide. He was ecstatic and instinctively wanted to know more. How far along was she? When would the doctor predict her due date would be? And most importantly, was the baby healthy?

Auston had so many questions, but he was aware that it wasn’t the time to ask them. He knew this was going to be hers and his little secret for the time being. Although he was content with that, he was just so excited and couldn’t wait to see how the rest would all play out.

The two of them stood there for a moment, relishing in the news and not letting go of one another. Eventually, Carson moved away and Auston gently cupped her cheeks, looking at her with so much love and adoration before they both laughed at how emotional they were being.

“I love you, Auston Matthews,” Carson stated firmly, acting as if he’d ever forget.

“And I love you, Carson,” he replied. “I love that we can make it through anything in this life together.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t you dare say that.”

Carson didn’t argue, instead just wrapped her arms around Auston’s middle and crashed against his chest again. Auston started playing with her hair and the two stood there in silence for a few moments before they heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Mia,” they said in unison as they leaned away and looked at each other with wide eyes, suddenly remembering Matthew was watching her. The two of them moved away from the other and Auston followed Carson as she beelined out of the bathroom, through their bedroom and into the hallway before stopping.

At the other end of the hall, Matthew rounded the corner holding Whaley and a very asleep Mia in his arms. Frank was right there too.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted and came to a stop once he noticed Carson and Auston standing there. “She passed out about fifteen minutes ago so I figured I’d bring her up to bed. You two alright?”

Matthew wasn’t prying, just asking a genuine question to two people he cared for, which Carson and Auston knew. The two of them glanced at each other and then smiled when they realized they were thinking the same thing about sharing the news with him.

“Yeah, we’re alright,” Carson assured as she and Auston looked back at Matthew, then she took a breath. “But, there’s going to be a new addition to the house sometime between now and next season.”

“No way,” Matthew smiled widely. “That’s amazing. Congratulations, you two!”

“Thanks, man,” Auston said, smiling too as he walked towards Matthew and took Mia from his hold. “Here, I got her.”

Matthew gently passed Mia over, making sure she didn’t get woken up and smiled as she nuzzled closer to her dad even in her sleep. Then he glanced between Auston and Carson.

“Wait, I’m the only other person who knows, aren’t I?”

“You’re part of this household, so it seems fitting that you are,” Carson told him with a grin. “We’ll figure out how to tell our families and friends after I see my doctor and figure out all the details. Then we’ll go from there about everyone else knowing.”

She was referring to the media and fans as everyone else. Matthew knew that and respected the privacy they understandably would want during a time like this.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he promised.

“Hope you’re prepared for the absolute fit Mitch is going to have knowing that you knew before he did,” Auston said to Matthew, making all three adults laugh.

“I’ve been telling him being Carson’s twin has nothing on me being the one living in your guys’ basement!”

“Oh, I can imagine he takes that statement very personally,” Carson chuckled and shook her head. After a brief moment, Matthew spoke up again.

“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy the rest of your night together,” he said and handed Auston Whaley as well. “Congrats again. Tone, what time are we heading out for practice in the morning?”

“Probably around 10,” Auston told him.

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll have breakfast ready before you go,” Carson chimed in. “Let me know if there’s anything particular you’d like.”

“You know I’m not going to complain about any of the food you cook me, Carse,” Matthew told her. “It’s always so good.”

“Kiss ass,” Auston teased, earning a scowl from Matthew and an eye roll from Carson.

“Have a good night, Matty. Thanks again for watching Mia,” Carson said and Matthew assured them it was no problem before heading back downstairs.

“You go get ready for bed,” Auston spoke up again. “I’ll put Mia in her bed then I’ll be right there.”

“Ok, sounds like a plan.”

Auston then dipped out of sight and into Mia’s room and Carson was about to go back into their bedroom, but stopped herself when she remembered they’d left lights and the TV on downstairs.

She scurried past Mia’s room to the top of the stairs but didn’t have to go down them when she heard Matthew walking around the main level. She could tell that he was turning all the lights off before going back downstairs for the night and smiled at the thoughtful action.

Without having to go downstairs, Carson made her way back to the master bedroom. Once inside, she changed into a pair of silky pyjamas, then went into the ensuite to brush her teeth. She couldn’t help the tears that pricked her eyes or the smile on her lips as she glanced down at the positive pregnancy tests. Everything felt right in her world.

Auston entered the room just as she was finishing brushing her teeth and placed a kiss on the top of her head before he started doing the same. Carson squeezed Auston’s arm as they looked at each other in the mirror before going back into the bedroom and climbing into their bed to wait for him there.

Soon, Auston was getting into their bed as well and pulled Carson close. He held her, gently playing with her hair as they talked about the future and what this new addition to their family meant. Carson was eventually lulled to sleep by how relaxed Auston’s touches made her feel and Auston wasn’t long to do the same, welcoming a peaceful sleep as he anticipated everything that was to come.

[writefightandflightclub]

“Yes man” (Cecil Dennis {fuck me, how did I get here} x fem!reader)

Summary: Blurby McBlurbFace. Mainly chat, slight fluff, smut, pining / friends to lovers vibes.

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Warnings: alcohol consumption; drug use mentions (weed); smoking; dumbification of Cecil, I guess. Mommy kink if you squint. Public erections / handjob sorta, premature ejaculation / cum in pants. Mentions of dead fish but no fish were harmed. Actually, a surprising number of animal metaphors. Oops. Rimming I’m sorry that one snuck in very last minute Omg.

A/n: having a shitty mental health day (boo) and this Cecil blurb (whilst not my best) is my self-care ☺️ I don’t remember his character well aside from wet bloody cat boy, but I’m damn sure not rewatching that again so this will have to do 😅. Feedback appreciated! 🧡 (Is the rimming too much? 🙈) Not proofed and I’m almost positive autocorrect will have screwed me over.

Also totally inspired by @my-secret-shame’s meme and @foxilayde’s amazing blurb. I will not pretend to have had an original idea! 🧡

“Come onnnn, Cecil,” you whine, poking him in his soft belly with your index finger. He giggles lightly, almost like a hiccough. “It’s always me coming up with the ideas. What do you wanna do next?”

He turns his head as though in slow motion. Moves as if he’s underwater, this one - at least when he’s got food and several beers in him (which is most of the time). He looks up. Blinks at you; dumbly. “What do you mean?”

Eh. You’d really thought your statement had been quite clear.

You resist the urge to pinch his cheek and tell him It’s a good job you’re pretty.

“I mean, that I suggest things, and you go along with them.”

He blinks again. It’s like everything is just a little slower in Cecil’s world. Takes a little longer to filter through. It’s refreshing, in a way. He’s in no rush, and it encourages you to slow down too. To smell the roses.

Cecil is beyond easy-going, come to think of it. Goes with the flow like a dead fish. You’re pretty sure, in fact, that he’d go along with just about anything. With just about anybody’s hare-brained schemes, without once thinking through a single one of the potential consequences.

Scratch that - he probably already has done just that; which would explain a lot of the trouble he’s routinely gotten himself into since you’ve known him.

Though, you suppose, in a way that’s refreshing too. You always did worry too much.

Besides, he always seems to muddle through, somehow. Though quite how has you stumped. It’s hardly due to his charm or his smarts, now, is it? Even so, despite whatever attributes he is lacking in, you can’t deny that he must be doing something right. Trouble simply seems to slide right off the man’s back. Like water off a… well. A dead fish, you guess. What a versatile metaphor.

He blinks at you again. Maybe those big pretty cow eyes help, just a teency bit, to get him out of trouble, you would wager.

Look at him though. You’ve never seen anyone more relaxed. Practically horizontal as he’s hunkered down in the booth, seated next to you in the corner of your usual dive bar. Maybe there’s something to be said for all the pot and seedy hotel room fucks he indulges in. You bet his shoulders are inordinately loose. Maybe he really does have it all figured out, despite appearances.

As you ponder this, Cecil -eventually- makes a non-committal noise, before his bloodshot, glassy eyes flick back to the TV hung up on the wall. He is barely even watching it. Just letting it happen to him, like he does with most everything else.

That’s probably why you’ve never fucked him, you realise, like a bolt out of the blue. He’s pretty, sure. But you wouldn’t.

You don’t mind control - that’s not it. You don’t mind taking charge. But with Cecil? You think he’d take it lying down - a little too literally. If you’d ever suggested you and he fool around, you’d never know for sure. Never know if it really was his idea - a thought or desire he’d ever had before - or if he was simply far too agreeable and opportunistic to decline. So agreeable, that he’d let you ease your vagina up and down on his cock until you came on him. You were intrigued by the thought, sure. But you refused to go there simply because Cecil couldn’t come up with anything better to do.

You look at him, and immediately bat that thought - the vagina all over cock one - away though, as you regard his complete lack of gumption. It’s tangible. Look at him now, for example. He’d seemed to like the way the air from his non-committal noise had filtered over the neck of his bottle, tucked under his folded chin. Indeed, he is now pursing his full, curvy lips, and blowing over the mouth of it until a soft series of “hoots” fill your booth.

You fold your arms and sigh.

You reckon that will amuse him for the next ten minutes at least, so clearly, once again, Cecil’s not the one coming up with a plan for the remainder of this evening.

It’s not that you ever really have to do anything with Cecil to have a good time. It’s just that, tonight, you’re antsy, and it’s making your thoughts wander in directions. Down below his zipper directions, so help you.

“Beer’s empty,” Cecil states flatly, finally noticing after sucking on the bottle for a mo, poking his wet pink tongue around the rim like the little wet cat boy he is. Cute though. Does things to you.

Anyway. You register his statement, but you observe that no action follows. He doesn’t look at all like he plans to do a damn thing about it.

You decide to test your theory, then. Your theory that Cecil’s simply a dead fish swept along in your river. That maybe he doesn’t even want to be here at all. Never did. That you are just another something that happened to happen to him.

“Do you wanna go get Mexican?” you offer, with ulterior motives Cecil is not shrewd enough to pick up on.

His eyes tick back from the captivating, shifting lights of the TV. “Sure,” he smiles softly at you, perfectly content, it seems - and yet, you are less than satisfied.

“See!” You smack the palms of your hands together in triumph, and he jumps. Pushes himself up a little straighter in the seat, his palms disappearing into the worn, lumpy upholstery. “See what I mean?”

He blinks at you blankly. Again.

Clearly not, then?

“You just go along with anything I say. We ate two hours ago, Cecil,” you complain, recalling the all you can eat Chinese buffet you and he had gorged on with two coupons you’d cut out of the newspaper. You drop your hands to your lap, dejectedly. You’re getting agitated with him, which surprises you, in truth. And still… there Cecil is. Unflappable. Calm. Constant. There are pros to his cons, for sure. “I just… I never know if you actually like what we’re doing, you know?”

“But. You always suggest things I like. So why would I say no?” He shrugs a little. “Tacos are good. I like tacos. I like…” he hoots into his bottle again as he says the word. “You-ooooooh.”

You hate to admit it, but his answer has you stumped for a moment. Cecil’s statements may generally be simple. Uncomplicated. But they can be oddly profound at times.

Christ. Maybe… Does the man actually have a valid point? Or, perhaps you’re looking too hard for meaning in his words - it’s possible. You feel like you’ve spent a lot of time lately looking hard at Cecil, perhaps to justify your bizarre and inexplicable feelings.

Possibly you’re even projecting. His seeming lack of independent willpower would certainly make that easy enough to do.

Maybe the man has a point though. Maybe he’s not as “easy-going” as you think he is. Maybe you’re just coincidentally so attuned to his desires that he’s never had cause to deny you. Maybe you are aligned with his desires. One and the same. “What if I asked you to do something you didn’t like, then?”

You slurp up the dregs of melted ice through your straw and Cecil blinks again as though it’s taking all of his processing power. Damn, though. You’re surprised that the fanning of those endlessly long cow lashes didn’t cause the curtains behind you to billow in the breeze they threw up. “Like what?”

You shake your head. Touch his arm to placate him. “Never mind, Cecil.” Christ. If he can’t even think of a single Thing He Wouldn’t Like, maybe you can safely stick to your dead fish hypothesis. It’s all the same to him. Just happening to him. He’s not choosing you.

That particular thought, when it arrives, niggles you more than expected, but you quash the growing agitation which rides in alongside it.

Meanwhile, Cecil looks around, quite visibly thinking. “I wouldn’t get up outta this seat,” he states adamantly, his voice croaked from all the blunts he’s worked through today. “I wouldn’t like that.”

You believe him. He’s practically sliding down to become a puddle on the floor. Dissolving into the bar furniture; becoming one with the upholstery.

Your lips curl up into a tender smile, remembering one particularly ridiculous night at Cecil’s. The night involving a 3am bong sesh, culminating in him genuinely believing he had merged with the couch, becoming a half-human half-upholstery monstrosity. He had waved the two huge, puffy couch cushions around as though they were his arms, and he’d grabbed you up in the middle of them like a grilled cheese, sandwiching you and taking you down to the floor where the two of you had rolled and laughed until you’d cried.

When the laughter had subsided to only the odd titter here and there, and you had lain on his disgusting rug almost nose to nose? That’s the first time you’d wanted to kiss him, and it turned out not to have been the last.

Fuck. You are rather fond of this idiot, aren’t you? How the fuck did that happen?

Engaged fully now though - slightly more lucid than your fond memory- Cecil sits up. Still slouched but this time over the table, his forearms bracing him against the surface. As he moves, you get a waft of his layered, stale cigarette smell. It’s… confusing, in its appeal. Should be off-putting, but you find, in fact, that it’s a comfort.

“No? You don’t wanna?”

With a rush of affection you link your arm through Cecil’s, and he slumps his head on to your shoulder as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You weren’t ready for the way his knotted curls brush your cheek, and it inspires a similarly dense and tangled knot to form in your middle.

“No.” It’s the most sure you’ve ever heard him sound. “I don’t wanna get up.”

“A minute ago we were going for Mexican food, Cecil.” There’s a beat. “That kinda involves movement, you realise?

He swivels his head towards you then, gaze all doe-eyed and pathetic, and the proximity of him parroting on your shoulder knocks you for six. “You mad at me or something, Hottie from Walmart?”

You snort. He doesn’t always pull out that nickname for you - how you’d been known to him before you had been known to him - but it always makes you sentimental when he does.

He shifts from you then, tilting his body towards you. Scrutinising you with apprehension in his sweet face.

Fuck him actually, and fuck his pouty beautiful kissable lips most of all.

You sigh, and you deliberately soften your face. He’s easy-going, sure, but he’s sensitive. Trouble slides off of his back, but other things… other things don’t slip off quite so well, and he often gets like this. Like he’s done something wrong, when he hasn’t.

You actively resist the urge to coddle him. To tenderly rake his somewhat grimy but beautiful curls off of his forehead.

You hardly want to examine the fact he brings out your… motherly instincts; but it doesn’t escape your attention that he always seems like he’s craving just a little nurturing. You want to take your thumb and smooth out the creases in his troubled brow.

“No, Cecil. I’m not mad at you. I’d tell you if I was and we’d talk about it.”

He nods.

You’re not mad at him. Really. And so, you take pause to wonder why this happy-go-lucky trait of his is particularly irking you today. “It’s mostly a good thing, I promise.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”

He looks pleased for a minute and then: “Wait. What’s a good thing?”

You want to kiss his stupid mouth until he can’t think. Which you don’t think would take long at all, actually.

“That…” You think about how to phrase it, and it quickly occurs to you. “That. You’re my ‘yes man’.” He is expressionless for a moment, and you wait for comprehension to slowly crawl over him. “I mean, Cecil,” you take his clammy hand in yours. “That it’s always fun with you. I mean that you never shoot down my ideas. Even when you probably should.”

His face splits with a brief - goofy, but wholly endearing - smile. “You have fun with me?”

His big cow eyes go all soft and wet.

Oh boy. This idiot. If you didn’t have fun with him, even just sitting on his grotty couch, what other reason could you possibly have to hang out with him, huh?

You open your mouth to say as much before thinking better of it, but for once Cecil beats you to it.

“I have fun with you too, Hottie.”

It’s another one of those moments of levity that you’ve experienced surprisingly often with Cecil. One of those moments where everything feels a just little more profound. A little more magical. Sometimes, Cecil gets you in the gut just a little harder than expected.

Great. And now you’re thinking of Cecil all up in your guts.

“I should think so - I’m awesome. But, right now? All I’m saying is…” You tap your noggin. “Tank empty. No ideas. It’s your turn to decide what we do tonight? Okay?”

You search his eyes. His big, beautiful, sincere and secretless eyes. You silently ask the true question you want to ask him. I want to know what you want.

You’re not yet ready to admit the questions buried right beneath that one: do you want me back? Could you? Would you, Cecil?

“Yeah?” Cecil responds, unsure, and you immediately worry that you have, in fact, given him too much responsibility. His expression compresses in a frown of deep, deep concentration. Like he’s really wrestling with this.

You watch with bated breath, dying to see what he comes up with - if anything at all.

And then - aha - he finally has it.

“I could jerk off.”

“Wha-?” You playfully bat him in the arm, aghast. “Cecil!!”

“What?” A surprised, contrite laugh bobs in his throat.

“I mean.” You swallow. “How is that an idea for both of us?”

Oh that’s your problem with his idea?

That it’s not participatory enough?

“You could help.”

Your jaw drops open. “Cecil! I’m not gonna-” you switch to a loud whisper “-jerk you off!”

He blinks again, his eyes glinting with a gentle - ever so gentle - flicker of amusement. “You’re not a yes man,” he complains softly, his curly lips sneaking up into a curly smile. “Always shooting down my ideas.”

He bats his lashes at you and oh boy - even Cecil must be starting to figure out that you’re a sucker for those big, pretty brown eyes. Your one true weakness.

“That’s really what you want?” you ask, trying to keep things light. To keep your tone jokey and jovial, like always, despite the rising tremor in your voice. “It would involve getting up, you realise?”

He winks at you - a gesture which seems entirely unlike him and yet somehow works - and smirks down at his crotch. “Already am.”

“If you’re really so uncontrollably horny, why don’t you get someone else around here to help you, huh?” Your heart skips a beat. “Why me?”

He’s looking at you like he wants you but… he’s an opportunistic guy. Goes with the flow. That’s how things come to him; he’ll take his cigarettes and beers and fucks wherever and whenever he can get them.

He unceremoniously pulls out a rolled blunt and lights it up, the filter end pressed between his plush pink lips.

“No.” It bobs as he talks and he takes little, peppered drags to get the burn going.

“No?”

You blink at him dumbly now.

“No. I only want you.”

Correction. That’s the most sure of anything you’ve ever heard him.

He slips forward, exhaling his smoke into your mouth as his lips caress yours. “Come on,” he encourages. “Get going. Before my penis turns into a couch cushion.”

He kisses your laugh, and as his tongue slides hungrily against yours suddenly it isn’t quite so funny. Suddenly, you feel like maybe Cecil has the best ideas.

“Right here?” You reach down, and you smooth your palm over the clothed bulge at his crotch. “In the booth?”

“I’m already barred. Heh. What are they gonna do?”

You smile at him, licking your lips as Cecil bucks up into your hand, his head lolling back against the lip of his seat, and his pretty eyes fluttering closed.

He groans, as your fingers snake to tease open the button at his fly.

“Oops,” Cecil whispers contritely, almost immediately, his cheeks and his ears darkening with a deep crimson flush as he looks over to you. “I just… I…”

Oh God. He just came in his pants, didn’t he? Oh Lord that makes you inexplicably hot.

His big, pretty eyes are wet with apology. “Are you mad?”

“No, Cecil.” Poor baby. “I just think I should take you home and get you cleaned up, hmm?” You next words all run into one, as you struggle to get your new genius plan out of your mouth. “Mayberimyoualittlewhatdoyousay?”

Did you actually just suggest that you take him home to rim him? Good Lord.

He blinks rapidly, the colour in his cheeks flowering more, like a beautiful rose unfurling. “Y-Yes. I say yes.”

It’s a hare-brained plan, for sure, but you decide that for once,

you might as well just…

go with the flow.

It certainly works for Cecil.

[accio-victuuri]

WYB IN HENGDIAN 🤡🤡🤡

i knew my initial post about it wouldn’t be the last, i just didn’t expect what would happen after. lol. to think that, this should just be some chill clowning on our part and no one really knows for certain how the location thing works on douyin.

it’s now on entertainment hs. and while i do think this tag could be popular because people are curious, is he filming there? he is notoriously secretive about his projects lately so any crumb of where he is and possible hints at his work will get people’s attention.

as i mentioned, that 7km may not be the most accurate. @rainbowsky even said, some are saying it may be the closest baseus store to the user. the same is being explained in the screenshot below, it says the OP’s location will not have anything to do with it.

there is a mechanism, since it’s an ad, that will connect you ( the one who is watching ) to an offline store of that brand. the screenshot discusses how a blogger from Zhejiang posted about KFC, and then someone in Nanchang watching it found that same proximity thing and it’s saying how far they are from the KFC Nanchang store. but i cannot shut down people who say it works when you are in the same city, you will find how far someone is from you. it’s not exactly a unique feature, dating apps even have that.

I personally believe that they spent some time together in HD during the holidays. as with this fandom, we will get the clues at one point or another. that’s just how it is. 🤷🏻‍♀️

this is also gaining some traction because of how similar it is to the ximalaya clowning…

as soon as the hs went up of him being in Hengdian, at 12:00, he posted an Ad for Baseus. The same one shared in Douyin and his IP shows that he is in Beijing. We can gather a few things from this move.

1. This has nothing to do with the HS. It happens all the time. Ads like this are posted in multiple platforms so maybe the douyin one is first and then Weibo the next. They are not doing damage control or washing. It’s an obligation to the brand.

2. The IP of Beijing. This could easily be someone else posting for him. The speculation among BXGs is that, he had to do this to cover up for the fact that he is in Hengdian. P2 is saying he used the Brand’s video, not even uploaded it himself. So it seems like he is in a rush to publish it. In the same way his “playlist” in ximalaya was closed when people noticed something was off.

( xz holding a banner that says run away quickly as soon as wyb comes back to their HD hideout. lol )

It is said that the Baseus weibo post may be damage control because he also shared an ad for YAYA on his douyin but didn’t xpost to Weibo. We are familiar with how greedy Weibo is with ads posted on celebrity accounts so it is really better to keep things on Douyin. So they are saying WYB pushing for the Weibo post says he is doing this to cover up. The IP on there isn’t even the most reliable, I remember that weibo tv awards event where artists are posting supposedly in the venue but their IPs are different.

It also doesn’t help that we had that rumor of them spending CNY in HD.

It you think about it, in a way, this seems like a parallel of sorts to him posting a photo of him in Inner Mongolia while XZ’s production was filming there. but that was voluntary on his part.

3. He is shutting down the rumors. I believe this is a favorite among so/os because it implies that wyb hates the cpf narrative so he is shutting us up by posting that weibo ad with an IP. However, him, “shutting” us up in this case is totally fine. 😅😅😅

We’re sorry for exposing you. 🙇🙇🙇

That’s why i felt off when i saw that candy cause it’s invasive. It could easily be used for the wrong reasons and we know how big wyb is with his privacy. There is nothing wrong when we piece things together based on photos they share ( or lrlg posts ) like with GG’s birthday etc but this one may put WYB in trouble. I love it when they get to spend their free time together or with friends & family and i would hate for them to feel like we are making a joke out of their security. That is not the case here. They always come first and whatever will make them safe.

At this time, the point isn’t even what the 7km means and who is right or wrong. I personally think this is a lesson of how what we talk about in the small circle of cpfs may be used to negatively talk about WYB. Tho this HS is not negative or scandalous at all — but it’s only a matter of time. XZ & WYB are such big names and there are a lot of people who are just waiting for the right piece of news. Years ago, our CPNs can be kept locked away and no one cares, but in recent years, that is not the case anymore. We should be more careful. ☺️

AGAIN, if it’s true, it will come back to us in bits and pieces till the picture is complete. 💟 Let’s be patient. Bjyxszd indeed.