#it’s not about “oh no i can’t have these things because they will cause me great pain”

[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[prozacwhorehouse]

paparazzi | mgg x SNL cast member gf

Summary: comments from the paparazzi instill doubt in you, but Matthew is there as a voice of reason

this was a request but it got deleted when I was making edits so I hope this finds its way to that lovely person !

—————————————————————————

pre and post show paparazzi outside the studio wasn’t uncommon. but when speculation that you and Matthew were dating blossomed, they got more incessant and difficult to ignore. it seemed as if they were always around, with the intention of spotting the two of you and documenting it. they were constantly nagging for answers and details about your relationship, most specifically mentioning the age gap.

the both of you knew it’d would be hard for some people to understand, but the idea that you were both legal consenting adults seemed more logical and would be accepted easier. originally, you had kept the relationship private - wanting the intimate moments to be kept to yourselves, only for yourselves. eventually the love becomes to great to hide, so you started dropping hints to the public. hints weren’t enough, there were always the small few who liked to dig a little deeper, push sensitive buttons - almost always internet trolls, or worse, in person paparazzi.

no matter what, they’ll always jab at the age gap. it’s always flashing cameras followed by comments, from “your relationship is inappropriate” “she’s young enough to be your daughter” and even, “is you dating an older man rooted in daddy issues?”

a video of the interaction goes viral and all the comments are offering support for the two of you:

they are both consenting adults. those who can’t accept that need to grow up and mind their own business.

these poor angels. the paparazzi is disgusting, ill never understand why it’s still a thing

they’re both grown leave them the fuck alone

daddy issues?? holy shit. the pap is getting so much worse.

two talented people reduced to their relationship. do better

you knew accepting a job on television came with its consequences, but you weren’t going to let people who get paid to be nosy stand in the way of your dream. so, with time you had learned how to handle paparazzi with ease. what was typically praise now being sprinkled with hate, it got harder and harder to ignore.

because the more someone says something about you, the more you start to believe it.

why is he with me? is this weird? am i wrong? is he wrong?

Whenever Matthew happened to be with you during these paparazzi incidents, he’d always guide you through the crowd by the small of your back or your hand. Weaving through people wordlessly, only whispering assurances into your ear, squeezing your hand to calm your heart beating in your ears.

—————————————————————————

The whole ride home to your apartment is silent. With Matthew, you two are always talking, always sharing thoughts, making the occasional silence reason for concern.

“Are you okay? You din’t say more than a word or two at a time not the way home,” he says while shutting the apartment door behind him.

“Are we, wrong?” you turn to gaze up at him through your lashes, the look on your face hurt.

“What do you mean, angel?” he croons, concern and confusion blossoming across his face.

“Like,” you pause and scoff, trying to find the words for your question. “Is what we’re doing wrong. Being together.”

“Do you not want to do it anymore? Cause we don’t have to-” his face turns to worry, your heart dropping at the thought of him thinking you’d say anything other than no. because no matter what anyone says, he’s so in love with you he can’t even imagine losing you.

“no! oh my gosh, no.” you’re quick to assure, holding his face in your hands. it’s just exhausting. why are they so concerned with our lives? can they not just-“

“you love me?” he interrupts, looking at you intently.

“what?” you scoff in disbelief, pulling back slightly. “of course I do - why?”

“because I love you. And that’s all that matters, yeah?” he brushes his thumb across your cheek, gazing into your eyes so lovingly. he always looks at you that way.

“It could be worse. They could be comparing me to Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smiles, causing the corners of your mouth to turn up, “and I’m definitely not DiCaprio level.”

“If you were, you would’ve dropped me when I turned 25,” you snicker and he sighs, throwing his head back.

“You’re funny, you know that?”

“I’d hope so. It’s kind of my job.”

—————————————————————————

mgg x SNL cast member taglist

@sarcasm-and-stiles @mystargirl-interlude @rubyirene @ashrrams @ghostatrixx @forevermorepassionate @saint-boudica @reidmarieprentiss @awakeforu @spencerlicious @kittycat-april @baudarling @delusional-4-fake-people @avenlymars @angelinajolie0213 @arusio @littleslayofhorrors @jezabelle9299 @jaemnationnn @princess-ofthe-pages @flow33didontsmoke

[quintessenceofdust88]

perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)

Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now. 

“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”

“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed. 

From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty. 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most. 

He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case). 

When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go. 

“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”

It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.

But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand. 

He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all. 

His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?

Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.

“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes. 

“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.

“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it. 

“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”

“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”

“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”

“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”

“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”

Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it  sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his. 

“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.

“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”

–

And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries. 

It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan. 

Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway. 

And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.

--

Tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if you'd rather only be tagged on Little Blobs' verse, also let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter  @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie  

[halfwayhearted]

hopeless romantic pedri trying his best to approach y/n but is afraid thinking she’s into someone else

A Tu Vera — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: He’s unsure about your feelings and struggles to interpret your actions, but your birthday gesture gives him the chance to hope that he’s wrong. That you do, in fact, like him.

Word Count: 1.10K+

Disclaimer/s — Nothing, it’s really just comfort, slight fluff?

A/N: So basically… I used the term approach as in like, he felt nervous to approach reader about the… situation? FUCK IDK I struggled horribly yet couldn’t stop writing but whatever! ALSO. HIS BIRTHDAY HELLO. 22, bless the hell up! 🎉🐾🤍

The day you’ve been waiting for has finally come.

It was Pedri’s twenty-second birthday today. You had told him beforehand that you would stop by later on because he needed to stay and practice for his upcoming game tomorrow, and you didn’t want to interrupt his time spent with his family.

Some time had passed when your phone buzzed with a message from him saying that he was, well, alone, so you could be on your way to him.

And you were! Your gift for him sat delicately on your passenger seat. Did you have to stop yourself from spending a lot on him? Yes! But this was Pedri; why wouldn’t you go all out for him?

As you pull up, your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you see him standing on the porch, his gaze locking onto your car. You quickly get out and call out to him, “Hello, why the hell are you outside?”

Now he’s looking at you as if you’ve just asked the most stupidest question in the world. “You were on your way. Of course I’d be waiting outside.” He retorted, slowly making his way toward you.

“Right,” you smile and wrap your arms around him once you’re within reach. “Happy birthday!”

The man returns your hug almost immediately. He hums against you in appreciation, nestling his nose into the crook of your neck. The action easily causes your cheeks to flush ever-so-slightly.

“I’ve got your gift in my car. Want to open now?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling away to his dismay.

Though his answer elicits a smile to spread across your lips… oh. He suddenly doesn’t feel upset about having to break the hug so early anymore.

Grabbing his arm, you gently tug him with you as you quickly reach the car door. “Okay, first things first: unfortunately, I can’t stay long. Secondly, feel free to let me know if you don’t like whatever’s in here; I kept the receipt just in case!”

“Doubtful, but I got it,” he shrugged with a grin.

Sliding your hand under the bag, you lean forward to get a better grip on it. Then, you turn to face him, holding it out for him to take, and he does.

With the gift now in his arms, you walk side by side to the chairs he has already set up outside, due to his family coming over earlier. Once the two of you are seated, you turn towards him and motion for him to open it, but he just keeps his gaze fixed on your face. You feel sick. “Go on.”

Adjusting the bag on his lap, Pedri pries it open, a breathy laugh escaping his lips when he sees how overly decorated it is. He takes out the card first, about to open it when you speak, “You can just read that later or something. Keep going, c’mon!”

He smiles, removing the blue and red wrapping paper to reveal the blue Nike hoodie inside. “You like hoodies, and you like the color blue, so…!”

It was the simplest thing, yet it had him fighting the urge to overthink the entire situation. You were observant, he knew that. He needed to stop.

“Thank you,” he says with a toothy-grin. “Really.”

“Of course. There’s one last thing at the bottom.”

The brunette lets out another laugh and removes more wrapping paper. His eyes widen slightly when he catches sight of the next gift, making you bite your bottom lip in nervous anticipation.

His gaze slowly trails up to lock with yours, and you tilt your head. “Do you like it? I noticed you were running low the other day, plus I know—”

Pedri interjects, “I do, and I was. It’s—this is a lot.”

“Don’t worry about that,” you assure. “Now you won’t have to worry about getting another one!”

The box suddenly feels heavy in his hands, the strip of the brand ‘Prada’ staring right at him. He nods slowly, “No, I won’t. Thank you. Wow.”

“Wow, huh? So, I take it you liked everything?”

Obviously, was he kidding? No, were you kidding?“Really? What gave you that idea? Yes, I loved it.”

With a chuckle, you nudge his foot with yours, eyes rolling in feigned annoyance, “Hey, I can easily take it back. Tell me how your day was?”

“It was good. I had a good practice, had a small dinner with my family, and now I’m with you.”

I’m with you? What? He could’ve cursed under his breath if you weren’t right here. He knew he shouldn’t have said that. If he thought it sounded weird, you probably thought it was even worse.

He’s quick to take it back, “I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

“What? It’s okay,” you tell him with a quirk of your brow. “Sorry, what are you even apologizing for?”

He looks confused. “You’re with him, aren’t you?”

“Him?” You repeated. “I’m not seeing anybody.”

Not seeing anybody? “What about the guy with the blonde hair? The one you hung out with a lot.”

That’s when the person he’s talking about flickers through your mind, and now you’re smiling from ear-to-ear, “Oh. I’m not with him. I don’t like him.”

“Then who?” He blurts out, instantly regretting his words. He didn’t even actually know if you liked anyone to begin with. What was he doing?

You blow out a breath and stand up from your seat, with him following suit. “You’re serious?”

Stick with it. “I’m serious. You don’t have to—”

You refrain from letting your grin widen, nudging your head toward your car. He understands that you’re silently asking for him to walk you to it.

“Well! If it’s need-to-know,” you trail off, rounding your car and spinning on your heel to look at him once you reach the door. Your gaze flickers down to his lips for just a second, but that second is all he really needs for his breath to hitch in his throat.

To his semi-surprise, you reached up and placed a kiss on his cheek, sparing him one last knowing glance while you opened the door and got inside.

“Let me know if that answers your question. And, Pedri?” You pause; he hums. “Happy birthday.”

He stands there in silence. He had been so wrong. You weren’t with the person he thought you were with, and he should have realized that when you showed up at his house this late, knowing full well you have to wake up early for your job tomorrow.

Pedri had been utterly mistaken, and he couldn’t have been happier to be as wrong as he was.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @gadriezmannsgirl + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[choclatecoveredlove]

Tunnel of Love ❤︎

Playful Land is one of the coolest theme parks ever! The rides were exhilarating and the attractions were even able to keep finicky Floyd’s attention. However, you noticed something as you were checking out the map once more.

“Hey what’s this thing here?” You asked Fellow as you showed him the map. He stifled a sigh before glancing at the map.

“Oh, that? Why that’s our… ‘Tunnel of Love.’ It’s popular amongst couples, but i’m sure a blossoming young scholar like yourself wouldn’t be interested in something so trivial.”

Fellow clearly didn’t know you very well, because just as he was finishing his sentence you grabbed the hand of the guy you had feelings for and dragged him towards the Tunnel of Love with you!

Ace

you wanna go on WHAT with him?????

acts embarrassed and like he doesn’t want to ride but he does

you just can’t tell deuce that he went on this ride. he’ll never hear the end of it.

“of course you’d pick something lame to ride.” “well you don’t have to go on it with me.” “no we’re gonna ride it now.”

“ugh this ride sucks. it’s so slow and boring.”

he’ll groan while reaching out to grab your hand. yknow just in cause there’s an unexpected drop or something. (there is no drop)

he had fun and will smile about it when it thinks about it later on

does he thinks it’s worth the teasing from trey and cater? “well… maybe.”

Trey

he’s embarrassed, like really embarrassed.

not because he’s embarrassed to be seen with you or afraid he’ll be teased (which is unavoidable) but because he’s not very experienced with this kind of thing

“so..is it alright if i hold your hand?”

he’s glad the lighting is so dim in this tunnel; he would hate for you to see him so red in the face

he’s kind of awkwardly silent the enter time because he has no idea what to do or say

however as the ride goes on you notice him scoot continuously closer and closer to you

he gathers the courage to give you a small kiss on the cheek as you get off the ride

“sorry i was weird. let’s do that again some time. i’ll definitely make a bolder move then.”

Cater

he knew about the tunnel of love from social media posts and was gonna ask you first but you beat him to the punch

he’s gonna take so many pictures (for his own personal collection)

“okay, now let’s make a heart with our hands! cute~! scoot closer to me now. mwah~ got you!”

what a sly guy… and he got it all on camera

he doesn’t spend the whole time taking pictures though. he wants to savor the moment alone with you as well

he is immune to the teasing of the others- they’re probably just jealous he gets to spend 1 on 1 time with you

“am i gonna post the pics on magicam? no way. they’re just for me~!”

Leona

“no.” “pleaseeeee????” “no.”

he says while standing in line and waiting to get on the ride with you.

it’s something to do at least. “beats babysitting the rest of that lot.”

you were gonna try and be flirty and put your head on his shoulder but he beat you to it.

“wake me up when this is over.”

how romantic. leona asleep on you. (っ- ‸ - ς)

for leona though, he actually had a good time. taking a nap on you after a long day of being annoyed by a bunch of herbivores? he enjoys it

he’ll never tell you that though. but you can assume from the faint smile that graces his face as he gets off the ride with you

Jack

ooooo somebody’s tail is wagging

not that he’ll admit that he’s excited or anything. because he’s definitely not.

if you thought trey was awkward get a load of this guy! he’s as stiff as a board and won’t even look at you

“nervous? ‘m not nervous.. there’s not anything to be nervous about.”

sure jack everyone believes you (¬_¬")

if you’re expecting any moves to be made that’s too bad. he won’t even brush against your shoulder.

however, if you make a move he will initially tense up before relaxing somewhat and beginning to enjoy himself

Jade

“how incredibly bold of you.” 

this is all incredibly fascinating to him, human amusement parks, human courting rituals, and of course you’re fascinating as usual.

he’s unsure of what you expect out of this interaction how ever he’ll try his best to live up to your expectations.

he’ll hold your hand, put his arm around your shoulder, allow your head to rest against his shoulder, everything a gentleman would do.

tbh he was a little worried initially when you said you wanted to go on a ride with him but thankfully it wasn’t a thrill ride.

“this is much more fun anyways.”

Floyd

floyd is always up for a new experience: especially with you!

you just pray he doesn’t get bored halfway through and tries to get off

“wowie shrimpy~ you wanna spend time with me alone? can’t promise you’ll come back in one piece.”

he’s joking. (probably) (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

he cannot sit still on the ride

“heyyy why is this thing moving so slow? you said this would be fun. you’re not keeping me entertained at all. you better make it up to me later, kay?”

he’s expecting you to keep him entertained and content so you better not let him down

Kalim

he is beaming from ear to ear

he loves spending time with you!!

and for once jamil isn’t here to tell him ‘leave them alone.’ ‘they have better things to do.’ ‘you can’t take up all their time.’

he so excited he’s physically vibrating while waiting in line

tries to very subtly hold your hand and smiles when you take your hand in his.

he’s very gentlemanly. “it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable if i kissed you, would it?” no matter the answer he’s just happy to be around you

“that was so fun! can we go again? or maybe five more times? please!”

Vil

you think you can casually ask him to go on a romantic ride with him? you’ve got guts, he’ll give you that much

“well… fine. but no pictures. and no telling anyone else about this either. especially rook.”

he looks so refined sitting next to you and under the dimmer light he looks majestic

“i’m not going to kiss you on this.”

HEARTBROKEN ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა

“i’m sure we can find somewhere much more romantic to do that. rather than this gimmicky ride.”

so he didn’t enjoy it… but he still likes you though ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

Lilia

how fun!! he’s never experienced like this before and he’s glad he can experience it with you.

he takes a couple a pictures so that he can show malleus, silver, and sebek later “they’re going to be so jealous of us.”

he’s ancient so he’s aware of how to be romantic and to how to be a gentleman (only if he wants to be though)

he’s extremely flirtatious, he’ll lean in close only to whisper “you know, you’ve got something in your teeth.”

then in the next moment he will entangle his hand with yours and help you out of the ride. he’ll skip back with you to the rest of the group grinning slyly

Fellow

he was definitely not expecting that.

he personally doesn’t care for the tunnel of love, in fact he thinks it’s a little gross. the last thing he wants to see is couples making out.

but he has to keep up the act of gracious host, doesn’t he?

fine. he’ll smile and bare it. he just knows gidel will never let him live it down though.

well at least you are kinda cute. maybe he won’t hate it entirely.

“my, my! you’d like to ride it with me? i’m honored to spend one on one time with such a prestigious scholar such as yourself.”

[theconstellationprincess]

I can’t sleep, so have some life series headcannons <3 ( @froggymarsh ) WILD LIFE SPOILERS

—

Joel and Gem can’t really find a balance between being big and regressing, so they just go with whatever and try to make sure the other doesn’t die.

Everyone is all over the place this season oh my goodness. So many teams where there’s just… a lot of small time. Lots of fun.

Impulse is really struggling to not regress this season, because he’s used to having to be a caregiver, but that’s not happening with the other G’s.

Cleo doesn’t regress, or at least not to his knowledge, and Scott and Pearl have a system of their own, and it makes him feel like a little bit more of an outsider. He likes taking care of people, of his friends, but it’s just not happening this season.

This makes him want to regress, but then he stresses out about regressing and it’s just not good.

Bdubs is just a little guy, building his tower and hanging out with BET. The whole leader thing? He’s a very strong and good leader, of course he is, and it’s certainly not just Etho and Tango playing along.

TUFF GUYS! They are so silly to me, Etho going around leaving Life’s Tuff, being friends with everyone. Calling on big brother Joel because Bdubs is teasing him. Very baby coded.

The Spanners! Having so much fun, causing chaos, setting traps. Grian knowing what the wild card is in advance and players trying to bribe him with candy or toys while he giggles mischievously

Okay that’s all for now! If you’ve made it this far, I promise I’m working on the requests you’ve all sent!!

[thedeadstoryteller1]

𝓢𝓾𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 | 𝓩𝓪𝔂𝓷𝓮 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘴𝘬𝘰 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘡𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘴: Oral Sex, Established Realationship, Fluff, Breeding Kink, Vaginal Sex, Crempie, Praise, My love.

Artist: Please help me find the artist

“Yvonne.. Tell me how much longer my shift is.” She chuckles slightly at my child like whine.

“You’re like this because Dr. Zayne has been in surgery all day.” She retorts. If she didn't have a mask on I could see her big grin. Her eyes shut slightly when she smiles like that.

“Okay you don’t have to call me out like that.” I snort.

She’s right though. I get moody when Zayne is busy, it gets so boring sometimes transporting patients to different areas of the hospital. For the past few weeks I’ve been working at Asko Hospital. The decrease in wanderer activity caused me to look for a part-time job. Zayne offered to help me with my expenses but I refused, so as a solution he was able to find me a job here. Of course I was mortified and refused again, but when no other job was calling I ended up taking him up on the offer. For three days out of the week I’m transporting patients to different areas of the hospital. Who knew this was an actual thing that people get paid to do. It’s not a hard job, however it gets so boring having to wait for an assignment. On the bright side, wearing scrubs is so comfy.

“Dr. Zayne should be getting out soon from his surgery in 15 minutes, if all went well. You can transport his patient to the ICU once closing is done.” Yvonne winks at me, still keeping that same big grin. I can’t help my face turning bright red, she lets out a big laugh causing the nurses station to grow silent. We both can’t help but giggle at the awkward stares from our peers.

“Operating room five?” I say staring at the OR board, “I’m getting kinda good at reading medical lingo.”

‘‘Mhmm.” Yvonne mutters, as she hands me the patient pickup report. “Don’t get lost again.” She says as I’m heading away. Once again she calls me out, I can’t help but to get flustered all over again. There is a hard fact about me working here, I get lost all the time.

It’s been longer than 15 minutes, I made it everywhere but OR five. How did I even manage to make it to the morgue? This is going to be my second write up for patient tardiness. Another one and I’m kissing this job goodbye. I punch the elevator button rapidly so it can open. My stomach is in knots, the overwhelming anxiety is causing me to sweat. I’m a hunter for crying out loud. I can read a map, but I can’t understand the hospital layout. Ridiculous. Consumed by my thoughts, I rush into the elevator as soon as it opens. A loud HUMPH is heard as I collide into a body.

Oh shit. I know this cologne.

“Lost again are we?” His sarcastic tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t bring myself to look up at him. I know he has that stupid smirk on his face.

Zayne chuckles. As I try to back away to create some space between us, he takes his hand and holds my waist all while resting his chin on my head.

“I got lost trying to find OR five.” I mutter in his chest. Having Zayne so close to me and feeling his hand on my waist makes my already knotted stomach do back flips.

“Hmmm. Ms. Hunter, it seems as If I need to show you the hospital again.” He starts swaying us softly side to side, as if we were dancing. The elevator doors close and we start to ascend.

“Did the surgery go well?” I whisper trying not to ruin our moment.

“As expected, the patient will make full recovery.” He lifts his head up, still looking down into his chest. I take my arms and wrap them around him. If I could, I would freeze us in this movement forever. All of my worries, all of my doubts fade when I’m with him like this. His calmness soothes me in ways I can’t explain. I am truly in love with him.

He places his free hand under my chin, cupping it softly causing me to lift my head and meet his gaze. Before I can even react, he leans in and kisses me. His soft lips collide into mine. Slow and sweet, I kiss him back. But the knot that was in my stomach turns into a fire, a hunger for his touch and skin. As the anxiety leaves my body, my hands find their way to his hair, I tug on it slightly causing a small whimper escape his lips. I stand on my tippy toes and make our kiss more passionate, sliding my tongue in his mouth. His hands move from their previous positions and without hesitation he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, his hands hold my ass for support. There is no struggle from Zayne, he lifts me up and pushes my back against the wall with ease. We break away from our kiss and gasp for air, looking into his eyes again I see his hunger and wanting. The feeling in my pants makes me bite on my lip, his lips curiver in response. A small smirk appears on his face as he catches his breath.

“Naughty girl.” He pants.

“Teach me a lesson.” I smirk

The elevator doors open, and my heart stops working. We quickly let go of each other creating some sort of distance. Zayne shuffles his hair and clears his throat, however there is no hiding the bulge in his scrub pants. Oh how I know he wishes he had his lab coat on. I quickly adjusted my scrub top and hair. Looking at the floor number and realizing we are at the main lobby, Zayne gives a friendly nod at the elderly couple who just walked in, and quickly exits out of the elevator.

“My office after your shift, we need to discuss our conversation further.” He says as before the doors close.

Zayne the man that you are.

The couple gives me a sassy smile and my face grows red. The awkward tension in the room almost makes me throw up. The next stop, I quickly exit the elevator. Now to find the nurses station.

After receiving my second write up, I glance at the clock and see it’s time for me to leave. Midnight. Remembering Zayne’s words I make my way to his office. Knowing that route like the back of my hand, my thoughts take me to the moment in the elevator. The way his eyes looked, like he was going to lose control. His hands on my ass gripping me tightly, the way my cunt was burning for him. He was so confident, so ready to devour me. Surgeons high. I’ve heard of the nurses talking about it before, it’s when after performing a risky surgery the doctor feels a sense of adrenaline and a boost to their ego causes the blood to flow. The thought of cool, calm, collected Zayne disappeared to the man in the elevator.

When I arrive at his office door, I hesitate before knocking. What are you feeling now, Zayne? Pushing my anxiety aside, I place two knocks before I hear his voice telling me to enter. He is sitting at his desk, still wearing his dark navy blue scrubs, the lab coat is hanging perfectly on the coat rack. In the dim office the moonlight illuminates his soft face. He's on the computer typing away.

“Lock it.” He demands, not taking his eyes off the screen. The directness causes me to react instantly. Oh so it’s going to be like that … fine. Let's play Dr. Zayne.

I make my way to his desk and perfectly sit on the corner, crossing my legs like a perfect school girl. He is still typing, not looking away from the screen.

“Finishing the report ?” I glance over.

He closes the computer quickly and rotates his chair to face me, leaning back as he stares me down. His eyes scan my body, there is a hint of lust but they mostly scream admiration.

“Have I ever told you how great you look in scrubs?” he smirks. My dark violet scrubs look almost black with this lighting. I chuckle at his comment.

“They are rather nice but I do miss my hunter uniform.” We both smile.

He scoots his chair in front of me.

“I like you more without clothes.” His low raspy whisper catches me off guard, he takes his hands and parts my legs open. The unexpected move catches me off guard and I jump at his touch. His eyes look at me again, asking for permission. Do your worst. I nodded at his permission.

“Lay down.” He demands as his hands proceeds to take off my scrub pants and panties. I kick my shoes off quickly.

“Close your eyes and don’t make a sound, my love.” His tongue takes no time in finding my clit, rubbing sweet circles around it. Unable to control my movements, my legs close in on his face, I quickly cover my mouth with my hands and thankfully so because his tongue is doing wonders. With each flick and rub, my body trembles sending shockwaves. He goes faster with each squirm. Putting my legs over his shoulders, he grips onto my thighs making me unable to leave. I feel myself coming close to climax.

“Z-Z-Zayne I-I-I’m g-gonna cum.” I moan as quietly as possible. His tongue movements become faster. I bite the inside of my cheeks, in a few seconds my back arches at the feeling of release. Moaning quietly but wanting to scream is torture. He slows down and my muscles relax. I’m gasping for breath, flustered and hot. He gets up from his seat, locking eyes with me once more. His ears are red and he licks his lips.

“You taste sweet.” We chuckle

“I want you please.” I beg him. His eyes darken again and no second is wasted. He lowers his scrub pants a bit, taking my legs over his shoulders; he teases me with his cock. Rubbing the tip up and down my throbbing cunt. Zayne please my eyes beg him.

With no warning he shoves his dick deep into my pussy hitting my cervix, giving me no time to adjust to his big dick. I don’t contain my moan and he quickly covers my mouth.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He whispers almost enough so I don’t hear him. I can’t help but to smile at the sound of him cursing. He notices my smile and starters thrusting faster and harder, the desk moves slightly. “Turn around.” he demands. Obeying his order, I lower my legs and 180 spin onto my stomach, all while Zayne is still inside me. With my feet planted onto the ground for support, he grabs onto my waist and starts to pound me.

Low moans from the both of us fill the room. His thrusting is fast and deep, causing my legs to shake with each clap. A few tears fall from my eyes, I want to scream, to moan his name loudly but I restrain myself. I know he’s trying hard as well, sometimes a small grunt escapes but he followers it with a thrust. He thrust so hard that it causes the things on his desk to fall over, the neat and tidy office soon turns into a mess with papers and pens on the ground. A loud bang is heard when a metal cup falls and hits the floor.

A knock on the door causes my heart to drop. Zayne doesn't stop.

“Dr. Zayne, are you alright in there?” A muffled voice is heard from the other side.

“Yes (grunt) Dr. Greyson I (huff) just dropped a few things.” I’m biting my lip so hard it bleeds a little bit. Zayne pulls me closer, putting his hand over my mouth. I moan a little at the feeling of his cock shifting.

“I finished the report sir, shall I come in and bring it to you.” The door handle shakes a bit but with no success of opening it stops.

Zayne leans in and whispers in my ear “Let me cum inside you.” I shake my head yes, closing my eyes.

“Slide it under the door, I’m changing.” With no questions the folder slides in perfectly.

“You’re a good girl.” He purrs resting his head on mine. With that Zayn’s hot cum fills my insides. My legs shake at my release as well. We both pant heavily like feral dogs trying to catch a breath. His dick twitches inside of me, making sure I take all of his fill. Fuck. Zayne hugs me tightly from behind. I feel his chest rise up and down quickly. He places a kiss on the back of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I say trying to hold myself up, but my legs are so shaky that I turn into mush in his arms. He holds my weight making sure I don’t fall on the floor. Gently he takes me to his office chair and sits me on it slowly. Small drops of sweat trickle down from his face, he is still gorgeous though. A gorgeous, hot and sweaty mess. My mess.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” His eyes show concern and remorse as he wipes the tears from my eyes cupping my cheek in the process.

“No, absolutely not.” I hold his hand with mine, smiling softly. “I need to start making my way over here after your surgeries if this is what your high makes you do.”

He laughs, his sweet velvet laugh is music to my ears. It’s so rare to hear. Once again I freeze this moment into my brain. The rarity of hearing his laugh, his green eyes glowing in the moonlight, his hand on my cheek. I make sure to lock it so it can never leave my memories.

“My high?” he questions, still slightly chickling in the process.

“You know .. the high that every surgeon gets after succeeding a risky operation.” I tease.

“My love, I never thought I would say this but I miss you fighting wanderers. The hospital lingo is catching up to you.” He smiles.

“Expect the layout apparently.” I huff.

He shakes his head slightly before placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Let's go home.”

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 22

Chapter 22 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Buck is completely blindsided by Eddie’s sudden request to divorce. In an attempt to talk about it, they end up fighting, which makes the possibility of a divorce only more looming.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slow burn)

Warnings: referenced emotionally abusive parents, insecurity

~~~

Chapter 22: Till Divorce Do Us Part

Buck nearly drops the glass he’s washing at Eddie’s words. Scrambling for a moment, before he squeaks out: “What?”

“I think we should get divorced,” Eddie repeats those horrible words, staring down intently at the dishes he’s drying instead of Buck.

“Uhm, why- wha- what brought this on?” Buck stutters, trying to be casual and failing. He can’t show how much this crushes him, can’t let Eddie know how much he wants him to stay.

Internally he is quickly combing through the past few weeks to see if he can come up with the answer himself. To see if he should have seen this coming.

With Carla in the picture things have been going better, but he didn’t realize it was ‘Buck can be replaced’-going-better. Eddie never said anything to indicate that would be the case.

Besides, financially it would be difficult to maintain Chris’s new school – which he loves – and Carla, not to mention their mortgage. So that doesn’t make sense. Though it is possible, a treacherous voice in the back of his head tells him.

He missed the school tour and Halloween, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Eddie personally tried to get him off for Halloween, he knew it hadn’t been on Buck. Is that he thinks that if he can do that alone, he can do it all alone?

It would make sense, but Eddie involved him, right? He helped prep for Buck’s tour, hell, Buck toured the school. He is registered there. Is Eddie immediately going to change that now that Chris is in? Was it just to present a more stable life to the school to get Chris in?

No, that doesn’t feel like Eddie. Eddie is kind and good, even if he’s a bitch sometimes. He pep talked Buck about getting to be there for Chris. That can’t be it. He understood.

Oh god, he must have met someone. They’d always said they would just divorce once other people got into the picture, it has always been nothing more than a marriage of convenience, not a lifelong commitment. The reminder leaves a foul taste in his mouth and he can’t help the jealousy at whatever mystery woman Eddie met. One he didn’t share anything about, he might add, even if he’s now divorcing him over her.

Not wanting Eddie to break it to him, he quickly continues talking before Eddie can. “Oh, of course, my bad. Why didn’t you say? What’s her name?”

“Maddie.”

Wait what?

“Excuse me,” Buck coughs, choking on his own spit.

Next to him Eddie flushes a brilliant shade of red, which Buck would have been able to appreciate more, were he not in the middle of getting his heart broken. Even though he really shouldn’t. Eddie has never been into him, he always knew that, but it truly felt like they were in this together, like this was a commitment on both their parts. Yet here he is.

Though, he never thought it would be Maddie. Maybe this girl Eddie met just happens to share the name or something?

He gets distracted by Eddie’s strong hand slapping him on the back until he stops coughing. His face concerned, though turns back into something horridly, awkwardly uncomfortable once Buck starts breathing normally again. It would be funny, if the circumstances were different.

“Not like that,” Eddie says and Buck can’t help but be relieved, because while he knows jealousy isn’t cool, he knows he will be insanely jealous of the woman that will quite literally snatch his husband away from him.

To cover for his relief, he hides the happy note in his voice by joking: “Good, cause otherwise Chim might kick you.”

“Shut up,” Eddie groans, still very much embarrassed, but at least not as tense anymore. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“By suddenly ambushing me with a divorce?” Buck counters, cringing when it sounds a little too raw, too accusatorial.

Eddie doesn’t meet his eyes. He hasn’t really for the entire conversation. He just stares at the drying rack and picks up a plate, angrily drying it in silence. Buck desperately wants to fill the silence like he so often does, chattering for the sake of chattering. Eddie likes it when he babbles, said so himself when he came home after touring the school.

Home… like he soon might not have anymore, because of Maddie? Because Eddie thinks divorcing him is being nice? He’s so confused and a little hurt. It’s enough to give him the patience to wait Eddie out.

Sure enough, a minute or so later, Eddie breaks. “I just don’t want you to miss out on time with your family because of me.”

The failed attempt to tell Maddie three days prior comes back to him, but he never guessed that this is what Eddie would take from it. That now that Maddie is here, Buck would rather want to spend with her than with Eddie and Chris. That he has real family to spend time with now, because this was never his family to begin with, no matter how much house they played.

“Is this about Christmas?” he asks. “I can still try and see if Maddie wants to spend it with me, so you can enjoy it with Chris and tía Pepa.”

“What?” Eddie frowns.

“If you don’t want me at Christmas so you can have one with only family, you can just say that. I get it,” he says, feeling the bile in his throat.

Eddie whips around so fast he startles Buck a little. For the first time he looks at him, eyes burning fiercely. “What the fuck are you on about, Buck? It won’t be only family without you there.”

Despite the bit of warmth bubbling up in his chest, he can’t help but feel like Eddie is merely saying it because he has too. An obligatory inclusion only done out of guilt. Now it’s his turn to look away, as he quietly says: “We’re a marriage of convenience based on very convoluted circumstances. It’s okay to not want to include me.”

“No. Just no. Fuck that, Buck. You raised Chris, practically more than me. We do our taxes together, we do chores together, Abuela gives you secret family recipes. You’ve been here through more shit than anyone else, of course you’re family,” Eddie explodes.

“Well, divorcing me isn’t really sending that message,” Buck yells back, knowing it is too much, but unable to keep the hurt to himself.

“I’m trying to help you,” Eddie argues.

“It’s not working, Eddie,” Buck retorts, more desperate than angry.

“Maybe it would if you weren’t so incredibly stubborn, Evan,” Eddie says, the words hitting Buck harder than any punch would have.

Eddie might be used to people who argue back; Shannon, his parents, tía Pepa. But Buck isn’t an arguing person, not really. He can get angry and argue, but he rarely does. Prefers not to. However, the ‘Evan’ is too much. It doesn’t sound like how Eddie used to say it, he sounds like Buck’s parents.

He can feel himself shutting down and he puts the sponge on the counter before he says: “No. I am not doing this. I’m not fighting with you and you’re not calling me Evan.”

His voice is calm, but it’s not because he’s no longer upset, it’s just that his emotions have taken a vacation, because that is the only way he’s getting through this situation. With one last look at Eddie’s face – who looks devastated, a fact that would probably do something to Buck were he not feeling the way he is – he turns on his heel and walks out of the kitchen and to his room.

The door closes behind him with a definitive click and Buck just stands in his room for a moment. Today has not been what he expected when he climbed into bed this morning after his shift. His bed is still unmade, civvies still littering the floor. His room looks lived in. Loved. He can’t imagine not waking up here with the Diazes down the hall.

Mechanically he makes his bed and puts the clothes on the chair or in the laundry respectively, his body slowly becoming his own again.

Meanwhile in the kitchen Eddie is staring at the door through which Buck just disappeared, dishtowel still in his hand. He can’t believe he just did that.

He is trying so hard to make life easier for Buck and all he did was cause more problems. It’s seemingly the only thing he’s good at. Buck deserves so much better than his bullshit, but he can’t even give the guy his freedom back without fucking it all up.

Eddie should have known better. Buck never argues, doesn’t like fighting with people. He doesn’t even like it when others fight around him. The only times Eddie truly seen him angry and act on it, is with Eddie’s parents and that is only when they truly pushed too far. So to fight with him? To throw his name in his face like that after all he knows about him? That’s practically unforgivable.

He has to make this right.

Making the bed and putting his clothes away makes Buck feel better. He has settled down back in himself and calmed down enough to replay the conversation. What Eddie said didn’t make him feel great and he hates the idea of getting divorced, but it’s what they always said they’d do. He can’t not hear Eddie out, because he doesn’t want it to happen. That’s not fair on Eddie.

Still, he wonders what sort of divorce Eddie will suggest. If Buck will get to help with Chris as much as Eddie always promised or if Eddie’s solo success will make it that Buck will get a smaller role in Chris’s life.

Buck really doesn’t want to hear it. But he has to. He tries to comfort himself with the fact that Eddie seems to genuinely think it’s in his best interest. It’s not malicious, he should maybe hear Eddie out. If he isn’t still angry.

As if summoned, there is a soft knock on his door. Immediately his nerves start up again, but his resolve also hardens. He doesn’t want Chris to come home in a house where he’s fighting, he never wants that for Chris. So he calls out: “Yeah?”

“Uhm, ‘m sorry,” Eddie says, the words a little muffled. He’s never been great at them when it isn’t his female relatives, so the fact that he’s saying those words to him at all is kind of touching. “Can- Can I come in?”

“Are you going to yell at me again?” Buck asks, not in the mood to be yelled at more in his room, because that means he can’t run to his room. He might be too forgiving sometimes, but he’s not completely stupid.

“No, no, I shouldn’t have yelled at all,” Eddie answers embarrassed.

“Then you can come in.”

The door is opened carefully and Eddie pokes his head in first, scanning the room and Buck to see if anything is out of place. If there is a threat. It’s a little heartbreaking and a little sweet at the same time.

“Wanna sit?” Buck asks, gesturing to his bed and very much trying to stop his brain from playing connect the dots between Eddie on his bed and other things that can be done on a bed.

Eddie nods, sitting down and looking around Buck’s room. Buck sits next to him, but Eddie doesn’t look at him. He’s used to the quirk and doesn’t take offense, instead waiting Eddie out again. It is clear he has something to say, he just doesn’t know how or is too uncomfortable to say it yet.

“Sorry,” Eddie finally says after a long silence. Two sorries, practically a record out of Eddie.

“It’s okay,” Buck says with a small smile, knocking their shoulders together.

“No, it’s not,” Eddie says, the indigence on Buck’s behalf apparently enough to help him over his discomfort. “I was a dick and you didn’t deserve that. You shouldn’t just forgive me like that.”

“Eddie, what good will it do to stay mad?” Buck states, sternly yet gentle, leveling a look at Eddie as he does.

“I don’t know? Boundaries or something?”

“God, you’re so clueless it’s sad,” Buck snorts, earning a glare. To clarify, he adds: “I can stay mad at you, but then we’ll just be fighting. Us fighting makes me sad. You’re obviously sorry and you didn’t mean it, I don’t need more than that. I’d rather just hear what you wanted to say, before it became a fight.”

“I was telling you that you’re family,” Eddie reminds him, suddenly keen to jump on the change in topic. “I thought you knew you were.”

Buck thinks the sad, kicked puppy vibe Eddie has going on now is worse than when he was mad at him. He can feel his own cheeks darken anyway, because Eddie is including him in family. Under no uncertain terms no less. It’s more than he ever dares to hope for, even if he dreams of so much more.

Timidly he confesses: “I mean, I did. I do. You- you just told me to enjoy time with family, as if I don’t do that every day. It got to me.” He looks Eddie in the eye when he says that and can see the guilt in them as the realization dawns on him.

“That’s not what I meant, at all.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just- I- ugh,” Eddie groans in frustration. “You’re always doing things for me. Always helping me, us.”

“I like helping out and it’s more just doing my part, we’re partners, remember?” Maybe it’s good to remind him of that, maybe that will make it so he’ll soften the blow.

“You shouldn’t have to lie to your sister.”

“And divorcing her will solve that problem how?” Buck asks, now more confused than anything. It is clear that Eddie feels guilty about something, but Buck can’t imagine what. He’s always happily been here, Eddie knows that, right?

At least that might mean he isn’t trying to get rid of Buck now that he can do it solo? Maybe he feels bad that Buck doesn’t have the support of family like he has and wants to try and fix that for him.

Not that Buck calls what Eddie’s family does support (except for Pepa and Abuela). I mean, his parents outright hate all his choices and his sisters aren’t involved in his life enough to have much of an opinion and most of the extended family is either purposefully left in the dark or a little shitty about it too.

Still, it’s sweet that he’s trying, makes Buck feel better about the whole divorce thing, but he doesn’t get how that will help.

Eddie actually perks up slightly as he gets prompted to explain his thought process. It would be kind of adorable, except he is going to explain why divorce is a good option. Now, Buck always knew this marriage would end in divorce, but he’s still going to cling to it, cling to this life he has. It is mildly pathetic, but he doesn’t care. If Eddie can be reasoned out of it, Buck is going to reason to all hell.

“Well, if we get divorced, we won’t be married anymore, thus not breaking any rules. We can say we were already in the process when I started that’s why we didn’t tell anyone. They’ll probably understand and then you can tell Maddie without worrying about her having to keep it from Chimney or us having to worry about her telling him.”

Buck isn’t sure if it’s because he wants this marriage to work for as long as possible or if Eddie just didn’t have time to think it all through, but he can’t help but immediately poke holes in it.

“How will that change anything? We’ll still be written up by HR for not saying, probably separated over it and that is if we don’t lose our jobs. We still lied, Eddie And we’d probably still be a risk, because we’d be raising Chris together. I’d have to check, but it won’t surprise me. Then were will we be at?”

Eddie is quiet, frowning slightly.

When he doesn’t say something, Buck answers his own question: “If we lose our jobs, we won’t be able to afford Carla, we might have to sell the house, and Chris will have to stop at Durand when he just found his place there. Let’s face it, we’re in too deep to ever tell the 118, if I want to tell Maddie, she has to keep it from people.”

At his words Eddie’s frown only deepens and Buck realizes he just told Eddie he’s stuck in this marriage. As much as he wants to be with him, he doesn’t want it because Eddie feels trapped, because Buck wormed his way into a life that was never his to begin with and did what he always did: make himself necessary, so he wouldn’t be abandoned.

“Look,” he starts again, this time more gentle, “if you find someone or you don’t want to do this anymore, we can get divorced behind the scenes. We’ll figure out custody and a schedule so Chris won’t lose a parent again, I promise. But divorce won’t change this thing with Maddie.”

It’s quiet and this time Buck lets it be quiet. Eddie is processing his words and figuring out what he feels about it, that’s no easy task.

After some time, Eddie throws up his hands and – dare he say it – pouts: “It just feels unfair.”

“What does?” Buck asks, a little amused by Eddie’s reaction. And because said reaction makes it seem like Eddie is seeing his side and not divorcing him. Big win for Buck.

“I get to talk about Chris at work, get to take time off to spend it with him, I get to tell family and not worry, and you don’t. It’s unfair,” Eddie exclaims, once again angry on Buck’s behalf, but not directing said anger at Buck. That makes it funny and touching, instead of hurtful. A world of difference.

“It does kind of suck,” Buck admits, because it does. He loves Chris to death, loves his family, he would love nothing more than to brag about it.

But maybe it is for the best, because he’s pretty sure everyone will realize he’s madly in love with Eddie the second he gets to take the mask off and that will mean Eddie will find out about it, because the 118 is horrible at staying out of each other’s business, and then Eddie will run far away from him and break his heart, because Buck isn’t meant to be in love with him. This is a platonic marriage. Platonic.

“See!” Eddie says, vindicated. “We should fix that.”

“As much as I am usually pro-fixing things, this isn’t something that needs to be fixed,” Buck says quickly, before Eddie can take it and run with it.

“It isn’t?” Eddie doesn’t believe it for a second.

“I mean, it would be nice, but it’s not the end of the world. I still get to be Chris’s papi and trust me when I say I brag in those pick up lines at school. Besides, the school interview was an off day, I’m usually better at charming my way into a shift swap. I won’t miss everything. Plus, I am so going to kick you off the science fair team, that’ll be my show.”

Eddie can’t believe how unreal this man is. That he’ll turn anything into a positive, that he sees helping Chris with a science fair project as something fun, instead of a chore. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Buck asks, confused.

“For just being here.”

“Of course I’ll be here,” Buck smiles and it sounds like a promise.

Eddie desperately wants to cling to it, because despite asking for a divorce like an hour ago, he doesn’t want Buck to leave. His own papi always left, his mom turned against him, Shannon left, Abuela was forced to move, army buddies slipped through his fingers. He’s always been on his own, but Buck never left, never made Eddie feel like he wouldn’t be in his corner. He doesn’t want to lose that.

“Me too,” is what he ends up saying, because anything else feels too much like rolling over and showing the soft underside of his belly. He hates doing that.

Still when Buck smiles, it feels like it’s enough. Buck always makes him feel like he’s doing enough.

Buck is over the moon with the promise, the promise that Eddie won’t just leave him like everyone else always seems to do. However, he needs to make sure they’re actually on the same page, so he bumps their shoulders together and asks: “So, are we good? Or do I need to find a lawyer?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Eddie says. Then he clears his throat, obviously done with the emotional talks for today as he asks: “We still have some time before pick up, wanna play some video games?”

“Hell yeah, I’ll kick your ass any day,” Buck grins.

“Bold words for a man, who always loses.”

“You let us play Rainbow Road and we’ll see if you still say that,” Buck bickers, as they get up and make their way to the living room.

Slowly the normal atmosphere returns again and you’d never think they’d just got close to a divorce or that they’d even argued.

Chris is happily oblivious as they pick him up together, just excited they’re getting ice cream and not asking why. Both watch him smear his face with chocolate ice cream fondly. He’s gotten his love for chocolate ice cream from Buck, who is licking his own cone, while Eddie eats his rum and raisin scoop. His actual favorite is citrus, but he never gets it. Buck knows though, he buys it ‘for himself’ sometimes and pretends he doesn’t see the scoops that go missing.

They both know it’s apology ice cream for Chris, who will never know how close they got to turning his life upside down an hour or two ago. It had been Eddie’s idea, the ice cream, and Buck wonders how long he’s going to do the silent guilty thing, where he doesn’t say anything, but tries to make up for something anyway. It always makes Buck feel a little weird.

Fortunately, he needn’t have worried, because after a week of Eddie cleaning obsessively and refilling his coffee like he’s a waiter trying to get a tip, they go back to normal.

It happens when they’re at work, Bobby makes a delicious casserole. Buck is enjoying it when he feels a nudge against his foot. He looks over to Eddie, who looks down at his plate, then at Buck with imploring eyes.

Fondness explodes inside his chest and he gives an indulgent eye roll, even if his insides feel gooey at the silent request, before he asks: “Hey, Bobby, can I get the recipe for this?” getting a triumphant grin from Eddie as he does.

Bobby explains the recipe, while Buck lets the casserole be, so Eddie can go in for seconds. The whole interaction settles something in his chest, finally letting himself believe that Eddie meant what he said during that day.

In a way, it’s been good for them. A kind of check in to see where they stand. They both have an out and both have assured the other they don’t want it.

Buck is still waiting for the day Eddie does, for the day he’ll come home from a date and know that this is the one. He knows his heart will break when he signs those divorce papers, but the knowledge that Eddie won’t just leave him, soothes the sting of that future.

Eddie, on the other hand, has been assured that Buck still wants to be here, that he doesn’t just want to run and isn’t waiting for the day Eddie will be able to do it by himself. They’re partners. A team. He doesn’t have to do it alone, Buck doesn’t expect him to. It’s not a chore to him.

So, they move on, both more secure in themselves as they work together as they’ve always done, while Christmas slowly approaches.

~~

A/N:

This is more communication Eddie has done than in all his years of life combined, but by god, Buck will have normal conversations with people and Eddie’s crush on Buck will make him do wild shit to get Buck to stay (even if he doesn’t know that’s why he’s doing it) ((I am manifesting this energy for Eddie in 8x09))

And yes, last chapter was a bit of a fake out, I fully enjoyed all the comments and felt very evil, made my week, thank you so much <3

Also shout out to Eddie for the giant brick wall he built his a brain and just doesn’t allow him to examine his feelings for Buck too deeply, like I know repression is one hell of a drug, but seriously? This is getting out of hand and I’m writing you!

[junglemax]

hangman has to babysit.

[mini drabble]

“-dinner is in the fridge, you just have to pop it into the oven,” Christian says, putting his coat on. “Thanks for doing this for me. I owe you one.”

“No problem,” Hangman says. He doesn’t understand why two adults need babysitting, let alone two adults that aren’t even actually related to Christian, but he’s getting free food and another favor added onto his title shot, so it’s not the worst thing in the world.

“If they cause any problems, text me.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Hangman assures. “Go.”

~

It really isn’t a problem, thankfully. Nick and Kip mostly keep to themselves, and Hangman just sits on the couch, reading the book he brought.

Nick leans over the couch next to Hangman. “When’s Father going to be back?”

Hangman pauses his reading, comprehending the words that were being spoken to him before he turns and looks at Nick. “You actually call him ‘Father’?”

“Yeah? What else would I call him?”

Christian, Dad, turtleneck guy- Hangman can think of a bunch of better names other than Father.

“I don’t call him Father,” Kip says matter-of-factly, stepping next to Nick with a smirk. “Christian does fine. Or Daddy works, too.”

Nick immediately pushes Kip away and attempts to kick at him. “Don’t be gross.” He turns to Hangman. “Can’t you do something about him?”

Hangman looks over at Kip, and is frankly at a loss, because what is he supposed to do? He’s never been in the position to have to discipline a grown adult.

“What is he gonna do, ground me?” Kip scoffs. “Oh, I’m so scared. Quit being a baby.”

“Hangman,” Nick whines, pointing at Kip.

“Quit it, both of you,” Hangman says, “or I’ll tell Christian you weren’t behaving.”

It works, miraculously, as Kip raises his hands in surrender and sulks off.

“I don’t know why I had to be part of that,” Nick grumbles, pushing off the couch.

Because you’re being annoying, Hangman wants to say, but doesn’t, and instead turns back to his book.

[prcttylittlebirds]

“no— i mean the kid. she’s always wanted kids and now she’s getting it. that’s what mean. i’m happy for her, despite how things have been going with the whole divorce thing and the scare. i’m ok with the outcome now.” the way rafael invisions becoming a father never matched olivia’s because she was always ready to become a mother and rafael felt like he needed to get ready, be prepared. the pregnacy scare did just that— scare him. on the brightside, it did make him think about where he saw himself in a few years time. he wants to be a father of course, but his career is doing so well now and he wouldn’t want to have to divide his time between family and work. if he ever becomes a father he plans to be there for everything, and if olivia’s baby was his, there would’ve been so much traveling back-and-forth. “i wouldn’t want you to lie about it. i want to know the whole thing, even if it sucks to hear. i promise i won’t freak out like that again. i don’t plan on having any issues with christopher in the future, i haven’t had any with him before this so, why I start now just because i like you, right? i can be… cordial with anybody if i put enough effort into it.” the rain sounds nice, even though it’s inconveniencing them and he is getting hungry now. “i have trail mix and other snacks in my bag. the trail mix doesn’t have any fruit in it though cause i hate raisins…oh, there’s a bag of popcorn in there, it’s just salted.” he knows she most likely has her own snacks, but he can’t help but offer his own. “ I don’t mind being trapped in here with you, it’s basically exactly what i asked for. that got me teased by gavin of course, but it’s fine.”

"the olivia thing, that's resolved the most it can be. she got what she's been wanting since we got married. the divorce was going to happen, it was inevitable, really. " and it was, after olivia saw those emails that was her last straw. he can't blame her for moving on so quickly, though initially, he did feel like zachary was better than he was, for her. zachary had always had a thing for olivia and he never hid it. olivia would always laugh it off whenever raf brought it up in passing, and he let it go. that is, until olivia told him she slept with him after finding the emails between him and a woman he met online. he felt he was slighted, but he knows that he deserved that. she knew for awhile and waited to figure out her next move, is what she calmly said when she broke the news and slid the papers across the table during dinner in front of his family. raf's starting to think that's why christopher is bothering him to this degree. "i could've joked about it, yeah. you're right. normally, i would do that. that was the better reaction." he doesn't like that those feelings of uncertainty are resurfacing, it's not the same. "i know that I'm being ridiculous, i don't know what you and christopher's relationship is like, i shouldn't assume." rafael appreciates the conversation that they're having even though there's still tension looming. "i prefer to not be drunk around you, i fear I'll start reciting shakespeare like lyrics. alright, well.. i can't cook... i like your cooking anyway. it's never charred."

[paperglader]

they really put alicent in bridgerton blue on the reunion and genuinely expected me to think that she didn’t in fact march all the way to dragonstone to get wifed up? bfr

[blaithnne]

If I may, how do you typically approach choosing colors in your art? It always has just a lovely feel to it, so I was a bit curious; don't feel pressured to answer ofc :]

I’ve been using a lot of gradient maps lately, they work by switching the greys in your piece with a corresponding colour according to its value. Basically, I colour in black and white, grab a gradient map, and then I adjust the colours by hand until I’m happy with it. This isn’t the only kind of colouring I do, but it works great if you’re in a rush or you’re struggling to find a good starting point for your colours. I’ve been operating under a time crunch for these Sketchbook Week drawings and the Plenism promo stuff I made, so for all except one I used gradient maps. I’m actually in a bit of a funk with my colours right now soooo I’ll come back and do a proper colouring tutorial for my style once I’m happier with how my non gradient mapped colours are looking !

[kavehater]

Chappel Roan saying she’s sad she’s demisexual and then there’s me being aroace as a whole like don’t you think I’m even more sad 😭

[tanjir0se]

Is the world ready for my Sanemi conspiracy theory? Should I include it in Love Me Mercilessly? Is it time for me to speak my truth?

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[danielnelsen]

there’s so much i wanna do this week/month/etc but i’m just too sick, i have no energy, i can’t sleep, i’m constantly nauseous and headachey and on the verge of a migraine, i’m stressed and irritable and impatient and panicky…….how tf did i survive nearly 5 years of high school untreated if i can’t even manage this when i don’t have any major obligations rn