#since that’s what I’m listening to now

[eccentricwritingbaby]

i miss you, i’m sorry 

lando norris x reader

summary - breakup, missed calls, and lando at your doorstep. 

masterlist 

-

do you remember happy together?

i do, don’t you?

“hi, you’ve reached y/n! i can’t come to the phone right now but please leave me a messa-”

click. lando stares down at his phone, the daunting contact photo of you two together and happy staring back at him. mocking him. his eyes are brimmed with salty tears, his head mentally begging you to call him back. 

you had broken up one month ago, pressures of life forcing the two of you to become resentful and angry, with a common thought that you would both be better off apart. after two years together he moved out of your shared apartment, giving it to you, and finding his own. but, within a week, lando had missed you too deeply to even recognize any faults near the end, just hopelessly attempting to contact you in any way. he had called you every day since then, always getting your voicemail and never having the right mind to leave one. 

the boxes scattered around his apartment were just inanimate reminders of you, and how much he wished he would’ve never left. how much he wished he would have fought for you and your love, a love that hadn’t disappeared the more you two were apart, it only grew stronger. 

you said ‘forever’, in the end i fought it

please, be honest, are we better for it?

thought you’d hate me, but instead you called

and said, “i miss you”

i caught it

lando fell back into the couch, his dark phone haunting him as he reminisced. what was so bad about the end? you couldn’t make a few races? he knew his love radiated and compensated for that. he could deal with missed races and conflicting schedules if it meant having you back in his life. as he sits, the slight buzzing of his phone catches him out of his trance, and your smiling face appears on his screen. quick and slightly sweating fingers slide across the screen, answering fast with a clearing of his throat. 

“h-hello?” his voice slightly cracks into the phone. 

“hi,” he hears you sigh from the other line, his smile finally coming back as he hears your current voice, “you called?” 

“been calling,” lando tries to lighten the mood, “‘m glad you called back,”

“me too,” your soft voice is music to his ears, “i, i miss you,” your small confession was everything to lando as his full smile returned to his face for the first time since your ultimate breakup. 

“miss you too, love,” he sighs out in relief, “been needin’ to hear your voice,”

“yours too,”

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry

“how’ve you been?” he subtly asks, his fingers now playing with the hem of his shirt - a nervous habit he had picked up from you in your years together. 

“have to admit, not that good,” he hears your giggle through his phone and his heart jumps with love, “the apartment feels too quiet without you here,” 

“my new one feels too empty without you here,” lando replies, his hand runs down his face, preparing himself for his next question, “listen, i-i know you said you didn’t want to see me but-”

“come over,” your voice interrupts, already knowing what he was going to ask, “please,” your voice drops into your most vulnerable octave, and lando is already scrambling to retrieve his keys in order to head out the door to your old shared apartment, to you. 

“be there in five, love,” he responds swiftly, jogging out the door in order to make it towards you faster. 

everything i know brings me back to us

i don’t wanna go, we’ve been here before

everywhere i go leads me back to you

the gentle knocking at your door brings you out of your post-call fog and back into reality. he was here. the man that walked out of your life easily and then wouldn’t leave you alone to heal is here. and fuck, you were so happy to see him. 

the breakup hadn’t been your first decision either, the words had just shouted out of your mouth before you could think things through in a fit of rage. and lando listened. and left. but now he’s here. 

opening the door you’re faced with the man you loved, love. his bright eyes and curly hair still the same, his hoodie and joggers making him ever so soft, and the smile graced on his face was hard to miss. 

“hi,” he whispers, almost afraid to scare you off.

“hi,” you whisper back, same fears in your brain as his, “come in,” you gesture to the inside of your once shared apartment, and he easily steps in, bringing a warmth that was missing to the space and making it a home again. just like that. 

“wow,” he states, keeping his same quiet demeanor, “i’ve missed this place,” looking around, his eyes land on you, “i’ve missed you,”

“i’ve missed you too, lan,” you take a step towards him, “i miss you, a-and i’m sorry, for everything,”

“why are you apologizing?” he takes your hands into his own, giving them both a soft squeeze, “i should be the one apologizing, i just left when things got hard instead of working on it and figuring it out, i-”

“no no,” you cut off his ranting, “i should have never suggested a breakup, that was my fault,”

“and i should have never gone along with it, i should’ve stayed, should’ve fought,”

“you did fight, lan,” your eyes begin to gloss as you look up at him, “you called and called, i just shut you out-”

“then don’t shut me out now, give me another chance,” his pulls your hands that are in his to wrap around his neck as his own land on your waist, “please, baby, give us another chance,”

“i love you,” you whisper, “i still love you, of course i want to be with you again,” lando doesn’t hesitate, now knowing you’re on the same page as him and moves forward to capture your lips into a breathtaking kiss.

“god i’ve missed this,” he pants, forehead resting against yours, “please never break up with me again,”

“please never leave again,” you whisper back.

“wouldn’t even dream of it, baby,”

[wonderl3ss]

Fantasize

Pairing: pro hero!Katsuki Bakugo x fem!reader

Warnings: (not proofread) SMUT! Praise, degradation, pet names, (baby, slut) unprotected p in v, use of y/n, not exactly cheating but he breaks up w his gf for reader; homewrecker reader.

A/n: I absolutely in no way condone cheating or going after someone in a relationship; everything I write is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only — It does not reflect any of my personal preferences. That being said, this is, once again, inspired by an Ariana Grande song.

Katsuki Bakugo was not a stranger to you, nor were you to him. Infact, you’d been decently close friends since UA. You’d never harboured any sort of romantic feelings for him back then as he was too immature for your liking. Now, however, he’s different, he’s grown.

Not just mentally, but physically too. He’s huge; 6’2 and pure muscle. He’s matured into the number 3 pro-hero. Everyone wants a piece of him, but, unfortunately only one person is lucky enough — his girlfriend.

You’re jealous of her. It should be you getting manhandled and fucked dumb by him, not her.

These feelings didn’t happen until a few weeks ago when he was on some talkshow being interviewed. He looked incredible. He was wearing this tight, black shirt that left nothing to the imagination. You could see every single dip and bump of muscle. It had your pussy throbbing.

Until the interviewer asked him about his love life and he’d confirmed he was taken. There was something about the fact he was unavailable that made you want him twice as much. No, you needed him. And you’d do whatever it took to make him yours. Whether his girlfriend knew or not, you didn’t care.

Currently, you, Mina, Eijirou, Denki, Hanta and of course, Katsuki and his girlfriend, are at some bar in the middle of town getting drinks and catching up.

You’re all a little tipsy and [un]lucky for you, the alcohol has gone straight to your pussy. It also doesn’t help that Katsuki looks insanely good. He’s not wearing anything fancy or inherently sexy, just a regular black t-shirt and some slightly baggy jeans. But, to you (and your pussy) he looks incredible.

He’s at the bar talking to Eijirou, with his girlfriend stood at his side and a beer in his hand. You’re sat at a booth with Mina, she’s chatting about something but you’re not listening. All your attention is on said blond.

Mina has no idea about your infatuation with Katsuki, but she’s bound to know after tonight. The way you’re looking at him isn’t hiding anything. She knows that look. She knows you.

“He’s taken, ya’know,” she says. This catches your attention; you know who she’s talking about.

“I know,” you simply reply. What else is there to say? She doesn’t need to know your plan, atleast, not yet.

“So why’re you looking at him like you’re a predator and he’s the prey? You’re not seriously gonna go after a taken man, are you?” She knows you can and will.

You just look at her, the expression on your face saying ‘he won’t be taken when I get him.’ Mina just shakes her head.

“Where’d this come from, anyway? This sudden want for Katsuki?” She takes a sip from her cocktail, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “But I’m gonna get what I want… I always do.” You look away, closing your eyes as you finish up the rest of your own drink.

Mina just laughs. You both know what you’re doing is wrong but neither of you care. Mina won’t say it but she never really liked Katsukis girlfriend anyway, so she couldn’t care less if you break them up.

You look back over and Katsuki and he’s on his own. You guess his girlfriend’s in the bathroom and Eijirou is talking to Denki or Hanta. You stand and nod your head toward the bar where Katsuki stands as if to say to Mina ‘I’m gonna get another drink (and my man.)’

Mina smiles and stands too, but makes her way toward whenever Eijirou is.

You get to the bar and order yourself another drink.

“Want one?” You ask Katsuki, “my treat,” you smile.

His answer is short and sweet, a simple, “sure.”

So you order him another beer; you know which one is his favourite.

“You know, I could be a lot better than her,” you’re not subtle with what you’re doing. You know what you want and you’re going to get what you want, there’s no point in beating around the bush.

At first, he’s taken aback by your words. He wasn’t expecting this from you, however, he can’t say he’s disappointed. You’re attractive, and he’s not going to deny that he’s thought about you in a sexual aspect before. He just wasn’t expecting you to have thought the same about him. Despite the fact his girlfriend is all but a few steps away, he decides to flirt back.

What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?

“Oh, really?” Your drinks arrive and he takes a swig. “I don’t know… I think she’s already good enough,”

You take a swig of your own drink, it burning slightly as it goes down your throat, but it only makes the fire in you hotter.

“Guess I’ll just have to show you sometime. I can offer a lot more than she can, in more ways than one,” you smirk at him, finally making eye contact.

He just lets out an ‘mhm’ while returning the smirk. You can sense a fire in his eyes. He’s actually thinking about it.

You peer over his shoulder and see his girlfriend is making her way back over. You take this as your cue to leave and go find Mina, you give him a wink, making sure his girlfriend doesn’t see — not that you care if she does.

You spend the rest of the night talking to Denki and Hanta, occasionally looking at Katsuki only to find he’s already staring at you from over his drink.

A few weeks later, a tonne more days of flirting and you know you’re so close to getting what you want. Just one more day and it’ll be yours, you can feel it.

A little birdie told you (Denki, ever the gossip) that Katsuki and his girlfriend have been going through what can only be described as a ‘rough patch’. Supposedly, he’s not been paying her as much attention as before. He’s distracted.

Now, all you need is the confirmation that they’ve officially broken up.

And it doesn’t take long.

It’s time for one of your weekly meet-ups, and lucky for you it’s at your place this week. You’ve got Katsuki right where you want him.

Everyone has turned up already, except for him.

You’re sat around your coffee table, laughing and sharing anecdotes about your week when he finally arrives. Alone.

Eijirou, his best friend, is the first to speak up about this. It’s not any secret within your group that somethings going on between Katsuki and his significant other, but nothings actually been said out loud about it, until now.

“Hey, man! Nice’a ya’ to join us, your girl not coming?”

“Nah, we broke up,” BINGO. The one thing you’ve wanted so insanely bad has finally fallen right into your hands. He’s yours.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Eijirou rubs the back on his neck, afraid he’s now made it awkward.

“It’s cool, don’t worry about it.” Katsuki shrugs and makes his way toward where you’re all sat, and he sits down right next to Eijirou, which also just so happens to be opposite you. You stare at eachother; you both know what’s going to happen after everyone leaves.

The night continues on and you and Katsuki have been giving eachother ‘fuck me’ eyes. You’re sure everybody’s noticed, but neither of you care.

Finally, the night comes to a close and everyone is beginning to leave. You’ve waved Denki and Hanta goodbye already and are chatting to Mina as Eijirou announces that he’s heading home. You all give him your goodbyes and now it’s just you, Katsuki and Mina left.

“Go get your man.” Mina leans in to whisper toward you. She turns away and gathers up her stuff, giving you one last wink and a smile before also leaving.

The second Katsuki hears the door shut he walks over to you, you look up at him and he speaks, “gonna show me now?” He’s referring to what you said back at the bar a month ago.

His hands find your hips and yours reach up to wrap around his neck; you’re so close you can feel his breath on your face. You smile, then waste no time in clashing your lips together.

The kiss is heated and rushed and Katsuki ends up backing you into a wall, this eliciting a small noise from the back of your throat akin to that of a moan.

His hands slide lower, down to your ass as he lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his hips and the friction between you becomes unbearable. He’s pressed so close to you that you can feel his boner growing right on your clit.

He breaks away from the kiss only for his mouth to latch onto your neck, sucking a bruise there. You moan and attempt to grind yourself down onto him. You need him inside you, now.

“Kats… bedroom,” you mutter breathlessly. You don’t have to tell him twice before he’s carrying you into your room and throwing you onto the bed, and hovering over you.

“Been thinking about this for so long,” he whispers before kissing you once again. You don’t think you’ve ever had anyone kiss you this good before.

He begins to unbuckle his belt and you sit up on your elbows to watch. The second his jeans fall onto the floor your eyes are on his boner. The thin fabric of his boxers doing nothing to hide it. He’s huge.

Then, he’s prying your legs apart and standing between them. His hands find the bottom of your shirt and usher you to take it off. You do exactly that. His own shirt follows yours right after.

“Need you so bad,” you all but moan as you look up at him, and he swears there’s lust in your eyes.

“Yeah? Need this dick so bad, huh? ‘S all yours, baby,” and with that your own jeans are joining his on the floor, leaving you both in just your underwear.

There’s no hiding the little wet spot that’s pooled in your underwear, and Katsuki notices.

��This wet for me already? I’ve not even touched you yet. Fuck,” he bites his lip and reaches round to undo your bra. His lips attach back to yours as your bra is then slid down your arms and thrown god knows where onto the floor.

His hand slides down to your clit and presses a finger to your clit, rubbing little circles onto it over your underwear, your head is thrown back and a moan leaves your throat.

Your pleasure is short-lived, though, as he removes it to grab ahold of your hips and pull you forward toward where he’s stood at the edge of the bed.

He leaves a trail of kisses down the middle of your breasts as he pulls your underwear down your thighs. The gusset sticks just a little, showcasing just how wet you are for him.

He’s honestly never been so turned on in his life; cannot believe this is what he’s been missing out on.

He steps back just an inch to begin taking off his own boxers, and you’re already missing the heat from his body.

You’re both completely naked now. Your pussy feels like it has its own heartbeat and if he doesn’t get inside you without the best few seconds, you feel you’re going to explode.

“Need you inside, Katsuki,” you plead, looking into his eyes. You’ve been waiting over a month for this, there is no way you’re waiting any longer, even if just a few seconds.

“Want me to fuck you like the slut you are, yeah?” Is all he says before he’s tapping the head of his cock on your clit. He drags it down to your entrance and gathers up your slick before beginning to push the tip in.

Your arms give way and you fall onto your back. He’s only put the tip in but you can already feel the stretch. He’s bigger than any man you’ve had before, and fuck, you cannot believe he’d been giving this to her.

You don’t have to worry about that now, because he’s right here. Right where you wanted him. And he’s going to fuck you dumb just like you’ve wished for.

You shut your eyes as you feel him push himself all the way in, you both simultaneously let out a moan. You, because he’s so big, and him, because you’re so tight.

His head finds the crook of your neck and rests there as he pulls back out, not all the way, before slamming back in.

You can feel — hear — his breaths getting deeper as he begins to thrust into you. It’s a slow pace; he’s allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Already so much better,” he mumbles into your neck, leaving a soft kiss there before lifting his head and looking at your blissed out face, “couldn’t think of anything but you for the past month. Every time I fucked her, I couldn’t help but wish it was you,”

And that’s exactly what you wanted to hear. Another moan leaves your throat while your nails are digging and scratching up and down his back.

“Katsuki, please just shut up and fuck me.” Your legs wrap around his waist, your heels pressing into his back along with your fingernails.

“Don’t worry, baby, gonna fuck this slutty lil’ pussy till you can’t walk.” He takes a finger and starts circling it on your clit, pounding into you at a pace you’re unable to keep up with.

He can feel your pussy clenching around him, can tell you’re close. His eyes leave yours as he glances down to where you’re joined together and there’s a ring around the base of his cock where his pre-cum has mixed with your juices. Fuck, he’s getting close too.

“Shit… gonna cum,” you’re just able to stutter out.

“Doing so good for me, baby. C’mon, cum on my cock,” and the praise is all you need, the switch in you flipping and you’re gushing around his cock.

His mouth meets yours for one last sloppy kiss while he fucks you though your orgasm, overstimulation already settling in.

“Where?” He asks, but you’re unsure of what exactly he’s asking. He truly has fucked you dumb and he’s not even done that much.

He can tell by the look on your face your overstimulated and confused, so he elaborates, “gonna cum… where?” And you finally understand.

“Inside! Fuck… inside, Katsuki!” One last thrust and he’s letting out a breathless groan before you feel the warmth of his cum filling you up.

He stays inside for just a moment while you both catch your breaths. A slight squelch and a moan is heard from you as he finally pulls out. He stands back and admires his handiwork, smiling at your face — your eyes are closed, mouth is hanging open and your hair is clinging to your forehead from the sweat. He thinks you’ve never looked so gorgeous.

Your eyes open and slowly meet his. You smile back at him, a blush rising to your cheeks. How is it that you’re getting flustered now?

He hovers back over you, leans down and presses a small kiss to your lips. “You’re mine, you hear me? All mine. Ain’t no way I’m letting you leave after that,” the quiet chuckle he gives after saying this is one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard. You’ve never been happier getting what you want.

You nod. “Yeah… yours,” too tired and fucked-out to form a proper sentence. You feel him begin to lift you from the bed and help you walk to the bathroom, probably to clean you up, but what happens after that is all a blurred memory.

You wanted him to fuck you dumb, and fuck you dumb is what he did.

Another month passes and you’ve both made it official to the others. Katsuki is now officially, yours, and you his. Mina was the first to know, of course, you had messaged her the morning after.

You’re with Katsuki in the back of a limousine. You’re wearing a fancy, low-cut, tight, red dress with a slit down one of the legs, while Katsuki is in a marching red and black suit. He looks incredible — even better than he did in that interview when you first fell for him.

The limousine comes to a stop and the door is then opening. Katsuki exists first, holding a hand out for you to grab onto as you exit right behind him. There are cameras flashing from every angle.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been out in public with Katsuki, there have been other paparazzi pictures of you, but it’s the first time you’ve been in public with the intention of letting everyone know you’re a couple.

As he walks down the carpet with you, there are questions being shouting at you both, left right and centre, but only one specific question catches your attention, “y/n! What do you have to say about the rumours of you being a homewrecker?”

“I could never do anything like that. I mean, I would, but, I’m just too nice, and too hot.” is the only thing you reply before turning your attention back to Katsuki, a smirk on your face.

You’ve got what you want now, who cares how you got it?

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[hotshotsxyz]

living lies and compromise

(8b spec) (buddie) (879 words) spoilers for 8x08! set a few days after eddie returns from texas and i still managed to make it angsty :) i bet you'll never guess what band i stole the title from

The knock on Buck’s door isn’t entirely unexpected. He doesn’t know what to do with it, though, doesn’t know how to exist in this strange liminal space where Eddie’s back but everything is still different.

A few months ago, Eddie would’ve used his key and walked straight in. A few months ago, Buck would’ve welcomed him with open arms. As it stands, he hesitates. Just for a moment, but—

It’s been a long time since Buck was hesitant with Eddie. He hates it.

He opens the door, and the smile he greets Eddie with feels brittle and fake.

“Hey, man,” Buck says, trying trying trying to make it come out right. He hears it, though—it doesn’t sound the same.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. He hoists a six pack in the air, and if Buck squints he can almost pretend this is exactly what it used to be. That they’re what they used to be.

“Come—come in,” Buck invites. He can’t remember the last time either of them waited for permission like this.

Eddie swallows visibly and steps into the loft for the first time since—god, he’s not actually sure. Right after Halloween, maybe?

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He drops the beer on the counter but makes no move to grab one.

Silence stretches between them. It’s not uncomfortable, necessarily, but it’s also not the kind that falls when everything that needs to be said is out in the open and everything left can wait.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Eddie says finally, achingly quiet.

Buck shakes his head. “I am, of course I’m happy to see you,” he says.

“Please don’t do that.” Eddie’s eyes are wide and sincere, and if Buck’s not careful—

“Eddie,” he says, pleading, “I am, you have no idea.”

“Then why…” He gestures vaguely at the space between them. Why the distance? Why the reticence? Why aren’t they falling together the way they always have?

Buck bites his lip and steps into Eddie’s space to grab a beer for himself. He retreats, but he doesn’t go far.

He pops the cap off and sighs. “You left,” he says simply.

Eddie stumbles back against the counter. “But I came back,” he says. “And I thought you understood.”

Buck offers him a sad little smile. “I did. I do. But—coming back wasn’t the plan.”

“Did you… not want me to?” Eddie asks, small and a tiny bit incredulous.

“No,” Buck says, watching as Eddie’s disbelief turns to hurt. “I didn’t want you to come back. I needed you to.”

A wounded noise escapes Eddie’s lips. “I did,” he says.

“What about next time?” Buck asks. He wishes he didn’t sound so raw and ragged, but it hardly matters when Eddie’s the one listening.

“What?” He breathes, punched out like a cough.

Buck looks over Eddie’s shoulder, out the window and into the vague glow of night in Los Angeles. He takes a swig of his beer.

“I need you, Eddie, I still—the whole time you were gone it felt like—like I was missing a limb. And I can’t—I can’t keep needing you like this, not if I don’t get to keep you,” Buck admits. “So I just… I have to figure out how to stop. But I can’t do that when you’re here.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says desperately. “Please don’t. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”

“I’m not sure I know how to survive believing that again,” Buck replies.

Eddie takes a step forward, close enough now that Buck can feel his breath ghosting across his skin.

“Look at me?” he asks.

Buck’s never been able to deny him much of anything.

“I kept looking for you. I’d see something funny and I’d turn, because I wanted to see your reaction. The front door would open, and I kept thinking you were going to be the one to walk through it. Hell, every time I went to the grocery store I wanted to call you to make sure everything we needed was on the list.”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

His hand drifts toward Buck’s shoulder, just like it always seems to, but this time it doesn’t stop. Eddie reaches until his fingers are resting against Buck’s neck and his thumb is slowly sweeping across his jaw.

“You need me?” he asks.

Buck nods.

“Good,” Eddie says in a rush of air. “Because I need you too, okay? So please don’t stop, please don’t pull away. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump. He takes the last step forward and pulls Buck into a tight hug.

There’s this thing Buck’s been trying not to look at. It’s been growing in size, taking up more and more of his field of vision since the moment Eddie left for Texas. It’s been fuzzy and hard to discern, difficult to ignore but easy to avoid putting a name to. As he melts into Eddie’s arms, though, everything comes into sharp relief.

It’s need. It’s want. It’s love.

And the thing is, Buck knows how this goes. But what the hell? It’ll be a privilege, getting his heart broken by Eddie Diaz.

He clings a little tighter.

[ninikrumbs]

taste me too

Satoru Gojo x reader. fluff. domestic satoru. teeny weeny bit of angst

Ever since you started dating Satoru, you have never felt that tinge of loneliness you use to feel. Not that you minded being alone. It was peaceful.

You used to go watch a movie in the cinema alone. Eat at that new restaurant with a table for one. Have cozy nights in with homemade face masks and belting out to your favorite singer of the week, self care and whatnot. In your opinion, why miss out on the things you want to do just because you’re on your own?

But now, you look to the side and there’s another hand in your popcorn basket, just as giddy for the Barbie movie. You look down at your plate and you see your steak already sliced for your convenience under the romantically lit restaurant. The man in front of you with bright blue eyes, gazing at you so endearingly with a goofy grin on his face as he listened to you babble about your day. And lastly, it wasn’t just you belting out on your hairbrush with a matcha green face mask on his face and a headband pulling back his snowy white hair.

Maybe you didn’t mind being alone, but with Satoru sitting on top of the toilet seat as he gazes up at you almost reverent like - silently waiting for his turn to try out the new lip balm you bought for the cold winter months-always wanting to be included, your eyes burn.

“Toru, stop staring.”

He pouts, “I’m just waiting for you to be done.”

You roll your eyes affectionately before you continue swiping the new balm on your dry lips, it smells like strawberry. Satisfied, you smack your lips together with a grin. Lips now soft and moisturized. “Wow! its really nice and doesn’t feel sticky.”

You turn to Satoru to hand him the lipbalm. To your surprise, he was already standing up, looking at you expectantly. “My turn, my turn!”

You laugh at his excitement, shaking your head fondly. “Here.”

You missed the mischievous glint in his eyes as his hand reaches up to supposedly grab the lipbalm from your hand. He then seemingly misses and cups your face instead. You were slightly taken aback, confused at what he was doing. “Toru what-”

You were cut you short when he leans down and plants his lips on your newly glossed ones. Your mind somewhat convinced yourself that he was ruining your lipstick so you push him back a bit. “Toru-”

But to no avail, as he pulls you by waist, flushed to his chest. He angles his head and kisses you again, deeper this time. It makes you feel warm and hazy. The smacking of lips echoes throughout the bathroom, the balm only making it more distinct. You grab onto the collar of his sweater to ground yourself. The kiss is slow and passionate and as he licks your bottom lip, his tongue tangling with yours, you forgot why you were protesting in the first place.

To your dismay, the both of you needed oxygen. You pull away first, his lips chasing yours before you hid your face in his chest, breathing heavily. “Let me breath a sec,”

He wraps his arms around your body and you feel his heart thumping fast through his chest making you smile. He chuckles, the sound flitting through you. “You’re right, it is nice- amazing even.”

You lift you head to glare at him but it has no real force behind it. “You’re shameless, you know that? Here I thought you wanted to try it!”

And he has the gal to grin, “I did try it!” He licks his lips and hums in delight, yet you doubt there were any traces of the lipbalm left. “Tastes so good too.”

Despite everything, you feel your face burn. “Youre officially kicked out of self care night!”

“What? Nooo! Baby, I was just teasing-”

Yes, you might not have any shred of peace ever again, but you don’t mind. Not one bit.

^^ comments are much appreciated <3

[gayeddieagenda]

❤️ 🎵 Number 9 if you’re still doing the prompts? thank you!! I hope you’re having a good day!

another scene prompt game! - 9: listening to the other’s heartbeat + ❤️ 🎵

--

“Huh,” Buck says.

Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s. “What?”

“I’m not trying to freak you out,” Buck says. He has his serious face on and that, more than anything, makes Eddie squint at him, suspicious. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I had a checkup a month ago, jackass.”

“Texas doctors?” Buck says skeptically. Eddie huffs at him. Buck adjusts his grip on Eddie’s arm, pressing his index and middle fingers more firmly into Eddie’s wrist. “It’s probably nothing. It’s just, I can’t find your pulse.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“I’m being serious!” Buck tries another spot on Eddie’s wrist, then another, shaking his head both times: nothing. “You should definitely have a pulse.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, deadpan. “What if I’m already dead?”

Six months. Eddie waited six months to see Buck in person again. Buck had made a noise like a dying animal on the phone, when they realized that he was going to be in the first hour of a 48-hour shift when Eddie and Chris got in from Texas.

Then, when Bobby asked if Eddie wanted to be scheduled for the last 24 hours of the same shift or wait four more days until his first shift back, Eddie signed on for the earlier shift without thinking twice about it. It meant not waiting a second longer to be back where he belongs—at the 118, on the job. It also meant this: seeing Buck for the first time since…since Texas, since everything, surrounded by all their coworkers.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says. “I have something else I can try.”

Buck releases Eddie’s hand. Eddie draws his arm back to his body, unconsciously reaching his other hand up to grip his wrist where Buck’s hand had been holding him a second ago.

Buck gestures at Eddie’s neck. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Buck said. His voice was low and frustrated through the phone. “Not like this.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling furious, feeling lightheaded. Feeling alone, in a silent Texas house three sizes too big for him. “This is it. I’m here. You’re there. If you’re pissed at me, I’d rather you just tell me.”

Buck reaches for the collar of Eddie’s turnouts. He peels back the velcro strip covering the neck, then undoes the top snaps—one, two, three. He hooks two fingers of one hand on Eddie’s chin, tilting his head back. Sets two fingers of his other hand on Eddie’s neck, just below his jaw, in the divot just behind his trachea, just in front of the muscle.

It’s stupid. Eddie’s fine. He fell down, that’s all. He was rounding a corner to get back to the engine when a kid came sprinting around the other side, running at full force. She ran headfirst into his stomach and they both went sprawling on the grass. Buck caught up to them first, checking over the kid and giving her a sticker after telling her she should consider a career in wrestling. Eddie pushed himself up from the ground, angling to sneak back to the engine and drop off his gear. Buck caught his arm, giving him a where do you think you’re going? look.

So, now they’re here. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, parked in South Pasadena at two in the morning, Chimney’s classic rock radio station still playing quietly from the front seats. The kitchen fire that called them out was put out half an hour ago, but when the upstairs neighbor cracked his door to figure out what had brought a fire truck to his driveway, his cat bolted. Chim spotted her up a tree in the backyard—literally, a cat stuck in a tree. It doesn’t get much more stereotypical than that.

Chimney’s got it handled, apparently, though it’s been twenty minutes and he and the cat are both still in the tree. Eventually, he’s going to get the cat down or some new emergency will materialize from nothing and someone will come looking for Buck and Eddie—but for now, for a minute, they’re alone.

The pads of Buck’s fingers are gentle on the side of Eddie’s neck. His hands are warm. Buck presses in, just enough pressure on Eddie’s throat for him to feel it.

He’s looking Eddie in the eye while he touches him. Eddie looks back. He takes in a slow breath, feeling his throat expand under Buck’s hand. Watches Buck blink back at him. They’re so close like this, Eddie can see where Buck missed a spot shaving just below his sideburns, where Buck’s hair dried flat to his head when he had to pull on his helmet straight out of the shower. He can see where his eyes are crinkling at the corners, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Nope,” Buck says. “Still nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says dryly. “Do you need to start CPR?”

“I’m sure I can think of something else before it comes to that.”

“I’m not taking off my pants for you to check my femoral.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, Eddie. We’re at work.”

Buck takes his hand off Eddie’s neck. Eddie misses it immediately.

He backs up a little, as far as he can get in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. He rests his hands on his hips, giving Eddie an assessing look.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Buck said, voice low. “That’s why I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

“Come on,” Buck said. “That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty sure I’m the firefighter here, thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Buck says.

His hands are back on Eddie’s jacket, undoing the rest of the snaps and opening his jacket. He hooks a hand in Eddie’s suspenders, pulling lightly at them, adjusting Eddie until he’s sitting on the edge of the gurney, knees between Buck’s legs. Eddie goes easily.

Buck places a hand on Eddie’s chest, above his heart.

They’re at work, Eddie reminds himself. It’s two in the morning and it’s Pasadena, it’s the distant sound of Chimney going here, kitty-kitty, and the low hum of the radio.

Buck glances at the ambulance doors. They left them open a crack, but all they can see through the gap is the empty street, cast in yellow and red from the streetlamps and the fire engine lights. No one’s looking for them.

Buck turns back to Eddie. He leans in in one movement, replacing his hand with his ear to Eddie’s chest.

It’s awkward, kind of. The ambulance isn’t exactly roomy and Buck is folded in at a weird angle to get his face to Eddie’s chest. Eddie knows he still smells like the kitchen fire, like smoke and burnt fish and sweat. Any second, someone’s going to realize they disappeared and come barging through the ambulance doors and into this, into the tableau that is Buck leaning on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. Buck moves with it.

He was scared to see Buck again. He can admit that now, with Buck in front of him, the way he couldn’t when he was still in El Paso.

There’s a conversation they’ve been waiting to have. They started it a month ago, on the phone, Buck in his loft and Eddie in the kitchen of his rented house in El Paso. By now, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s figured out where this conversation is going to end. He knows he’s not going to find out here, in the back of an ambulance in Pasadena.

They decided, by mutual agreement, that they wouldn’t touch it until after the shift. They kept their word. Instead, Buck’s been doing…this. Messing with Eddie. Sticking close to him. Touching him, under the barest pretense of medical necessity.

It—this, them—has been an idea in Eddie’s head for so long that he started to lose track of what it was, exactly, that he was waiting for. It doesn’t feel real, that Buck could say something on the phone and a month later Eddie could be in Los Angeles again, cashing checks they wrote when they were eight hundred miles apart.

“I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” Buck said, low, into a phone speaker in Los Angeles. Into Eddie’s ear, in an empty room in El Paso. “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s head resting on Eddie’s chest is real.

It’s right here. It’s the easiest thing in the world, for Eddie to put his hand on the back of Buck’s neck, where the soft ends of his hair curl. For him to breathe in, slow, and feel the weight of Buck leaning on him.

“Yeah,” Buck says finally. His voice is quiet in the back of his throat. Eddie can feel it in his chest. “Found it.”

[awrkive]

tlp jk is def the type to absolutely sob when he sees oc walk down the aisle/when he’s trying to propose to her and it maybe just me but I feel like after that one year anniversary he’s like I’m wifing this girl DOWNN cause I feel like he lich has the ring and everyth ready to go he’s waiting he’s prepped 😭

here it is!!! #thee proposal drabble this is literally the cutest thing ever i wish love was real 😖🥹 hope u enj!!!!!!!!!!

summary: in which jungkook proposes and it doesn't start off well

w/c: 3.7k

warning/s: tlp couple is extremely in love that is a warning. they're also cry babies. listen to something by the beatles for the major feels 😔

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, matching your pace. “Are we really fighting right now?” 

“No.” Is your stern response, continuing your quick steps without even bothering to look back at him. 

“I guess we are fighting right now.” Jungkook mumbles to himself, taking two big strides so he can finally catch up with you. 

You don’t pay him any attention when he slides his arm around your waist while the other holds the bag of large popcorn you bought a while ago, leaning down to kiss the side of your head. Jungkook doesn’t even care about the people passing by around the cinema; they have lives to care about on their own – he can kiss his girlfriend wherever and whenever he wants. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers in your hair, enough for only you to hear. 

There’s a crease on your forehead that hasn’t ceased ever since you left the restaurant you had your dinner at. But after a few beats, you let out a sigh. 

“I just really wanted to see the movie in IMAX.” you lament, and Jungkook feels bad. He really does. 

“I know, baby, I really am sorry,” he apologizes once again. “We can see it tomorro—” but he realizes you both have a full-time shift, so he opts for, “–next week?” 

“Jungkook, the screening ends in the next two days.” you say, tone bordering on annoyed now. You reel it back in, gently saying, “I just– I told you to hurry up earlier, but you kept on changing your hair even though– you know what, forget about it. Which cinema were we in, again?” 

Jungkook’s nerves begin to kick in, because you look like you’re genuinely upset now. He can tell it by the tone of your voice, the disappointment and the simmering irritation of having to deal with the situation. You don’t get angry often – no scratch that, you don’t get angry at all. However, it does come in withdrawal-like gestures and behavior – like now. 

And again, Jungkook really does feel bad for having to do what he did earlier. You weren’t able to purchase tickets online so you had to make do with buying on the actual booth – and because Jungkook took way too long in the comfort room of the restaurant fixing his hair, you arrived at the cinema way too late and the tickets for the last IMAX screening of the night ran out. It left you with no choice but to go with the regular one instead, and needless to say, you’re not at all that happy about that. 

Well, shit. Jungkook thinks. This date is not going well at all. The waitress at the restaurant you ate at a while ago openly flirted with him on your table and he was too stunned to do something that you had to tell her off by yourself. That had obviously taken a hit on your mood, and the cinema thing just kind of maybe amplified it and Jungkook thinks he’s beginning to get fucked.

“I’ll make up it up to you, baby–” 

“The tickets, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook purses his lips into a thin line and gives them to you.

You walk alongside each other quietly, but Jungkook doesn’t let go of your waist while you head towards the dark and quiet hallway, leading to the seats. You don’t pry his hand off so maybe – maybe – that’s a good thing. 

But god, this night isn’t going well like he wanted it to be. Suddenly, he’s nervous again. More nervous that he was in the shower awhile ago when you were still prepping for the date back at home. He’s anxious about fucking the whole thing up, and sure, he could trust his track record of never fucking up when it comes to doing big things in his life, but this is different. This will be different. And he’s just so fucking scared that he checks on his watch again. 

8:22pm. 

Eight minutes before the movie starts in your cinema. And eight minutes more before the–

“Jungkook,” You call him, and he’s just in the middle of pushing the seat down for you when you do so. He looks at you. Confused, you ask, “Do you have somewhere to go?” 

“Huh?”

“You keep on looking at your watch. You have been since we were at the restaurant.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he’s thankful there’s barely any lights in the hall.

“I– no. No.” He shakes his head, placing down the bag of popcorn in the middle and takes your hand instead, interlocking your fingers. “I’m sorry, did I keep doing that?” He asks consciously.

He’s really fucking this up, and you’re noticing it. 

“Yes, it’s bothering me a little,” You shuffle in your seat a little, facing Jungkook. Softly, you ask, “Do you wanna go home? We can ditch the movie. I’m sorry for being a dickhead the whole night. It’s not an excuse but I really wanted to watch this movie in IMAX… but it’s fine. I’m not mad at you. I’m just in a… mood. And I know I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry. I’m being so unappreciative over here – I know you were supposed to work on your research–”

“Hey,” Jungkook stops you before you can even finish that. “No, baby. This is our date. I don’t wanna go home yet and I’m genuinely really sorry for missing the IMAX screening.” He’d add he didn’t mean to take long in the comfort room earlier… but that would be a lie. He intended to do that so you can both arrive here on time like planned. 

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Still… I’m sorry for being a little bitch.” 

“Not true. You’re an angel.” Jungkook says and brings your interlocked hands up to kiss your knuckles. “Love you.” 

You frown. “Love you too.” 

That earns you a hearty chuckle from him. “I love you more.” 

“Not that again.” You sigh, turning sideways to look ahead on the screen but not breaking away from his hold. 

Jungkook contains his smile as his gaze falls to the big screen as well, nerves crumbling down a little at the exchange. You’re the only person who can make him nervous but the only one who can take it away at the same time. 

“Huh,” you utter suddenly in the middle of some trailer playing. “It’s so weird there’s only a few people here.”

At that, Jungkook’s heart rate picks up a bit. “Y-yeah? Well, it’s late at night.” 

“Fair.” 

“And this movie’s not really new, right? Just an anniversary screening thing.” Jungkook continues to add, as if determined to justify your claim. 

You nod. “I guess you’re right.” 

“Yep.” 

His phone lights up and you’re busy sipping on your drink so Jungkook takes that as an opportunity to check the messages he received.

tae [8:28pm]: starting in 2

tae [8:28pm]: good luck buddy

Jungkook swipes his tongue over his lips – a nervous habit – quickly turning it off and pocketing the device. He places his arm on the arm rest and taps his fingers on the plastic surface anxiously. 

It feels like there’s a ticking clock above his head when the trailer finally ends, because he knows the thing should start rolling. 

And Jungkook swears he’s prepared for this for so many weeks. Months for the matter. It’s now May and the ring has been bought since February. What was once tucked away from the depths of his closet is now snugged in the pockets of his trouser, deep enough that you couldn’t pinpoint the bulging outline of the box.

Jungkook originally planned for you both to be out of the country when he does it. But things got really hectic at the hospital and while he personally could’ve still taken a leave, you couldn’t. Jungkook brought up the idea of vacationing a little, “Just for a week,”, he said, but then you sadly told him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to and he understood that greatly. He’s in the same line of work, after all. 

So, with what seemed to be the nth deliberation with Doyeon, Taehyung, and Nayeon, he ultimately decided on this set-up. You know; trick you into going to the mall with him so you can pass by the cinema and he successfully executes the proposal seamlessly. But obviously, it didn’t go as smoothly as that.

After your dinner, you impulsively decided that you wanted to watch a movie in IMAX, but it starts at exactly as Jungkook’s proposal, and so he had to compromise a little bit; the admittedly poor (but effective) solution coming in the form of intentionally staying a little longer in the comfort room of the restaurant just so you two would be lat. 

And Jungkook swears it’s for a good reason! Because everything’s prepped and ready to roll and he can’t have himself waste another perfect opportunity. He remembers almost popping the question three months ago, two months ago, month ago, few weeks ago and heck, even last night – but he’d always get cold feet and think the time wasn’t right. 

Right now, though, is different. 

And he wants it so badly to be different.

Good thing you settled things quickly. Now that his being late is past you, he can be a little more confident in what he’s about to do. 

The next trailer shows up and Jungkook sits upright, knowing what’s coming. He has it memorized, down to each frame. He was the one who edited it, after all, a product of his humble multimedia skills, that is. Jungkook could’ve gone to a professional but he really wanted to do it himself, scared they wouldn’t be able to tell you what he wanted to. And so he did. The gang also told him that it would be better if he did it himself.

And now he’s showing it to you – you, who’s completely clueless beside him. 

It starts as a bit of a misdirect. There’s an intro from a famous movie studio, and a scene from a real movie – and so of course you don’t suspect anything, as Jungkook could say from his peripheral view.

Suddenly, the screen goes black. It causes a pregnant pause, stretched to exactly five seconds (again, Jungkook edited that), and then, a familiar clip suddenly plays. 

It’s a video of you taken from Jungkook’s camcorder back in med school. First year, around the second semester. You were at Moon’s Printing Shop and you were looking down at your notes when Jungkook, behind the camera, called your name. 

You looked up, hair messy from an all-nighter study but Jungkook’s certain the Jungkook behind the scene was still thinking you were the prettiest girl he’s ever seen just like he’s thinking now. 

“Who would you wanna be if you were given the chance to be somebody else in your next life?” 

You grimace. “Hopefully, still me.” 

“So boring,” Jungkook exaggerated, his laughter reverberating in the hall of the theater. “Be serious.” 

You looked flustered in the video. “I’m serious. I don’t wanna be somebody else.” 

In his seat, Jungkook feels the real you sitting beside him tugging at your enclosed hands together, so he looks at you. 

“Jungkook, what is this?” You say, evidently unaware of what’s currently happening, your brows furrowed in that cute confusion. 

“Just something I’ve been working on for the past three months.” he smiles, bringing your hands together to his lips again. He just couldn’t stop kissing and touching you even if he tries.

You stare at him with your mouth agape, but you don’t say anything else, your gaze falling back to the screen once again. 

“Okay, since you don’t wanna play this game I wanna be Darth Vader.” Jungkook said in the video. 

“What? The evil guy from Star Wars?” You frowned. “That’s not… hmm… okay. I guess I wanna be… Spongebob, then.” 

“Oh. Wow. Interesting. Alright, Darth Vader’s out. I wanna be Patrick instead.” 

“I like that. So we’ll still be bestfriends, right?” 

“Yeah. And I still get to stress you out even in the next life.” 

That made you laugh, the warm burst of laughter filling the hall which makes Jungkook’s lips curl up as he watches the screen. He can never get tired of it; your smile, your laugh, your face as it lights up. There’s something so incredibly angelic about you he sometimes thinks you’re not human at all. Or maybe just part-human… nonetheless, he feels grateful. For literally everything. 

Something in the way she moves…

The video transitions to another reel of you taken by Jungkook while The Beatles’ Something plays in the background. 

"Oh my god..." Jungkook hears you gasp beside him, but he doesn't allow himself to break just yet. Instead, he tightens his grip on your hand, feeling your response as you hold on just as firmly.

The screen continues to show candid moments of you from med school. All recorded and taken by Jungkook; the trips you took during that time, that rave party you went to where you got extremely drunk – and when that showed up, you giggled beside him and said, “I told you to delete that.”, which he just laughed at. 

Later on, the clips got more recent, you in your lilac dress and Jungkook’s white tux… it was a video of you dancing in Nayeon’s wedding. 

“W-wha–… I didn’t – who took that?” You whisper, sounding in awe. 

“Nayeon was apparently recording from the stage at that time.” Jungkook says, looking at you and smiling when he sees that you have your eyes glued to the screen. 

“This is so…” you trail off, but you don’t really say anything in continuation. 

Recent videos of you play, capturing moments from the two years you’ve been together. There’s that clip in Vienna, a few in Florence, Paris, Melbourne... It’s surreal to think that he captured those memories, never imagining they’d be used for something like this. 

Something in the way she knows

And all I have to do is think of her

Something in the things she shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how

The song fades to an end and so did the compilation of your videos. The screen shows Jungkook this time instead. He leaned towards the camera, checked the optics, and then smiled a little. From the background, you know it was taken by the wall of his room, near the window because you can see the Sanrio plushie you put on the table beside there. It’s a little out of frame but you can still recognize it. 

Then, he spoke. 

“Uhm, hi,” He started, and you hold your breath, feeling like you’re on the edge of your seat but not in that anxious way. “I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I’m thinking of doing this video… for my proposal – and ah, my proposal – wait, I really should’ve written a script for this but I wanted this to be natural as much as possible and I’m going off-track so we’ll move on to what I really wanna say,” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, and you hear Jungkook joining in with you. 

“__, you’re the love of my life. You’re my lover, but you’re my best friend most of all. I look back on the times we’ve spent together – a decade. There was no time in those years that I didn’t thank my lucky stars for knowing and meeting you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I really hope you know how much I love you because no matter how hard I try to put it into action and words, no amount of it would tell you how I truly feel.” A pause. Then he took out something from his pocket. Raising his hand, a red velvet box appeared in the frame. He was about to open it when suddenly, your voice is heard behind the camera. 

“Jungkook?” 

Jungkook quickly pocketed the box, and the camera shook a little, the angle now distorted, probably due to his panic upon hearing your voice. 

“Yes, baby?” The audio played. 

“You were doing something?” 

“Nah. Just trying out my new camera.” Jungkook said. 

“Oh. Lemme see.” 

The camera got picked up, and Jungkook switched the camera to you.

In your seat, you nibble on your bottom lip upon seeing your own face this time, a poor attempt to stop your jaw from breaking apart because you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling watching the whole thing. 

“Pretty girl.” You hear Jungkook say behind the recorder. His hand came up to caress your face in the video, thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I love you.” 

You looked confused at first but then you told him, anyway, “I love you too.” 

You leaned down, and the video gets switched out to another one of Jungkook on a different day. 

“Sorry the video got interrupted by my gorgeous girlfriend.”

You both laugh at that, and as if on cue, your eyes meet – silently acknowledging that you’re thinking the same thing. In that shared glance, it's clear you both understand how things escalated in that moment, that night – how that kiss turned into something more.

“I just wanted to say that, uh, I love her. No, you, I’m talking to you–” He sighed in the clip, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway. I love you. I love you so much, baby. More than anything else in the world. I feel like I don’t say it enough although Taehyung teases me about convulsing if I can’t say it to you for no longer than five minutes – he’s probably right but that’s not the point. What I wanna say is – again – is that, I love you, __. And I want to spend the rest of my lifetime with you. I wanna grow old with you. Spend every day and every night with you. I want us to wake up together every morning, make our breakfast together, go to work together, do laundry together, our taxes – man, I don’t know. Anything. I just want to do anything and everything with you. Maybe adopt a dog in the near future, if you want to, that is. You’re probably gonna be watching this in the theater by this moment – god I hope I don’t fuck the whole thing up, the gang is gonna be so pissed – but I’ll drop the question for you and I know we already talked about it many times before and two months ago you said you were ready if I was also ready. I couldn’t tell you I’ve been ready since the first week we started dating. But I hope… what you felt two months ago is still what you feel right now…” 

Then, the big screen fades to black, and suddenly, a few lights in the hall flicker on, illuminating Jungkook—now on his knees. In his hand is a red velvet box, now open, revealing a stunning ring that’s so beautiful it leaves your jaw slack.

He clears his throat. “__, you’re my best friend. Have been and always will be. You’re my home, my partner. I will love you for as long as you let me and–” Jungkook doesn’t mean it but there’s suddenly a lump in his throat that forms along the way and he has to choke it back, making his voice crack a little bit as he looks into your eyes. “– and I really want to live all my remaining years with you and be yours forever.” He bites his lip, looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so much. Then, the question comes, “Can I be your husband?” 

“Jungkook…” You look down at him, your mouth opening and closing, lost for words. You’ve passed the point of holding back tears, and when your eyes meet his—so full of sincerity and revere—you completely break. “Y-yes. Yes! One hundred percent yes,” you manage to say through your sobs, nodding fervently as your vision blurs from the tears streaming down your face.

As soon as you say that, all the lights in the room turn on and there’s a holler from the direction of the projection room that you can’t help but look at. 

“Congrats!” 

You gasp as you see Doyeon and Nayeon. They’re both waving at you with huge grins on their faces. Genuinely surprised and confused at the same time, you start to look around, and suddenly, you realize that everybody is literally… your family. Taehyung, your dad, your mom, your sister and Seokjin all occupy the front rows, and in front of them are Jungkook’s own family as well. From afar, you see Jungkook’s father coming up to give your dad a hug which he reciprocates as they laugh together. 

Your eyes are drawn back to Jungkook. 

“Jungkook… they’re all here,” you say, struggling to hold back the onslaught of tears. They won’t stop.

And at this point, Jungkook can’t help it. Not anymore. He sees you crying and he can’t help but do it as well. He sniffs, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm.

“Yes, baby. Everybody is here.”

“Baby, why are you crying?” You ask him despite yourself.

Jungkook chuckles in between his tears, swiping a hand on his eyes. “I’m just so happy. You make me so happy. Thank you. Thank you for saying yes.”

That makes you cry even more, earning another laugh from Jungkook but it’s filled with endearment. Slowly, he takes your hand and you watch teary-eyed as he finally inserts the ring around your ring finger. 

The diamond-encrusted band, with a larger diamond glimmering in the center, fits perfectly around your finger. You stare at it in awe, admiring how gorgeous it looks—trying to recall a time when Jungkook measured your finger to make it fit so flawlessly. But you can't remember, and you don't mind at all, instead looking up at him as he stands to his feet.

"I love you, Jungkook. I really do," you say with all the sincerity in your heart, hoping he knows as much.

"I can't wait to marry you," he replies, his voice full of emotion before he pulls you into his arms and leans down to kiss you gently on the lips. It’s soft and it’s sweet just like the love he’s given you all these years.

A cheer erupts around you, and normally, you'd feel shy about kissing in front of your family. But this time, you don’t feel embarrassed at all.

It’s just you and Jungkook. Bound for a lifetime of unadulterated love.

[thegoogoomuckkk]

Will you be doing more the Club series? I miss it so much, I can’t wait for more it’s so hot.

club -> businessman -> nanami isn't exactly what you expected out of your third client. . .but that doesn't mean you're complaining

the time for being nervous had long since passed. any reservations you had about sleeping with the world’s strongest sorcerers had been shoved down deep inside; there wasn’t any time for that. between dancing at the club as usual & your nights spent with scheduled clients, there was hardly any time to spend with your thoughts, & maybe that was a good thing. there was time, however, to tear shiu a new asshole. 

“listen, they’ve already paid, doll. ain’t anything I can do about it now. besides, you’re always telling me I don’t pay you enough. I’m paying you plenty, now, aren’t I?”

“oh please, your cheap ass still isn’t paying me enough. they’re paying me,” you murmur, & he’s rolls his eyes. 

“you’re gettin’ paid, yeah? that’s all that matters. now was there something you needed, or do you just like to waste my time?”

“both,” you sneer, leaning over his desk, palms flat against the cheap mahogany. cheap, that was a good word to describe him. “who’s my sunday appointment?” 

his smile makes you violent. “can’t tell you that. just that he’s paid a shit ton for your appointment.”

“so when he murders me, you gonna sprinkle that cash over my grave?”

“he’s not gonna murder you, drama queen. I checked him out, he’s clean as can be.”

you left his office with more questions than answers. shiu knew who it was, but he wouldn’t tell you. 4 whole hours to a random stranger. you couldn’t dwell on it too long, you had a schedule to keep, & apparently so did your client. 10:15pm sharp.

this was gonna be easy-peasy, you thought, pulling the door open to the club. tonight worried you the least out of any of your appointments. a blowjob was the most mundane thing a man could’ve asked you for. 

you were sitting on the edge of the bed, cool & smooth, when the door swung open at 10:14pm. holy motherfucking shit. kento nanami was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen. you were ready for him to grab you by the scalp & force his cock down your throat. in fact, you weren’t just ready for it, you wanted it. giving this fine piece a blowjob was going to be your pleasure. 

“hello.”

you bit back a laugh. “hi.” you surveyed him further, attempting to look past the face & muscles—as hard as it was—suit & tie, silver rolex, thinly-framed glasses. everything about him was arousing, you were having a hard time containing yourself. 

“so, it said ‘oral sex’ on your file,” you say matter-of-factly. there was no easy way to segue into these kinds of situations, but nanami seemed like a matter-of-fact kind of guy. & you liked that. 

"that's correct," nanami replied, his voice deep & smooth. he loosened his tie slightly as he approached you, his gaze intense behind those thin frames. "but I'd like to clarify something first."

“oh?” 

he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, & god, even that was hot. "I know that I…paid for your…services,” he clears his throat. & you can see it in his eyes, though they’re averted from yours. he’s embarrassed. good. “but I’m not interested in doing anything that you’re not explicitly comfortable with. so if, at any point, you’re not—comfortable, that is—then we’ll stop. is that clear?” 

you nod, thoughts too jumbled to say anything. but he doesn’t like that. maybe he doesn’t argue, but you can tell, he wants your verbal consent. “yes, nanami. it’s clear,” you try to tease, to be flirty, to be anything but disturbed by how hot this guy was. the pictures don’t do him justice. 

“good.” 

he eyes you like a predator as you stand up from your seated position & take a couple steps toward him. you subtly gesture for him to sit, but he gives you a confused look. “wouldn’t you rather lie down?” 

you snort. “lie down to suck your dick?” you give him the same confused, questioning gaze. "I guess if that’s how you want it.” 

a soft smile touches his lips. “pardon me, but I think you read my request wrong,” he says. “or at least, misinterpreted what I meant. I don’t play on letting you…” he doesn’t even think he can say it, but finally he spits out: “suck my dick,” in a hushed, humiliated tone. “by oral sex, I meant, giving.” 

“oh.” 

“yes, oh.” 

you retreat back to where you were sitting, the backs of your knees bumping against the bed. yes, per your request, shiu had finally moved you to a room with a bed. he follows your movements, both with his eyes & body. 

you were. . .what was this feeling? nervous? excited? no, confused. this man was paying to eat you out. it would be physically impossible for him to be more attractive. but. . .why? why couldn’t he get a girlfriend to do this with? you can’t imagine what straight woman wouldn’t want that.

“may I kiss you?” he accepts your nod this time, & leans down to press his lips against yours. he was so big & tall. he commanded your space, forced his way into it until all you could comprehend was the presence of him. his lips on yours, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip, his hands finding their grip on your waist. you let him push you both back, until you're flush with the bed, head softly rested on the pillows, his knee on the cheap comforter in between your thighs. 

your breath catches in your throat as nanami hovers over you, his eyes dark with desire. he pulls back slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. "Is this alright?" he asks, his voice low & husky.

you nod eagerly, then remember his preference for verbal consent. "yes," you breathe. "more than alright."

a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he leans in again, this time trailing kisses along your neck. his hands move to push up your shirt, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. you arch into him, desperate for more contact.

nanami takes his time, methodically undressing you between kisses & caresses. his touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he explores every inch of newly exposed skin. his gaze roams over your body, appreciation evident in his eyes. "beautiful," he murmurs, & a small wire snaps in your stomach. this was not a regular session; you didn’t have this kind of sex with…anyone, really, but especially not club patrons. in fact, you can’t remember a time in which a customer went down on you, ever. & more concerning was: you wanted him to, despite how…personal it was. 

 you squirm beneath him, desperate for more. "patience," he murmurs against your collarbone, & you’re sure the deep bass of his voice vibrates straight to your cunt. he trails his lips down your neck, between your breasts, & he seems fixated there for a while, mouth wrapped around the soft skin, sucking the nipple, his other palming your breast, & you let out a breathless whine. he slides his fingers down to your underwear, pressing the pads of them firmly against the soft fabric covering your clit. he rubs soft & slow, & you’re so deeply concerned by how good it feels. needless to say, this is not what you were expecting. finally, he allows himself to bring his lips down to your panties, licking the already wet spot covering the front of them. he hooks his fingers through the material around your hips, slowly pulling them down. 

your breath catches as the cool air hits your exposed skin. he lets out a low groan at the sight of you, vulnerable & wanting. his warm breath ghosts over your inner thighs as he moves closer, planting soft kisses along sensitive skin. you shiver in anticipation, hands fisting in the sheets.

he teases you mercilessly, lips & tongue exploring everywhere but where you need him most. just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally, finally drags his tongue along your slick folds. you cry out, hips bucking involuntarily. he holds you steady with strong hands on your thighs as he works you over with his mouth, alternating between broad strokes & focused attention on your clit. his strong hands grip your thighs, holding you open for him. the pleasure builds steadily as he works you with his tongue, fucking it in & out of you, nose bumping against your clit. & when he decides that’s just not quite enough, he presses one finger softly in & out of your dripping hole. never pushing it all the way in ‘cause he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

your body tenses as the sensation builds to an almost unbearable intensity. with a muffled cry, you tumble over the edge into blissful release. waves of pleasure crash over you as your muscles clench rhythmically around his fingers. he doesn't let up, working you through each aftershock until you're gasping & oversensitive.

only then does he slowly withdraw his fingers & place a gentle kiss on your inner thigh. you lie there panting, feeling boneless & sated.

but he’s not done, you realize, hiking your thighs over his shoulders, burying his face into your cunt again. you’ve barely had time to recover & he’s starting his ministrations again, this time harder & faster, & you writhe in his grip, mewling & whimpering about it’s “t-too much, can’t-can’t take it.” 

your brain goes soft & fuzzy when he says, “you can take it, m’gonna give it to you.” you’re sure no one has ever taken more pleasure out of giving oral sex than nanami is right now. 

his tongue swirls relentlessly, finding every sensitive spot as if he's memorized your body. you arch your back, fingers tangling in his hair as waves of sensation crash over you. it's overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity, but you can't bring yourself to push him away.

"that's it," he murmurs against your flesh, the vibrations making you shudder. 

you're trembling, teetering on the edge of overstimulation. but nanami is relentless, his strong hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread open for him. you're making sounds you've never heard yourself make before—desperate, needy whimpers punctuated by breathless gasps.

just when you think you can't take anymore, he sucks hard on your clit & you shatter. your second orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, & you’re seeing spots, tugging painfully on his hair, nails raking against his spiky undercut, & he’s moaning into your cunt. if you were anywhere near coherency right now, you’d notice him pathetically humping against the mattress, mindlessly, too focused on your pretty pussy to actually get off. 

“nanami,” you whine. he looks up at you with hooded eyes, covered by his lashes. 

“did you want to stop?” 

"I-i–no, I just—you don’t have to do that anymore, not if you don’t want to.” it’s hard to say anything, to think after having his mouth on you, his tongue in you. but you do your best, try to sit up on your elbows .”we can do s-someth—”

"I'd like to continue doing this.” it’s so direct, so stern, but pleading also. "If you’re alright with that.” 

you can’t help but nod along, brain soft, thoughts gone. "y-yes," you manage to stammer out, your voice barely above a whisper. "please."

nanami's eyes flash with something intense, a mix of desire & determination. without another word, he lowers his head again, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. you shiver in anticipation, your body already yearning for his touch.

his tongue resumes its exploration, slow & deliberate at first, then growing more insistent. you fall back onto the bed, unable to support yourself any longer. your fingers tangle in his hair, not guiding, just needing something to hold onto as waves of pleasure wash over you. 

you can’t fathom what this could possibly be doing for him, but it’s obvious that he’s enjoying this in some perverse way; not that you were complaining. you lost track of how many times you came on his tongue, but a soft alarm went off in your soft, pliant head after a while. it had been a lot longer than an hour & a half. but with how good he made you feel, you didn’t think charging him was fair. 

regardless of how you felt, the next day, there was far more money than shiu had charged him & a bouquet of roses on your makeup table. all the girls ooh’ed & ahh’ed at it when you walked in. everyone wanted to see, but you kept the little note to yourself. it was thick cardstock paper that somehow smelt like his cologne. 

"I know roses are cliche, but I didn’t know what you liked. after last night, I'd love to know what else you like.”

crazy that you sent this, anon, because I literally woke up this morning wondering why I never finished this series?? I'm on it 🫡 did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[deantfwinchester]

Love Me Right

Part 1: Henrietta’s

Pairing: ConstructionCEO!Joel x Waitress!Reader

She's eventually gonna be a teacher again bc let's be real, i'm a one-trick pony.

This is a Millionaire Joel AU x Most Eligible Bachelor Trope

Summary: Joel Miller, CEO and Co-Founder of Miller Construction, hasn't been dealing with an Empty Nest very well. His family and friends have tried their best to cheer him up since Sarah left for college in the fall, but the storm cloud above his head remains. On top of that (or perhaps because of it), he has just been named one of Austin's Most Eligible Bachelors.

What will that mean for the new-in-town waitress he meets in his favorite diner? As far as she knows, he's just an average contractor.

Warnings: age gap (reader late 20s, Joel late 40s); family-centered trauma and conflict; lethal levels of fluff otw

A/N: Bear with me for this one y'all. My imagination is ambitious and my brain is obstinate. Title inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s Short ‘n Sweet - bc i can’t stop fckn listening to Juno 🫣

Word Count: 4.6k

_______________________________________________

“Tommy, there ain’t a chance in hell that’s gonna happen. Why on earth did you bring this to me?”

“Well they talked to Joanna at the front desk first. She said wasn’t going to bring it up to you, but I couldn’t just let it slide,” Tommy raises his eyebrows at Joel, shooting him a mischievous look. “Because one - I wasn’t gonna pass up the chance to see this look on your face, and two - would a little publicity be so bad?”

“Who in their right mind is gonna choose a fuckin contractor from the goddamn ‘society pages’?” Joel bristles at his brother’s amusement with an unwavering scowl.

Tommy stares right back, but the playful nature of his expression is unmarred. “Most men won’t Joel - but their wives will.” Tommy’s salacious grin is damn near wider than Joel’s ever seen. Christ, he’s loving this.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Joel says plainly, rolling his eyes.

“Come on brother, think about it - plenty of busy men in this city with bored housewives in need of a project. He tosses her a few thousand to redo the dining room - well who’s gonna do the job? She hasn’t got a clue where to begin and then BOOM! She sees the list of Austin’s Most Eligible Bachelors in the paper - where she finds a photo of the distinguished CEO and senior founder of Miller Construction—”

“Senior, seriously?,” Joel deadpans at him. Tommy ignores him, continuing to wax poetic.

“And can’t help but wonder if the rest of his staff is as dashing as he appears to be,”

“Flattery’s cheap Tommy.”

“Of course then she meets with me and the deal is sealed.” Tommy smiles smugly now that his story is complete.

“Boy can you paint a picture,” responds Joel, rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics. “So you wanna parade me around like a two-bit hooker, huh?

“Whaddya say — can I give ‘em a call?”

“If you’re so hell-bent on ‘marketing’ why don’t you do it?” Joel says flippantly.

“Well I’m not a bachelor anymore, am I?,” he grins brightly at him. This time, it’s sincere.

“Don’t break your arm pattin' yourself on the back, Tommy. Maria mighta said yes, but there ain’t a ring on your finger yet. She’s still got a few months to wise up,” Joel challenges, his tone playful.

Tommy glares at him, but then gives a sobered nod. “You’re right about that. I know I’m a lucky fucker, and I’m not interested in testing that luck - even for a charity auction. Sorry to the dogs, or the food bank or — is it old people?”

“Hell bent on it, and don’t even know what it’s for? Christ - it’s a Make-A-Wish thing Tommy, damn,” Joel replies, looking bewildered at his brother’s callous and cavalier response.

“And isn’t your attention and concern for the bigger picture just what they need in volunteers?” Tommy retorts, expression still smug but eyes hopeful. “What, ‘s it gonna kill you to go out for once? It’ll be a formality at worst and maybe even a good time if you loosen up a bit.”

“I can think of a number of other ‘worsts’ than a formality,” Joel muses

“You’re gentleman enough to handle it just fine,” Tommy continues.

It has been quite a while since Joel’s been out of his house for much other than work or routine, and even longer since he’s been out with anyone other than Tommy, Maria, and the guys from work here and there. He’ll admit, he hasn’t been dealing with an empty nest very well. He’s done a pretty terrible job of keeping busy since he dropped Sarah off at school back in the fall. She’d gotten in exactly where she’d hoped, and made friends fast - for this he was over the moon - but he misses her like crazy. He’s been swimming back and forth in swelling pride and stabbing grief since September, ecstatic and aching all at once. He knew Tommy’s intentions were relatively pure, business interest aside. He knows they’ve been worried about him for a couple of months now - they haven’t exactly been subtle — they’d started having him over for dinner damn near once a week.

This newfound hobby of Tommy’s, cooking like a grown-up, had become the ruse en vogue for getting Joel out of his house. As Maria’s caseload grew at the law firm, Tommy wanted to make sure she had a real meal to eat when she finally got home — so he started cooking. Joel had to admit it was real sweet, watching his brother dive headfirst into learning a new skill just to take care of his bride-to-be. He claimed it only made sense with his far more flexible schedule, but Joel knew it made Tommy proud to be able to do this for her, and the very fact he wanted to made Joel proud as well.

Once Sarah left for school, however, Tommy quickly discovered his brother’s less-than-satisfactory habits of microwave dinners or forgetting to eat in general. He was a fair chef in his own right once upon a time, but without his little girl there to feed, bothering to make a balanced meal fell by the wayside. Joanna, a kindly woman in her seventies, had been one of the first to notice the change in Joel’s demeanor and the drawn nature of his features. Not much younger than the boys’ mother would be today, Joanna worked at the front desk of Miller Construction, greeting clients with a maternal warmth that, Tommy had to admit, was in part strategic. Disarm a client while they wait with a smile and you’d be able to pry open their hearts and their pockets.

Joanna was not unaware of the role she played in this game, though she did not approve. She’d informed Tommy of her concern for Joel, and the regular dinner invitations followed suit. This, accompanied with Joanna’s tugging Joel along to a nearby diner for lunch a couple of times a week in November had practically pulled Joel through the fall slump and into the new year. The holiday visits home from Sarah had helped a great deal, as well.

Joel wasn’t blind to his friends and family’s kahoots to help him through this patch. Though he sometimes grudgingly obliged to Joanna’s pestering him out the door because she hadn’t “seen you eat a bite all day. Four cups of black coffee don’t count, and you know it. Up!,” or Tommy’s employing Maria to send a text herself inviting him to dinner after he’d tried and simply received the finger, he was grateful for their efforts and care. Sarah was too, but he didn’t need to know that. Those lunchtime diner visits soon turned into breakfasts — a preemptive measure on Joanna’s part to add some time out in public to Joel’s routine of home — office — work site — home. Eventually she’d pavolv-ed him into it, and Joel was at the diner for coffee, breakfast, and one of the only physical newspapers left in existence every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at first following behind Joanna and eventually on his own.

Joanna had been with the Miller brothers since the business was far smaller, just a few years after its inception, when they started needing a receptionist/secretary/assistant, just someone who knew how to manage their slowly growing demand. She’d been a friend of their mother’s and had taken up some of the slack when she’d passed, grieving alongside her friend’s sons and looking after them in her wake. She’d been one of the only reasons Joel and Tommy had been able to build the tiny Miller Bros. into its current position as Miller Construction, multi-million-dollar contracting firm, and the largest in the Austin Metro area. Joel’s practical thinking and creativity combined with Tommy’s ambition and idealistic hopes of grandeur got them into successful meetings with investors that Joanna quietly set up via her husband’s business contacts. Their vision reminded her so much of their mother’s optimism she couldn’t help herself. She’d keep an eye on Sarah when Joel needed and ensured they were taken care of in the moments they would have needed their mother around.

As the boys’ surrogate mother figure and Sarah’s Aunt Jo, it came as no surprise that amid Joel’s season of empty-nested loneliness Joanna had begun encouraging him to “get back out there” and claimed that she “won’t be around forever” and “would like to see him settled before I go.” Classic maternal guilt-tripping, and Joel told her each time that he hears 70 is the new 50. She told him to try that again in a few years when he hits the real 50.

Truth of the matter was, Joel had been alone for a long time. He’d seen people on and off while Sarah was growing up, but it was a rare occasion, and no fling had ever lasted more than a couple of months. With Sarah at home, it never mattered much to Joel — he had someone to care for who was the best company he’d ever had right in front of him. She’d needed him a little less as she’d grown up, but he always had a purpose.

Joel was a natural-born caretaker — between brotherhood and fatherhood, he took to it like a tadpole to water. With Sarah away at school and his little brother engaged, however, he couldn’t figure out where to put all that love, and so it crackled into grief like a blackening candle wick, blooming into a flower of ash that nestled in his chest. The cloud of soot hovered around him for a while as he went through the motions of his everyday. Tommy, Maria, and Joanna all wanted to see him find his way again, as did Sarah when she received honest reports from her family members after some prodding. He always put on his biggest smile for her, never wanting her to worry, but she could see something hurting in his eyes, just below the surface.

While it may have been blatantly out of his comfort zone, Tommy and Joanna jumped at the opportunity to convince Joel when the Most Eligible Bachelors’ Auction came knocking. He needed something to disrupt his routine, with the added bonus of his coming out into the social scene like a plaid-clad debutante with a few extra crow’s feet.

After rolling the last few months’ events around in his mind for a couple of minutes while Tommy answers a phone call, Joel is broken from his reverie. Tommy’s standing in front of him again, waving a hand back and forth.

“Hey ground control - you with me?,” he asks before Joel’s eyes focus on him once again. “Can I give em a call?,” and this time Joel notices the concern in Tommy’s eyes as his joking facade flickers with hope. It’s more than just publicity, and he owes it to them to give it a shot.

Joel releases a measured sigh, relenting. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but sure, fuck it. Call ‘em back,” he says rolling his eyes, resigning himself to whatever nonsense his participation will entail. He reminds himself it’s for charity, and returns to his computer, refocusing on his work as Tommy darts out of his office to return to his own, reporting his success to Joanna along the way.

_______________________________________________

You got lucky with this job at Henrietta’s, with its flexible hours and fairly livable wage, you had time to settle into your new place and get to know the city. You spend your off days wandering around, doing research on local schools and prepping your applications for summer school and the new year.

Never had you pictured yourself leaving students mid-year, and having to do it hurt like hell. You missed the kids you left behind every day, but when a friend caught wind of an acquaintance needing a subletter for a little studio within your price range, you didn’t have much of a choice. You needed to take up the lease starting in January, or you’d be starting over at square one. It had been a long time coming, this encroaching need to run and start over somewhere new. Staying in your hometown was no longer an option — work may have been a saving grace, but the other areas of your life were suffering. You knew healing couldn’t begin without separation. You needed to be far away from everything — it was the only way you could picture trying to feel whole again. Grad school had ended the previous year, so you fled.

With each mile you put between you and your family, you started to feel like your lungs could fully inflate once again. The oppressive air of scrutiny and memory that swam around you at home dropped off piece by piece with each passing mile marker. You’d put a few states between yourself and your parents once it was all said and done, and while it was scary, starting from scratch all over again, it was invigorating. You’d done it at eighteen when you left for college, you could damn well do it again with eight years’ more life experience under your belt.

You’d walked into the diner on your second day in the city. You had some money saved up from time living at home, but knew it would dwindle quickly with rent to pay and no salary coming in on the regular. You would need something to keep busy and pay for necessities until the end of the spring semester. When Diane, the manager caught sight of you, bright-eyed and looking like a deer in headlights, she welcomed you with a warmth you’d only read about in books. She interviewed you then and there and offered you a job on the spot, waiting tables on the breakfast and lunch shifts at least four days a week. She told you your “sweet smile and wide-eyed look will do wonders for you in tips, precious!” You think it’s probably just teacher face you can’t shake, and hope she’s right — maybe it could do you some favors until you get back in the classroom where you belong.

Diane’s rounded face was accentuated with wonderfully deep crow’s feet and smile lines that suggested a lifetime of sharing this warmth, and her dark hair streaked with gray around her hairline and temples rested atop her head in a frazzled bun. She made you comfortable out the gate, and had set you up with a uniform immediately. More aptly, she handed you a t-shirt and an apron to go over your leggings. You were thankful for the relaxed dress code, knowing plenty of other establishments required a much more specific ensemble. Once you’d changed she introduced you to your shift lead, Reggie, and the line-cook-on-duty, Tony, patting you comfortingly on the shoulder and insisting they welcome you, hoping to keep you around to solve their persistent staffing issue.

While Diane was quite a bit older than you, somewhere in her mid-fifties, Reggie and Tony were younger, floating between mid-thirties and early forties, if you had to guess. Reggie was a slim black man you’d put in his thirties, and he greeted you with a smile and an exclamation that he was more than ready to gossip ad nauseum with someone so much closer to his age. He’d been the one to fill you in on Diane’s immediate taking to you, letting you know with little ambiguity that you were just a few years younger than Diane’s daughter, who had moved out of the city about a year ago, and that you favored her to boot. Reggie had called this particular gossip session your orientation.

“Don’t get me wrong honey, Diane’s a sweetheart. But never have I seen her offer a position on the spot. I think having you here may do her some good,” he’d said, before turning to fill you in on Tony the line cook. “Yeah Tony’s hot, but he chain smokes like a chimney and doesn’t care at all when I ask him to keep his second hand smoke to himself on the days I have a performance!,” he shouted pointedly at Tony, who only looked up long enough to give Reggie the finger and wink at you. Tony was a muscular Italian guy in his forties with tattoos of a sort that didn’t quite match up with the gold chain and cross pendant hanging around his neck. When your eyes went wide at the wink, Reggie giggled a bit and leaned toward you. “Don’t worry, Tony’s a little sleazy but harmless. He’ll hit on anything in a skirt, but as soon as you tell him you aren’t interested he’ll back off and won’t bring it up again. He’s a good guy, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Over the course of your shift you discovered that Diane’s been at Henrietta’s for fifteen years, Reggie is a drag queen and lounge singer by the name of Wizz Tiria at a few different clubs around town, and Tony has a few other business ventures he mentions on and off (the details of which he keeps to himself), but never misses taking his Mom to church on Sundays. You share a good bit about yourself as well in exchange — what brought you to Austin, why now, and where you may go from here. It doesn’t take long for you to make yourself at home among this eclectic little bunch, and for the first time in a really, really long time, you’re content with the peaceful monotony of these early winter days.

_______________________________________________

It’s a brisk February morning when you walk into the diner for your shift. You’ve spent the last month working in the cozy little greasy spoon, so you’re still getting to know the regulars, but you’ve caught on pretty quick. You’ve been working the Tuesday, Thursday, and weekend shifts, but when Diane loses another server, you’re eager to pick up the slack — extra pocket change and keep your mind busy. The company’s pretty good too. Thus, you find yourself walking into the diner at 7 AM on a Wednesday morning with a hoodie over your t-shirt and a scarf to ward off more of the wind cutting into your cheeks. You head to the staff room to remove your hoodie and don your apron and emerge, finding the diner a bit colder than it had been up to this point. You’d kept a light jacket or a cardigan on you previously, but today’s need for something heavier led you to selecting a favorite hoodie to throw over your work t-shirt — which you didn’t quite think through until you came into the dining room and felt a chil run up your spine. Diane catches sight of you before you can still yourself.

“Sweetie, what on earth fo you think you’re doing?,” she asks like you’ve done something obviously egregious.

“Huh? What is it?,” you ask innocently, but you know the answer. She can probably see the goosebumps you feel rising on your arms.

“You need somethin’ on under that, you’re gonna freeze in here today!,” she chastises.

“Yeah, I brought my hoodie, but forgot I’d be taking it off. It’s not so bad in here, I’ll be alright,’ you tell her reassuringly.

“Absolutely not. Wait, hold on a second - REGGIE! We got any more o’ those long sleeve souvenir shirts in the case?!” she hollers after him.

“Hold awn!,” he hollers back, Southern twang taking center stage when he yells, just like the rest of them. After a few seconds he emerges with a few in hand. “Got a few left. Ugly as hell, probably why they’re still here. Watcha need ‘em for?”

“Sweetie, go on and change into that before the rush starts. Not the staff shirt, but the branding’ll be fine in case Jason drops by,” she says, rolling her eyes. She pats you on the shoulder, nudging you toward Reggie to take one of the shirts. They’re bright green with a gaudy design on them that makes you laugh when he hands it to you. Jason’s the owner of Henrietta’s, and so you’ve heard, the bane of Diane’s existence. You’ve only heard tale of this rotten Jason thus far, never quite laying eyes on the mythical beast. You really hope today in this goofy shirt isn’t the day you do.

You return to the dining room a few minutes later clad in the neon green monstrosity, tugging at it in a futile effort to make it look better. “Happy now, Diane?!,” you holler as you enter, only to find her standing directly in front of you at the hostess stand, face to face with a man you’d never seen in here before — who you almost run right into, not looking where you’re going. He’s tall and broad with dark brown curls laced with grey streaks, and gray patches in the short beard that frames his jaw. He catches you when you nearly bump right into him, and you look up to meet the deepest brown eyes you’ve ever encountered. Your cheeks go red when you realize what you’ve done.

“Whoa there,” he says, smiling down at you as you stutter out an apology. “It’s alright, no harm done,” he responds, voice gentle but deep. It’s true, he didn’t even budge when he caught you, and you’re fairly certain if you’d fallen, the outcome would’ve been the same.

“Sorry about that Joel. C’mon, your table’s ready,” she says, patting Joel’s arm and leading him forward, not before turning back to you and saying, “Certainly am. Now go grab some coffee for Table 7 for me, will ya sweetie?” with a smile. You’d just run almost smack into a customer, and she wasn’t upset with you or anything. You shouldn’t be surprised, that’s just Diane, but you’re used to much larger reactions to small mistakes. You just nodded and breathed a sigh of relief, but your eyes are drawn once again to the man she’s leading away. He’s looking back at you with a smile that sends a shiver down your spine, one you’re certain has nothing to do with the chill in the air this time. He’s wearing a plaid button-down and a utility jacket, with cheeks and a nose tinged pink from the cold. You tear your eyes away anxiously and head for the coffee pot.

You’ve got your hand around the decaf pot, pouring another cup for the regular at the bar counter, when your eyes find Table 7, your next destination. You see the man, Joel, Diane had called him, with his back to you, facing out the window, newspaper in hand. You steel yourself once again, switch coffee pots, and head for his table.

You approach from the side, hoping not to spook him as he’s engrossed in the paper he has in hand. Christ, when was the last time you saw a physical newspaper? It’s kinda cute, you think, seeing someone reading one on a cold morning with a cup of coffee. So picturesque. Especially someone as handsome as he is, and you find yourself staring at his broad shoulders and dark curls again before he looks up from his reading.

“Hey,” you start, a little shaky, “sorry again, about before. Don’t know what I was doing, not looking where I was going,” you smile a little, shaking your head at your mishap.

“Really, it’s fine. You seemed, uh, preoccupied,” he says, looking down at the offending design on the tshirt you’re wearing, before looking back up at you. “It’s certainly a change from the regular uniform, huh?” he says, smiling at you. The way his eyes crinkle as he does plants a warmth in your chest you aren’t expecting. It’s been so long since you felt it, it’s almost unfamiliar. Your cheeks warm as you smile back at him, hoping it comes off as embarrassment from your wardrobe rather than bashful attraction. You’re about to tell him it’s certainly not a permanent solution, when he speaks again. “So, Sweetie, huh? Haven’t seen you around before — that what they call you in here?” he questions, smirk playing at his lips.

You laugh in response and introduce yourself, and tell him this isn’t your normal shift, but you’ll probably be around for it moving forward. You take his breakfast order, and tell him you’ll let him get back to his paper.

You don’t converse much more when you bring Joel his breakfast, just quiet thanks when you refill his coffee cup. He looks so peaceful, you almost hate to interrupt each time. You ask Reggie about him when you both have a minute behind the counter.

“Yep, that’s Joel. Gorgeous, isn’t he? Started coming in a few months back with an older lady, then more regularly by himself. She’s with him once in a while, kinda seems like a mom vibe, but she doesn’t look like him. Anyway, I think he works construction or something, always coming in with those boots on looking like a lumberjack,” Reggie says flippantly. “Heard from the older lady one day when he was in the bathroom — his daughter went to college back in the fall, they’ve been trying to get him out ever since,” he said, looking sympathetic at the thought.

You feel your heart do a little squeeze at this newfound tidbit. A fresh empty nester. You know how hard it’s been for Diane, so much she’s taken to parenting the staff in her daughter’s stead. Staring at Joel’s back as his head is bowed reading the paper, you begin wondering more and more about him. His daughter’s probably around eighteen, so how old is he? You’d guess he isn’t married, and you didn’t see a ring. Who is he? Why does he come here to read his paper each day? And most importantly — how soon can you find out the answers to these questions? You don’t want to ambush him at all and scare him off, but you’re drawn to him, and so very curious.

Meanwhile, Joel is stealing glances at your reflection in the diner window in front of him, watching you laugh with Reggie and the customers at the bar, smiling sweetly when someone makes a request of you. He needs to get out of there before he starts feeling creepy, he thinks. He rises and walks to the counter to settle his bill with Reggie at the cash register, glancing at you when he does so, futilely trying to balance showing interest and being weird. He leaves a nice tip in the jar for all of you to share, but just before he turns to go, he looks back at you, locking eyes.

“Oh uh, Sweetie?,” he says, smirk on his face. He looks almost bashful when he speaks next, like he’s working up the courage. “Glad you’re picking up. Look forward to seein’ you again,” he smiles. The look on his face when he says it is so sincere, you could melt on the spot. He was nervous about his joke, you could tell, but recovered when you laughed in reply.

“Looking forward to it too, Joel. Enjoy your day,” you say, smiling wide in return. He gives a little wave to everyone before grinnig down at his shoes and walking out of the diner into the crisp February air. Your eyes follow him out to the pick-up he hops into, before looking back over to Reggie and Tony, staring at you devilishly.

“And I’m looking forward to seeing this story unravel,” says Reggie, looking over at Tony and grinning, like something juicy has just unfolded before their eyes. The two are laughing while you smile and wave them off, wiping down the counter. Diane emerges from the office at the sound of their hearty laughter, reading glasses slipping down her nose, notepad in hand, and stares back at the three of you.

“What’d I miss?!,” she asks. You’re smiling too much to respond with anything genuine, so you return to your wiping, and let Reggie take the lead.

[fruitjoos]

what are you thankful for?

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

contains: the normal angst, mentions of cheating

note: that one holiday special ep where the couple argues for the entire duration and realizes they aren’t as happy with each other as they think lol

You both walked through the door, fresh from dinner at the Donaldsons’. You hated how pretentious that sounded—‘dinner at the Donaldsons’. Worse, you wished you’d thought to turn the heat on before you left. Now the cold air creeping through the drafty windows painfully pricked at your skin.

Patrick let out a frustrated sigh behind you, but you ignored it. The click of your heels rippling on the hardwood as you made your way to the thermostat in the den before heading for the bedroom.

“So, we’re just gonna pretend like everything’s fine?” Patrick called after you, his voice pressing. “Like you didn’t notice it?”

He’d been picking at this since you left dinner, his words distinct the second his seatbelt clicked into place. The drive home had been a gauntlet of accusations—did you remember what he said to you during dinner? Did you even care? It wasn’t that you hadn’t been listening; it was just simply a lot. Too many questions, too much wine, too much of whatever was emerging slowly.

You sighed, unclasping your earrings as you stood by the dresser. “Notice what, Patrick?”

“Dude, don’t do that.” He followed you into the bedroom, standing just inside the doorway, his hands on his hips. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

You caught his reflection in the mirror as you placed your earrings down, his face knotted up, fighting the urge to spill whatever bitterness he was holding.

“I really don’t have the energy for this right now,” you muttered, reaching behind you to unzip your dress.

Patrick scoffed, stepping forward. “Of course you don’t. Convenient, isn’t it? You didn’t have the energy to sit through dinner without staring at Art like he hung the damn moon either.”

Your hands froze on the zipper. “I was not—”

“You were,” he cut you off, his voice rising. “The way you were looking at him. Laughing at his stupid jokes. You don’t even laugh like that with me anymore.”

You turned to face him, dress half unzipped, the tension already fraying your patience. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” His arms crossed, his tone sharper now. “And at the table—when I reached for your hand? You pulled away. What was that about?”

You laugh, almost in disbelief, kicking off your heels. “That's what this is about? I let go of your hand? You’re mad over that?”

“It’s not just that, and you know it.” His voice was much louder now, breaking slightly. “It’s everything. You’re distant, distracted—”

“Oh my God,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you walked toward the bathroom. “You’re such a crybaby. All this over me not holding your hand? Grow up, Patrick.”

“Crybaby?” He followed you, his voice cracking with frustration. “You think this is some game? You think I’m just being dramatic?”

You grabbed your face wash, intentionally avoiding his gaze. “I think you’re looking for a fight, and I’m not giving you one.”

“You already are,” he responded abruptly. “Every time you brush me off like this, every time you act like I’m the problem for noticing—”

“Noticing what?” You whirled around, water dripping from your hands. “That I didn’t laugh at your jokes? That I didn’t hold your hand? God forbid I exist for five minutes without catering to your fragile ego.”

His jaw clenched, his face flushing. “It’s not about my ego. It’s about respect. About the fact that I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, but half the time, I feel like I’m just there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, brushing past him to grab a towel. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”

“Am I?” His voice followed you as you moved back to the bedroom, his frustration growing with every step. “Tell me I’m wrong, then. Tell me you weren’t staring at Art tonight like you wished you were with him instead of me.”

You froze, towel twisted in your hands. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Tell me.” He stepped closer, his voice low and insistent.

“Enough, Patrick.” You tossed the towel onto the bed, your movements conscious. “And I’m done with this conversation.”

“Well, I’m not!” he shouted, and the force of it filled the room. “Because this is what you do. Every single time. You brush me off, call me dramatic, and then go on like nothing’s wrong.”

You turned to him, your patience snapping. “What do you want from me? An apology? Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t perform some perfect version of a girlfriend for you at dinner tonight. Happy now?”

“No, I’m not happy!” His fists closed, his voice bare. “Because it’s not just tonight. It’s everything. I’m here fighting for us and you’re just letting everything slip away.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, his words sinking in. You stared at him, your heart thumping loud inside your chest.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, the fight draining from his posture. “I just want to feel like you still care.”

You didn’t answer, and after a minute, he turned and left the room.

When the door shut behind him, it didn’t slam. But the sound of it carried louder than anything else.

You sank onto the bed, hands trembling as you pressed them to your face. Somewhere in the apartment, a door slammed.

You stayed there, not moving, letting the blaring silence surround you. The fight replayed in your mind, each word as clear as it had been when screamed, each accusation sticking the landing.

You thought it was over. You thought the slammed door was his way of drawing the line, of letting the tension dissipate somewhere else in the apartment. But then you heard his footsteps again, heading back toward the bedroom.

You didn’t look up when he stopped in the doorway.

You slipped your rings off, placing them carefully into the gold bowl on your nightstand.

Patrick lingered, his presence evident as you tugged your sleep mask into place. The room was faint except for the warm radiance of his own bedside lamp.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

You didn’t answer, refusing to rise to the bait.

He let out an angered breath, the tension in him coiling tighter. And then, like a wire snapping under too much pressure, he said, “Maybe I should’ve just slept with Tashi when she asked me to.”

Slowly, you pushed the sleep mask back up, sitting up on your elbows, just enough to meet his gaze. “What the hell did you just say?”

“You heard me.” He crossed his arms, the only readable expression being the bitterness that twisted his mouth. “Maybe I should’ve. At least then, I wouldn’t feel like this—like I’m invisible to the person who’s supposed to care the most.”

Your jaw tightened as you straightened fully. “You’re insane. Trying to make me jealous over something that didn’t even happen? What’s the point, Patrick? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he said, stepping closer, his tone defensive but laced with s bit of vulnerability. “I’m just saying maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m begging for scraps of your attention if I had someone who actually gave a damn.”

You felt his words, the intention behind them, but you refused to let it show. “If you think sleeping with Tashi would’ve solved anything, then maybe you should’ve. Rewrite history if it makes you feel better.”

He let out a sour chuckle. “You don’t even care, do you? You’re sitting here acting like none of this matters, like I’m just making this up.”

“Because you are,” you bit back. “You’re picking a fight over something that didn’t happen, over a feeling you can’t even explain. If cheating would’ve fixed your issues, then maybe the problem isn’t me.”

“Don’t twist this,” he said, his voice cracking at the edges. “You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” You swung your legs off the bed, arms crossed. “That you’re so desperate for attention, you’d throw this in my face just to hurt me? Congratulations. It worked.”

His anger faltered, replaced by regret. “I’m drowning here. And you don’t care. You never care.”

You stood your ground, unwilling to give an inch. “You want me to care? Then stop acting like a child throwing tantrums to get a reaction.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. Instead, he shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

“Forget it,” he muttered, voice low, almost resigned. He turned, grabbing a pillow from the bed, and walked out.

From the hallway, his voice came again, quieter this time but still carrying desperately. “I don’t know why you do this. You act like nothing I feel matters. Like it’s all just a joke to you.”

You let out a long breath, finally dropping your hands from your face. “Patrick,” you said, softer now, but tired.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He didn’t respond, his silhouette disappearing into the living room as he tossed the pillow onto the couch.

[angelsfat3]

ⓘㅤ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄. ⠀⠀( 使用我。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. What seemed like infidelity between your boyfriend and his best friend, became your sinful moment.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Smut, threesome, suggestive.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Oral giving/receiving, experimental, fingering, light cursing, strangling (mild).

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

“Are you going to tell him?” Jungwon asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and anxiety as he sat on the bed. His fingers, intertwined with Jay’s, trembled slightly, as if afraid of the answer.

Jay sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the closed door of the master bedroom. He squeezed Jungwon’s hand in a gesture that spoke more than his words could. “I don’t know,” he finally replied, his tone barely above a whisper.

He turned his gaze to his friend, finding solace in the warm, understanding eyes of Jungwon. “I don’t know if he’ll really accept it. What if we ruin everything?” His voice wavered slightly at the end, reflecting the weight of his doubts.

Jungwon gave a small, reassuring smile, leaning toward him. “Jay, this isn’t just about us. It’s about him, too. I can't keep hiding this from him, right?”

On the other side of the door, an unmoving figure listened to every word, their hands trembling as they clenched into fists at their sides.

They had been standing there since hearing their boyfriend open the apartment door, ready to scare Jay as a playful surprise. But instead, their plan froze in its tracks when they heard their name whispered in a tone heavy with tension.

“What if it’s not what we imagine?” Jay insisted, his voice cracking. “What if this destroys everything?”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

With his heart pounding and the air feeling too thick to breathe, he turned the door handle and stepped inside, his face a mix of fear and pain. “What the hell are you hiding from me?”

Jay and Jungwon froze at the same time. The words died on their lips, their eyes locking onto his. “It’s not what you think,” Jungwon stammered, quickly standing up, but the expression on his boyfriend’s face made it clear he wasn’t convinced.

“Then tell me what it is. Because from what I heard… it sounds exactly like what I think it is.”

The silence that followed was so heavy it could have been cut with a knife.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

The room was bathed in a warm dimness, with the soft hum of the fan breaking the silence.

Jay, seated in the armchair, crossed his legs with an almost practiced calm, but the intensity in his gaze made it clear he was entirely present, watching every move.

Jungwon lay stretched out on the bed, his legs crossed casually, but the crooked smile on his lips and the way his fingers toyed with the sheets left no doubt that there was nothing innocent about his posture. His eyes locked onto [...], who remained standing near the door, struggling with nerves.

“You look so tense. Did you get cold feet at the last minute?” he asked with a slow smile, tilting his head slightly, his tone a perfect blend of teasing and challenge.

[...] quickly shook their head, though their throat felt dry. “No, it’s not that…” they replied, even though their feet seemed rooted to the floor.

“Enough, Jungwon,” Jay cut in from his spot in the armchair, though his tone was indulgent, almost amused. His eyes stayed fixed on his partner, analyzing every move. “Don’t push too hard. It’s not like you don’t know this is new for him, too.”

“Push him? Please…” Jungwon replied with an air of mock innocence, raising his hands as if he had no idea what Jay was talking about. Then he turned his attention back to [...], his eyes gleaming with a mix of sweetness and mischief. “I’m just trying to help him feel... comfortable.”

The weight of the situation was heavier now than ever, [...] though they couldn’t deny that there was something deeply thrilling about all of this. They’d fantasized about this moment more than once, though they’d never have admitted it openly.

The heat on [...]’s face deepened as Jungwon leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur that seemed to wrap around them.

“Just come here,” he said, extending his hand with a softness that contrasted with the mischievous glint in his eyes. “I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want... yet.”

“Let him decide,” Jay interjected again from his corner, his voice soft but firm. His dark, piercing eyes never left [...]. “He wants to do this, Jungwon. He’s just nervous. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

[...] felt a shiver run down their spine.

It was true.

They’d talked about it before, more times than they could count. Jay had been the first to bring it up, one night when his touch had led their conversation into deeper, more intimate territory. “You don’t have to do this for me,” Jay had said back then, his tone as understanding as it was provocative. “But if you ever wanted to try, Jungwon wouldn’t say no.”

Since then, the playful teasing with Jungwon had slowly nurtured the idea, turning it from a fleeting thought into a real possibility. And now, here they were.

“Come on...” Jungwon murmured, his voice softer now. He extended a hand toward [...], his fingers curling slightly in invitation. “I’m here. And Jay is, too. You don’t have to feel nervous.”

[...] took a step toward the bed, their breathing quickening as anticipation built. Jay, still seated in the armchair, gave a faint smile, as though watching something he’d envisioned countless times finally unfold.

“Just relax,” Jungwon whispered, his smile triumphant as [...] stepped closer. Their hands met, and the contact sent a spark through [...] that quickly spread like wildfire. They could feel both sets of eyes on them, and instead of being intimidating, it awakened something inside them—something they were just beginning to understand.

“That’s what I like to see,” Jungwon murmured, tightening his grip on [...]’s wrist and gently pulling them forward, causing them to fall to their knees beside the bed.

With a smooth motion, Jungwon tangled his fingers in [...]’s hair, tilting their chin up so their eyes met. “You’re so nervous… but that just makes you look even cuter.”

Jay let out a low, satisfied chuckle from his spot in the armchair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, his tone soft yet laced with quiet authority. “You don’t have to hide from us. Let us take care of you.”

[...] looked into their eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the moment envelop them. They might still be anxious, but deep down, they knew this was exactly where they wanted to be.

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze dipped to [...]’s lap, a low, bittersweet laugh escaping his lips—designed to disarm anyone who heard it. His hands, firm yet gentle, slid from [...]’s wrists to their elbows, guiding them upward with an ease that made them feel weightless.

“On your feet,” he murmured, his voice low and charged with intent as he helped [...] stand.

Once [...] stood before him, his heart pounding like a drum in their ears, the dark-haired man pushed him gently onto the bed. The softness of the motion did nothing to diminish its intensity.

[...] fell back against the sheets, the mattress sinking beneath his weight as he looked up at Jungwon with a mixture of uncertainty and something else—something burning brighter with each passing moment.

Before they could fully process what was happening, Jungwon was already crouched between their legs, his posture relaxed yet dangerous, exuding complete control.

Jay, seated nearby, watched silently, his eyes following every movement with an almost tangible intensity. The room grew heavier with tension, and though he wasn’t participating, the heat of the moment seemed to overtake him. He ran a hand along his neck, loosening the top button of his shirt as a bead of sweat slid down his temple.

Jungwon, either unaware of Jay’s growing state or secretly relishing it, let his hands move with deliberate slowness. His fingers traced light, teasing lines upward from [...]’s knees, gliding along their thighs with just enough pressure to provoke but not to satisfy.

[...] bit his lip, their breathing turning uneven as Jungwon’s hands reached the edge of their pants, only to slide back down, purposefully brushing against their growing erection.

“So sensitive…” Jungwon murmured, his thumbs playing with the fabric as his gaze alternated between [...]’s eyes and the rising tension between them.

Jay tilted his head slightly, his darkening gaze fixed on the scene before him. Crossing one leg over the other, he seemed to try and ease the heat coursing through him. Yet he didn’t look away, trapped by every second of the unfolding moment.

Watching his boyfriend possibly being fucked by his best friend wasn’t a thought Jay often entertained—but now, it was one he craved deeply.

He wanted to know if he would react the same way as he did when he pleasured himself between his thighs during the quiet nights when they slept.

Or would jealousy take over, and the one who would end up watching them fuck would be Jungwon.

When Jungwon’s fingers reached the waistband of [...]’s pants, he tilted his head, his eyes fixed on the way [...]’s chest rose and fell with each breath.

“Do you know how much I enjoy this?” he asked, though it seemed rhetorical. His fingers brushed the exposed skin near the waistband with a softness that made [...] close his eyes, struggling not to completely lose control.

[...] hesitantly lowered his gaze, meeting Jungwon’s hungry, mischievous expression—the look of someone who saw them as a prize, a delicate one. His cheeks flushed a vivid crimson, the color spreading to their ears.

“You’re so quiet,” Jungwon continued, letting one hand travel back to [...]’s thigh while the other toyed with the edge of their waistband. “Does that mean you like it? Because… it seems like you do.”

Jay let out a soft gasp, not even attempting to hide it. His eyes stayed locked on the scene, taking in every motion Jungwon made and every reaction that [...] couldn’t suppress.

It was erotic—at least, it was about to become so.

The heat coursing through Jay’s body made him shift in his seat, his fingers gripping the armrests tightly. Occasionally, he pressed his palm against himself, as if that could somehow delay the inevitable.

[...] broke their gaze from Jungwon momentarily, letting the man’s expert touch guide him.

Though nerves still lingered, something about Jungwon’s hands, the tenderness of his voice, began to melt the anxiety away. In its place, a warm, consuming heat was taking over.

Jungwon leaned in closer, his lips barely grazing the exposed skin as his fingers continued their journey. "Don't hide from me," he said in a tone that was both sweet and demanding, as if he knew exactly how to make [...] surrender completely.

As he lowered his face even further, his lips barely brushed the bare skin of [...], just above the waistband of his pants. His hands, now firm and determined, began to slowly slide the fabric, as if every second was designed to make the atmosphere even more charged.

[...] swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him, the cold air of the room brushing against his exposed skin. His breath became more erratic, a soft gasp escaping his lips as the fabric finally slid down to his knees. His perfect skin tingled from the intense sensation, adding to the heat surrounding him.

"You’re so cute," Yang murmured with a satisfied smile, lifting his gaze to catch the expression on [...], who briefly squinted, embarrassed but unable to hide how his body reacted to the touch.

Without warning, Jungwon raised one of his hands and let his fingers catch the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down with a fluidity that caught him completely off guard. The movement was quick, precise, leaving the boy exposed to him and to Jay.

"Ah!" [...], exclaimed, his eyes wide open as his body tensed for a moment. His cheeks burned, the heat flooding his entire being as his fingers instinctively reached to cover himself, but Jungwon stopped him with a firm hand.

"No," Jungwon demanded, his tone dark and smooth. "Isn't this what we agreed on? Let me show you how much you can enjoy feeling my mouth."

[...] lay half naked on the bed, the tip of his cock dripping with pre-seed and completely hard, inside his mind he was cursing himself, his eyes closed and his head sinking onto the bed. His mouth snapped shut, passing saliva.

Jay, on the other hand, left his gaze fixed on every detail of the scene in front of him. His lips parted as his hand slowly descended towards his landlady. Without taking his eyes off his boyfriend, he lowered the zipper of his pants, seeking to get his meat out and relieve his growing erection.

“It's beautiful, don't you think, Jay?” Jungwon asked without turning his head, his fingers tracing slow circles on [...]'s pelvis, descending them, slowly entering his inner thighs, making the latter shudder under his touch.

Jay nodded, his voice caught in his throat as his gaze remained riveted on […]'s body, on the way his ass pressed against the mattress and made his hips more inviting, on how his thighs were being squeezed by Yang. “He's so incredibly beautiful like this..” Jay murmured, his tone low but charged with emotion.

The words seemed to slide through the atmosphere like another caress, making him blush even more.

Jungwon smiled sinisterly upon hearing that, as if it had been a compliment to him too. “Did you hear it, [...]? Even Jay can't take his eyes off you. You have us hard as a rock.”

Without warning, he lowered his head a little lower, letting his lips barely graze […]'s hipbone, leaving a trail of soft but deliberate kisses that made him arch slightly against the bed.

Jungwon's hands, still resting on his thighs, began to slide inward, getting dangerously close to his core, but not actually touching it.

“You're so impatient,” Jungwon murmured, smiling as he felt [...] the muscles in his legs tense, as if he were struggling to maintain control. “Do you want me to continue? Because you just have to ask me. I want to hear it from you.”

[...] opened his eyes, catching Jungwon's intense gaze. His lips trembled, unable to form words at first.

Every fiber of his being was on edge, but there was something in the way Jungwon looked at him, in how his boyfriend on the couch watched approvingly, that made him feel more vulnerable and desired than ever.

Jay tilted his head, his eyes narrowed as he let out a soft smile. “Tell him, my love. Tell him what you need.” His tone was gentle but firm, a reminder that he was there to support and guide, even from his position as a spectator. For now.

Finally, […], mustering all the courage he could, he let out a trembling whisper. “Please...don't stop. Go on..."

Jungwon let out a wide smile, leaning down to place a slow kiss on the inside of his thigh, causing a muffled gasp to escape […]'s lips. “I like it that way,” he murmured, letting his hands continue to explore, making sure that every touch, every movement, felt like a wave of electricity coursing through his skin.

Jungwon let his hands slowly descend [...]'s legs, exploring every corner with a deliberate calm that only increased the tension in the air.

The weight of his gaze did not leave [...]'s face, who trembled slightly under the black-haired man's control, feeling his warm breath approach his skin.

With a slow movement, Jungwon tilted his head and let his tongue graze the soft curve of [...]'s inner thigh.

The contact was brief but electrifying, causing a ragged gasp to escape his lips. The sensation was new, intense, and seemed to resonate throughout his body like an unstoppable current.

“So sweet,” Jungwon murmured, leaving a wet trail with his tongue as it slowly moved up […]'s thigh, reaching his balls. His tone was low, almost a caress in itself, as if he enjoyed not only every reaction he provoked, but also the way his prey seemed to give in little by little.

Jungwon's fingers gently pressed into [...]'s hips, steadying him as his mouth calmly explored. Between kisses and light playful bites on his pelvis, he let his lips stop just before reaching the tip, as if he were testing how much he could take [...].

“Jay,” Jungwon called without taking his mouth off his length, his voice charged with a mixture of challenge and complicity, his vibrato easily reflected over the bottom's pulsing member. “Your boyfriend is enjoying it too much, don't you think?”

Jay let out a small laugh, though his tone reflected the warmth he felt. "I hope so. I want him to feel how special he is… and that you take good care of him.”

[...] closed his eyes for a moment, his hands instinctively searching for something to hold on to, as his body shuddered with every touch and every whisper from Jungwon.

At that moment, any trace of nervousness was left behind, replaced by a feeling of complete surrender.

Every word of affirmation Jay delivered was only what Yang internally needed to continue torturing the two. He returned his attention to the above, opening his lips and slowly letting the h/c member in, it was salty and sweet, a perfect combination.

His eyes never left their target, he always looked for the priceless reaction, especially when he lowered his tongue and sucked him from his fat balls to the limit of his phallus.

Jungwon continued with his tongue, slowly exploring the glans of [...], around it, tracing soft and deliberate circles on his most sensitive skin as he sucked on it. The unexpected touch drew a sharp gasp from his lips, and his body trembled under the sensation, a mix of surprise and desire that left him breathless.

"Calm down..." Jungwon whispered still with his half-full mouth, the tone that was both an order and a way to cope.

His hands remained firm on the e/c's pelvis, his fingers around his member, holding him in place as his tongue moved with calculated precision up and down his urethra, his mouth completely embracing the head of [...].

Every movement was intentional, designed to elicit involuntary sighs and moans that echoed through the room.

Jungwon's mouth seemed like heaven to the boy, his intentional “mmm..” that made his throat vibrate and gave him that new experience. His hands slowly began to take his stick, masturbating it slowly, in a circular, back-and-forth manner.

Jay, from the armchair, watched with his eyes half-closed and his chest rising and falling slowly, trapped between the pleasure of witnessing and the heat that ran through his own body.

His boyfriend's shaky gasps filled the room, each sound escaping his lips like an electric whisper that made him clench his fists against his own thighs.

His breathing became heavy as he watched him arch his back, his body completely surrendered to the almost cruel precision of Jungwon's tongue.

It was torture, sweet torture, seeing how his boyfriend reacted to every movement, to every slow and calculated stroke that the black-haired man drew on his skin.

Jay could feel the heat building in his chest, spreading through his body, trapping him in a state of arousal that was as intense as the desire he read in his best friend's eyes.

Jungwon, as if he knew exactly what he provoked, turned his head slightly and cast a fleeting glance towards Jay, a barely perceptible smile on his lips, his corners filled with saliva.

It was a silent invitation, a reminder that all of this was as much for him as for [...], a display of control and seduction that seemed to dominate the room.

As Jungwon's head bobbed up and down, one of his hands squeezed and massaged his balls, while the other slowly delved into his ring. Making […] moan louder, Jay let out a ragged breath, bringing a hand to his jaw in a desperate attempt to hold back. But every moan, every arch of his boyfriend's back, only intensified the fire that consumed him.

“You're enjoying it, aren't you?” Jungwon said with difficulty, his voice soft but carrying a dominant tone, even though he was fucking his mouth with […]'s cock.

The e/c could only moan softly and let out a few tears of pleasure, his hands had gone to Yang's head and moved his hips in a circular manner. He always tried to push the black-haired man's head deeper, who only slapped his thigh or squeezed his dick to make him stop.

The sensation of being sucked and penetrated by a pair of delicate, but long fingers was enveloping. It wasn't going to last long like this.

Suddenly, Jay stood up with an expression that combined frustration and determination. His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it with calculated movements on his way to the bed, while his gaze never left […].

Jungwon looked up after a few seconds, not stopping what he was doing, with a superior smile that seemed to enjoy the change in dynamics.

Jay dropped his pants to the floor, adjusting them leisurely before putting one foot up on the bed, followed by the other. The firmness of his movements contrasted with the intensity of the situation.

Slowly, he began to advance on the mattress, approaching with a clear intention until he was positioned on top of [...], who, trapped between the two, could not take his eyes off his boyfriend.

When Park finally positioned himself with his legs on either side of his face, he leaned forward, resting his hands on the bed. His presence was overwhelming, especially when he leaned over him, letting his shadow fall over his partner's vulnerable body. “Look at me.” He ordered, his voice low but loaded with authority.

[...] raised his eyes timidly, his cheeks flushed as the way he passed saliva filled the silence between them. Closeness was a constant tension, and the way Jay watched him made every nerve in his body light up.

The brunette let out a low laugh, looking at his boyfriend's half-naked body and noticing again the way he had his legs on Jungwon's broad shoulders, who was sucking him, having the tip of his nose on the h/c's pelvis. He moaned softly, not wanting to break his crystalline gaze.

“Look at you.” He murmured, leaning back slightly, as his hands stopped resting on the mattress, instead, they were pulling down his boxers, only to let his heavy flesh out. “Aren't you supposed to be nervous? Now... you're shaking and begging for more. How much of a slut can you be, my love?” His tone was heavy with mockery, his voice dripping with contempt disguised as fascination.

[...] looked away for a moment, embarrassed after seeing how big the other was, but Jay wouldn't let him.

His hand reached out to grab his chin firmly, forcing him to look straight at him. “No,” he continued, a smirk on his lips. “You have no right to turn your face away. If you're going to behave like this... at least have the decency to continue.”

Each word cut like a whip, making his body tremble under the weight of them. His breathing was erratic, his lips parted, unable to respond with anything more than a ragged gasp.

And Park did not miss another opportunity, he took advantage of his boy's lips, so he firmly took his cock and caressed those pink foams with his tip. “Open wide.” he demanded.

[...] With his eyes on him, he simply paid attention, so his mouth opened a couple of centimeters more, suddenly feeling it enter him.

Jungwon, on one side, did not interrupt, but his mouth continued to drool over the boy's dick, straddling the boy's cock that drew involuntary sounds from [...] and himself. This only seemed to further fuel Jay's cruel tone, and he let out a short laugh.

“Is that all you can do?” Jay said as he watched the e/c begin to move his head slowly and stick out his tongue so he could lick as much as he could, arching an eyebrow he simply squeezed his jaw. “Oh, come on. If you’re going to be such a... slut now, at least give me something more interesting than that pathetic attempt at giving me head.”

With that, his hand moved down, tracing a slow, deliberate path down […]'s neck, while holding it in place, squeezing it. His gaze was cold, evaluating, as if he were enjoying the show more than the act itself.

Jungwon raised his head briefly, hearing a pop as his lips released the cock, his eyes shining with a spark of defiance as he continued his movements inside the tight hole. “I think your boyfriend likes it more than he wants to admit, Jay,” he commented, his tone thick with provocation. “It got even harder.”

Jay simply nodded, pushing himself further into [...]'s mouth, he gasped as he felt the weight of the hand and how he sought to receive a good blowjob, his chest rising and falling rapidly as the sensations enveloped him.

The mix between Jungwon's tongue and hands, along with Jay's firmness created a contrast that had him completely overwhelmed, unable to resist either of them.

Park let out a dry laugh, shoving himself even further into [...], his nose now mere inches from the fat balls. “Don’t tell me something I already know,” he replied to Yang, his tone firm and mocking at the same time.

As he spoke, he squeezed [...]'s neck a little tighter, making the contact as intense as his words. His other hand moved down to [...]'s chest, brushing his fingertips against the hard flesh. Squeezing them between his fingers.

“If you can’t talk, at least make sure your moans are clear enough,” Jay said with a sly grin. “I want to hear exactly how much you’re begging for more.”

[...] closed his eyes for a moment, a muffled moan escaping his throat as his body arched slightly under the weight of both their presences. The pressure on his neck, adding to the fact that it was now his mouth that was being fucked without mercy, adding to Jungwon's tongue returning to its previous work, sucking no more than his point.

All in unison they kept him on the edge, with no possibility of escape.

Jungwon, without missing a beat, increased the intensity of his fingers inside the ring, as if he was determined to push [...] beyond what he thought he could handle. “It's about to break, Jay,” he murmured, his tone playful but confident. “Why don't you give it the final push?”

“We’re not even getting started, Jungwon.”

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ Yes... It took me a long time and I didn't like the beginning and the end that much. Anon, I'll make it up to you with another story, I promise.︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

[biancadoes1]

hi! it’s the first time i write here but i’ve been following and reading for a while now. i’m on the nicluke/lukola ship since may and always will be, i think that what we saw was real and sooner or later they will realise it too

BUT

i struggle to agree with the various theories that come out day after day. looking at the facts, it is more logical for me to believe that they are both with other people at the moment and i accept it for what it is.

why would N pretend to be with JD? why would A post the same restaurant as L if she wasn’t really there?

i just don’t think that these theories make sense while some people choose to believe them because they fit their narrative

Well, anon, the theories you have are also fitting the narrative you, a large amount of shippers, and the media have going, which is Luke and Nicola are both with other people.

We all have a narrative that makes sense to us, but the people believing a narrative because it sounds good, rather than makes total sense, are the people who spiral the quickest and the hardest because they haven’t wrapped their minds around what they’ve seen.

If you believe they are with other people and that what we’ve been shown by OTHER people and NOT Nicola and Luke then that’s fine. We can respect that.

However, I’m disagreeing with you heavily but respectfully. I believe they are (and have been for a good amount of time) together based off what we have seen, what’s been shown, and what keeps happening. Patterns have led me to what I believe.

I’m choosing to not listen to what other people are pushing on me. I’m choosing to pay attention to what is being said non-verbally by the two people all this shit is surrounding, which is quite a bit if you take the time to understand.

Unfortunately, many people are stuck with their personal feelings coloring the situation rather than the facts that we know of.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Full Throttle Heart

Pairing:Eddie Munson x Reader

AU: Mechanic Eddie x reader

Warnings: none

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, I need Eddie so bad rn- especially with the release of Gladiator 2

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

You weren’t surprised to find yourself back at Munson’s Garage, not after how your car had been behaving lately. The thing was a mess—sputtering and groaning like it was on its last legs. Eddie Munson, though? He’d been fixing it up for years now.

Years. You weren’t sure how time had passed so fast, but it had been nearly five years since Eddie had rolled into town, taking over the garage after his uncle retired. You remembered the way Wayne Munson had always been kind to you, fixing up your parents’ cars on the cheap. When he handed the reins to Eddie, you’d been skeptical.

Eddie, who you’d known vaguely from high school, was more known for playing his guitar in the cafeteria and making dramatic speeches about “the conformity machine” than anything resembling responsibility. You weren’t exactly close back then, running in different circles, but you remembered his energy, his loud laughter, and his ability to command attention.

When you walked into the garage that first time and saw Eddie, covered in grease but still rocking his signature chain and bandana combo, it took a moment to recognize him. He grinned, leaning against the workbench like he had all the time in the world.

“Well, well. Look who’s stumbled into my domain,” he’d said.

Your car had needed a new starter then, and Eddie had been surprisingly competent. The snark and flair were still there, but underneath that was someone who really cared about his work. You left the shop that day with a working car and the faint beginnings of a friendship you didn’t expect.

Now, all these years later, you realized just how much Eddie had become a constant in your life. It wasn’t just car trouble anymore. Anytime you had an excuse to swing by the shop—whether to drop off coffee, borrow his tools, or just complain about your day—you did. And Eddie? He always made you feel welcome, even if it was with a teasing smirk and some exaggerated comment about how much trouble you were.

You’d told yourself for years that you didn’t think about him that way. He was Eddie. Loud, messy Eddie who played guitar in his garage band and spent half his weekends fixing up junkers with some of his old high school friends. But the more you showed up, the more you saw him for who he really was: funny, kind, hardworking, and, yeah, ridiculously attractive.

It was in the little things. Like how he remembered how you took your coffee. Or how he never charged you for little fixes, no matter how many times you insisted. Or the way his face lit up when you laughed at one of his jokes.

That autumn evening was no different. You walked into the shop, shivering against the chill, and found Eddie bent over an old Chevelle. The sight was one you were used to—his wild curls tied back, grease smudged on his cheek, his bandana barely holding his hair out of his face.

“Munson, tell me my car isn’t completely dead,” you said as you crossed the room.

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag before grinning at you. “Sweetheart, your car’s got one foot in the grave, but I’m a miracle worker. You know that.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned against the workbench. “So, what’s wrong with it this time?”

He launched into an explanation about the alternator, but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you found yourself watching the way his hands moved when he talked, the way his lips quirked into a smile when he teased you, the way his eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary.

“And that’s why you need to stop ignoring the weird noises it’s been making,” he finished, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you said quickly. “What was that last part?”

Eddie’s grin widened. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

“Just fix it,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Of course,” he said, stepping closer. “But only if you agree to dinner.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Dinner?”

He shrugged, trying to look casual, though the slight twitch of his fingers gave him away. “Yeah, dinner. Or coffee. Or whatever excuse you need to keep coming back here and making my day.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the admission, but you quickly covered it with a smirk. “Fix the car first, Munson. I’ll think about it.”

The next day, you returned with coffee and takeout, feeling more nervous than you had any right to. Eddie greeted you with his usual teasing grin, but there was a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Peace offering?” he asked, taking the coffee from you.

“Something like that,” you said, handing him the bag of food.

As he worked on your car, the two of you fell into your usual rhythm—banter, jokes, stories from your day. But beneath it all was something unspoken, something that had been building between you for years.

When he finished, he leaned against the car, crossing his arms as he looked at you. “She’s good to go. But, uh, you know, I meant it. About dinner.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. “I know.”

“And?”

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile that was threatening to take over your face. “I’ll pick you up at seven. But only if you clean up first.”

Eddie laughed, the sound warm and full of promise. “Deal.”

Dinner turned into takeout on the hood of your car, parked by the lake where you used to hang out as kids. Somewhere between bites of fries and Eddie’s terrible jokes, he reached for your hand. You let him, the grease-stained calluses on his fingers grounding you in the moment.

“Guess you’re stuck with me now,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

“Guess so,” you replied softly, leaning just a little closer.

Eddie Munson, once the loud kid from high school, was now the quiet comfort you didn’t know you needed. And as the stars reflected on the water, you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[livelaughlovesubs]

Happy anniversary! Could you do the prompt punishing/torturing toji after he lied to shiu about being a Dom or something? And then shiu tells reader and she decides to show shiu what really happens in bed 👹👹

Apologies if it’s hard to understand but I hope u see the vision

Once again happy anniversary!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted reader to fuck Toji in front of shiu or just to punish him… I went with the latter sooo

Dom!reader x sub!toji - reader is gn

Warning: orgasm deny, edging, foot job, stepping, teasing, pet play (?), degradation, bondage

Anniversary event

“Y/nnnn~” shiu slurred over your name, snickering as he tapped his cigarette over the ashtray. “You know, I was surprised when I found out your preferences.” He held an almost empty glass with his other hand, and you cheered your own drink against his. “Oh really? Still surprised I’m dating this guy over here?” You stubbed your elbow against Toji, who sat next to you, then you chuckled, “that joke’s getting old.”

He empties the last bits of his beverage and said, “no no, not thaaat. I mean you didn’t give off the feels of…” he stopped for a moment to take a drag, thinking over his words. It was obvious that he was tipsy, if not, drunk. You didn’t really pay attention to a drunk’s blabbering, not until he continued with, “…you know, of a sub, haha!” Suddenly you froze, what did he just say? Before you got the chance to ask, Toji slammed his fist against the table and growled, “cut the crap, don’t talk nonsense when you are wasted.”

“Oh , I didn’t mean it in a condescending way, I was just surprised when you told me.” While he said that, he locked eyes with your dearest boyfriend, so when he said ‘you’… “don’t listen to him, y/n. He’s drunk.” Your partner commented, his voice had a hint of hesitation, he also glared at Shiu, who didn’t even notice the hostile glances. “I want to hear more though. What else did this guy say?” You ignored him and turned your focus to the male sitting across the table.

“I don’t remember all that well, just, that he was the one in charge?” After finishing his sentence he took another drag of his cigarette. Toji hastily stood up and told you, “no way, he’s making things up. Why would I do that anyway?” His smile looked a little crooked, you knew him well enough to tell if he was lying. “Huh? I thought you were bragging about it.” Shiu asked, almost naively. If he wasn’t drunk before he definitely was now. “Fucking hell, can’t you just shut up.” The little scar on his lips twitched when he spoke, and he was certainly agitated.

You smiled through it all, speaking as calm as you managed, “so that’s what happened? Haha.” Toji turned to look at you, mumbling in a quieter tone, “you don’t believe him, right y/n?” Your lips curled up in an unnatural way when you said, “why, of course I don’t. Anyway, it’s time to head home now.” Just as how you could read his lies, he could also see through your facade, and he cursed Shiu under his breath as he responded, “alright.”

He fucked up. No, really, he fucked up big this time, and both of you knew. He didn’t know Shiu would be so vocal when drunk, and he also didn’t expect him to remember what he said. It’s not his fault now is it? If anything, it’s partly shiu’s as well, since he asked how your relationship was progressing and teased him about subbing for you. He got provocative, he was basically forced to lie about it!

That’s why it’s so unfair that he’s the only one getting punished, why’s he always getting the shorter end of the stick? Stripped naked with his arms tied behind his back, a raging boner standing proud between his legs as he kneeled before you. Whenever he gazed up to meet your eyes, you stared down at him coldly, making him squirm in painful delight.

“Even under such circumstances you can still think of other things?” You tapped his cheek with your foot, arms crossed over your chest. “No I-” “shut it, Toji, dogs don’t talk.” His brows furrowed and he pressed his lips into a thin line. “I can think of many reasons why you did that, but it doesn’t make me any less angry.” Now you placed your foot on his thighs, and stared down. “You know this is a punishment, try your best.”

Before he got time to prepare himself, you stepped down on his dick, pressing it against his pelvis. The sticky liquid stuck to his lower abdomen like glue. “Ah- uuh, urghHh..! Wai-” he quickly stopped himself and bit his bottom lip, he couldn’t afford to make mistakes now. “Was I too lenient with you?” Despite your choice of words, you weren’t talking to him and neither did you want him to answer. “So much that the dog forgot who’s the master and went around barking at people?”

Ah damn it, if you were going to degrade him with that fierce look in your eyes, all while teasing him like this, he wont be able to last. His sex twitched underneath you, and he struggled against the ropes. You could see the tips of his teeth biting his lips until it bled, or how his muscles were tensing up in response to your actions. His skin was glistening from his sweat, and his cheeks were blushing like crazy. “Filthy beast. I didn’t think you’d enjoy your punishment this much.” Then you pressed down harder, causing him to melt, to drown in ecstasy.

“UrggHhh..! Ah f-fuck…” he moaned and cursed, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt himself getting close, god he was withering. It was truly humiliating how much he loved this, the pain, the pleasure and the intensity of the moment. Really, he was so close, but how was he going to warn you when he wasn’t allowed to speak? “Nghh…! Hmm-mhm..? AhhHHhh～♡♥︎♡!!” Without warning, you rubbed his tip with your toes, enough until it was completely covered in his precum.

Once you were content, you pulled back and wiped your foot against his chest, right before he got to cum. “Argh- ah, ahh.. y-y/n..!” This time he couldn’t stop himself from calling your name. Head thrown upwards, eyes glassy as his saliva dropped down the corner of his mouth all the way to his chin. He was so confused, why did you stop? But the second he saw the look on your face, he knew the answer to his question.

“That reminds me, since I’m apparently the sub, I shouldn’t be doing these kind of stuff with you.” You snarled with a wide, sharp grin. “No- wait, I, I’m sorry okay? Just- let me cum.” He hastily yelled, squirming around and shaking with the desire for release. “No can’t do, I’m afraid I don’t know how?” The sound of your giggles rang in his mind. Afterwards, he wanted to protest again, but you just climbed into the bed and yawned, “anyway, I’ll go to bed first. Don’t wake me, alright my dear puppy?”

Even though it was formulated into a question, he knew very well it was a command. And he also knew, he had no way out of this. “Urgh- shit..” he groaned, trying to move away from his spot but failing to do so. This was the punishment you’ve planned from the very beginning huh? With a trembling and somewhat desperate voice, he whimpered, “I understand… sleep well, master.”

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 8

When John opens his eyes it is to a ceiling. That is his first indicator that something had truly changed.

He remembered bits of his last few weeks. His men had found him and pulled him from a gulag, an outdoor prison in northern Siberia. He had lost a lot of weight to simply keep warm enough to move breath. Turning his head with aching slowness he found the other side of your bed rumpled and still releasing heat.

“I’ve got him. I’m sorry I didn’t see your calls last night. John was at the door knocking and once I got him settled I couldn’t spare a thought for my phone.” Your voice shifts as if you are pacing in the hall. “Can you bring by some clothes and his toiletries?”

John rolls enough to rest his head where your smell remains the strongest, listening to you and his muppets plan on how to care for him while he heals. John knew he would need time to heal from this.

“When you get here can you stay long enough to help me get him washed up? I know he will feel more human with a little care.” A pause as you listen to whoever is on the other side of the line. “Yeah, I will ask him. See you soon.”

He would smile if his cheeks could contract with his face on the mattress. John had decided in Siberia that if you would have him he would marry you the moment he could stand for longer than ten minutes without needing a rest. You had mumbled to him in your sleep when your eyes could no longer stay open last night. Resting on your chest he felt the most tethered to his body and this planet he had since he had been taken.

The door opens on silent hinges. You find him instantly with his face pressed into the mattress. He hears you moving but doesn’t shift yet, waiting to see how you would react. Two fingers touched his pinky. As that had not been what he expected John pushed up with one arm to look at you.

Kneeling by the bed, chin resting on the edge you watched him.

When he caught your gaze you smiled at him so gently he felt a knot of emotion loosen ever so slightly in his chest.

“Hi, John. Can you stand?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded damaged even to his ears.

“Alright, let’s go brush your teeth then and get you some breakfast. One of your guys will be coming over soon with clothes and to help you in the shower. I have just two questions for you about all of this okay?”

John braces for a question that will turn over pain, memories wriggling like worms in the warmer soil of home.

“First question, do you want eggs, bacon, and toast or oatmeal for breakfast?”

He blinked at you. The words should have all made sense in that order but they didn’t. You wanted to know what he wanted to eat?

“Oatmeal,” he creaked.

“Wonderful, I have fresh fruit and jams and syrups. Now second question.”

He braced again.

“Your Lieutenants would like to know how you got off base. Can you tell me?” You look at him with such concern, as if you were worried he did something that might hurt him further.

The broken laugh hurt his throat. It caused his chest to ache with unshed tears as well. You rubbed a hand over his wild hair as his laughs morphed into tears. When he had cried himself out, a wet spot on your bed and your eyes glistening as well he told you.

“I got to my desk, pulled out my emergency cash, and walked out.”

“You just walked out?” The incredulous look you give him warms him. Even frostbitten and thin you stare at him as if he could hang the stars for you.

“Yeah, waved by to the guards as I passed and waited for my cab.”

You stood on your knees pressing your forehead to his.

“I’m so glad you made it back to me,” you whispered, a single tear falling to his wet spot on the sheets.

“I fought,” he whispered back.

“And you made it. Now I won’t kiss you until you have clean teeth.” You send him a big, bright smile. “Up you pop. If you’re stable on your feet I will leave you in the bathroom and get our oatmeal started.”

To his chagrin, John was stable on his feet. He didn’t trust himself to not actually fall over if he faked it so he let you lead him to the closed lid of the toilet seat, hand him a new toothbrush, and slid from his view. The comforting sounds from the kitchen slid through the space. With his mouth clean he did feel more human like you said he would. Keeping a hand on a wall John made his way into your eat-in kitchen, the bright space warmed him from the inside out with bright colors and thriving plants on the counter.

The instant you heard him you turned and pulled him into your arms. You feel like home. He holds you until the oatmeal begins to bubble. Twisting in his arms you turn off the stove and try to move to get some bowls.

“John. You need a shower, one of your guys will be here soon to help you wash. You are already shaking. Go and sit down.”

He takes the command, getting a small thrill of you telling him what to do. You serve him up as much as he will eat and by the time Roach arrives, John is falling asleep at the table. He gives John a gentle hand and helps him in and out of the tub leaving John feeling cleaner than even the time his grandmother had washed him and stripped a layer of skin from him. Roach settles him into bed with only a pair of boxers, John’s preference of sleeping wear when given the chance and John is asleep before he is fully covered with the blankets.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

That’s how your relationship officially starts with John you think, with him sinking into your bed in the middle of the night after escaping unspeakable horrors. He recovers day by day. His men visit and often spend the night on the couch. They loved him and wanted to see for themselves that he had put on weight and started smiling again.

The day he went back to work again he came home early to take you on a proper date. He wore his Christmas suit and you wore your New Year’s dress. John told you he had informed all of his muppets to stay away tonight, and that he would shoot anyone who tried to crash your date.

You weren’t worried. You were almost positive that he wouldn’t shoot to kill. But you had also gone ahead and texted the guys that if any of them appeared at your flat tonight then you would personally take in all of their pants a centimeter at a time until they busted through seams like the Kool-Aid man through a wall. They had all gotten the message.

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

[theywantedplayer]

Master list

PromptList

AN-this is longer than what I usually do I hope yall fuck with it since I haven't been writing lots bc I got exams in 2 weeks fm

You started noticing Nico acting differently—not just on the ice but also when it was just the two of you at home. He always had a nurturing attitude, which his teammates liked to tease him about by calling him "Mother Nico." He was always a caring and intuitive guy, picking up around the apartment even though you knew he had a stressful schedule during the NHL season.

He handled it all well, balancing everything quite skillfully. You’d often hear stories from your friends who were dating other players on the team about how their boyfriends always prioritized hockey, but Nico wasn’t like that.

Then, around the winter months, things started to change. He seemed slower, quieter, and less talkative like a dark cloud constantly hung over him. The Devils weren’t performing as well in the standings as usual, and Nico took it personally as the captain. He acted like the team’s struggles were entirely his fault, carrying the weight of it on his shoulders.

Nico had always been your rock. He let you talk to him about anything that was bothering you, offering a listening ear and unwavering support. But as the winter months set in, you started to realize that the dynamic only seemed to go one way. You could sense something was troubling him, but he never opened up about it.

Little things began to slip. He forgot whose turn it was to make dinner, skipped doing the laundry, or left the dishes undone—things he’d always been on top of. At first, you didn’t mind picking up the extra load, understanding how stressful the season must have been for him. But as October came, you decided it was time to bring it up. You never expected his reaction.

"I’ve noticed you’ve been off, and I’m worried about you," you finally said, folding laundry on the dining room table. Your voice was calm but firm, wanting to make your concern seen.

"What makes you say that?" he replied, his gaze fixed on the TV.

Your eyes flickered between him and the screen. He was watching SportsCenter, listening to reporters make critical and unsupportive remarks about the Devils' performance. It was clear their words had struck a nerve

“Well, you haven’t been picking up around the house lately, and you’ve just been quieter. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” you said as you folded his t-shirts.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind picking up more around the house. You’d always told Nico he didn’t need to do as much as he did, but he always insisted. Still, as you tried to talk to him, it felt like walking on landmines. He was so quiet, and you were afraid he might explode at any moment.

“Seriously?” he said coldly, finally turning his head toward you.

“You know I don’t have a problem with you not doing housework. You just haven’t been yourself lately,” you said, trying to keep your tone gentle. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“If you don’t have a fucking problem with it, then why are you bringing it up?” he snapped, his tone ice-cold.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You could feel where this conversation was headed. Setting down the hoodie you’d been folding, you rested your hands on the table and turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, and that familiar resting bitch face of his—the one that intimidated people who didn’t know him—made you hesitate for just a moment. You knew it wasn’t truly who Nico was, but even now, it unsettled you just a little. Seeing someone who was always the sweetest and more caring one in the room suddenly has the face of one who at first glance didn't seem like it was a shock, but you always knew your boyfriend and knew that wasn't true.

“Nico, I’m not trying to start anything,” you said softly. “I just know something’s wrong, and you won’t even fucking talk to me about it.” you regretted the swear as soon as it left your mouth knowing it seemed like a push to him.

“Because I don’t need to,” he stated flatly.

You sighed again, frustration and worry bubbling inside you. Nico was the guy who always told everyone else they could talk to him, but he never talked to anyone about his stuff even rarely at times with you.

“Well, I think you do,” you said, your voice firmer this time as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t trying to start a fight, but you couldn’t let this slide. “I think talking about it would really help. You’ve been so quick to anger lately, so quiet, and I’m worried about you. You can talk to me. Why do you feel like you can’t?”

You noticed the slight clench of his jaw before he responded. “I have a lot of shit going on. I’m sorry if I’m not picking up around the house anymore. Just leave it alone,” he said, his tone laced with annoyance. “Just leave me alone.”

With that, he turned his body and full attention back to the TV. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he turned up the volume at the same time. Whether it was intentional or not, it sent a clear message: he wasn’t continuing this conversation. And as much as you knew it needed to happen, you didn’t have the energy to force it either.

About a month later, near the end of November, you could tell things had only gotten worse. The Devils were in the middle of a six-game losing streak, and it was eating at Nico. The frustration came to a head after a particularly brutal loss—shut out by Vegas, 5–0.

The walk back to the car was painfully silent. The only words Nico said as he handed you the keys were, “You drive.”

You nodded wordlessly, slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the car. The drive home, which should’ve been 20 minutes, stretched to nearly 45 because of post-game traffic. Normally, after a tough game like this, Nico would vent to you—sharing ideas for new plays or strategies to motivate the team. But tonight, he sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the sea of brake lights in front of you.

At every red light, you glanced over at him, silently checking in. He didn’t say a word, but you could see the storm brewing in his mind. This wasn’t just a bad game or a bad week; it was months of mounting pressure. He wasn’t himself anymore, and you knew he was close to breaking.

When you finally pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building, you turned off the car and opened your door. “Come on, Nic, let’s just go to bed,” you said gently, stepping out.

You expected to hear the passenger door open, but instead, there was silence. Turning back, you saw him still sitting there, unmoving. His hand hadn’t even reached for the door handle. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

You walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, crouching down slightly to meet his eye line. “Nico,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern. “Let’s go inside.”

You could see it—the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for months. The pressure, the expectations, the emotions he refused to show. He was on the verge of breaking, and you just wanted to help him before he shattered completely.

He was too prideful.

But still, you were met with silence. You reached out and softly grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. You tried to pull him out of the car, but he pulled his hand back, holding yours tightly in both of his. He stared down at your hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. You sat there, unsure of what to say, just trying to comfort him in the smallest way possible. In two years of dating, you’d only ever seen Nico shut down like this once before—after the Devils' playoff run in 2023.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “What the fuck is going on?”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you, to himself, or to no one at all. His voice wavered, trying to hide the emotion threatening to break through. It pained you—he’d seen you cry countless times, about everything from stress to happiness, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let you see him like this.

“I know it’s tough,” you said softly, squeezing his hand again.

“It’s more than just fucking tough,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “We’ve been playing like shit, and there’s nothing I can do. The reporters are tearing us apart, and I have no idea how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know what the fuck to do!”

His voice cracked, but he kept going, the dam finally breaking.

“In the locker room, on the ice—everyone looks at me like I have all the answers. Like I’m supposed to solve all our fucking problems. But I don’t. What kind of captain can’t even fix his team?”

“It’s not your job to fix your team,” you said plainly, your voice steady.

For the first time since the game, he looked up at you, and your heart broke at the sight. His big brown eyes glistened, tears pooling just at the edge, threatening to spill over.

“I’m the captain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “It is my job. It’s my responsibility to keep the team together, to make sure we don’t fall into shit like this.” His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, and he shook his head, as if rejecting your words outright.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” you said gently. “You’ve been doing that for years.”

“Pressure?” he scoffed bitterly. “If it’s not me putting it on, it’s everyone else.”

Your expression softened, and you brought your other hand up to run your fingers through his damp hair. “If you’re the one putting it on yourself, then you can also take it off,” you said quietly. “I’m right here, Nico. I’ve been telling you that since the day we met. If you’re feeling anything—everything—you can talk to me.”

He shook his head again, looking up at you with so much guilt it made your chest ache. “I can’t do that to you. You’ve got enough going on with school and exams. I can’t be one more thing.”

“That’s bullshit,” you said, sighing. “I love you. Nothing is more important to me than you. Keeping all this bottled up is only making it worse, Nico. You need to let it out. Talk to me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes softened as you wiped away a single tear that slipped down his cheek.

“But I’m the captain. People are supposed to look up to me and lean on me. It’s my job to take care of everyone else,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, and it’s my job to take care of you,” you said firmly. “I knew what I was signing up for when we got together. Dating a pro athlete comes with challenges that most people don’t face, and I knew it’d be hard sometimes. But Nico, you make it so easy to love you. The only thing that makes this hard is that you don’t talk to me when you’re struggling. I want to be your rock, too. I want you to come to me, vent for hours if you need to, cry if you need to. I just want to help you.”

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and his voice cracked as he said, “I feel like I have to hold it together all the time. Half the time, I’m not. If we’re losing, I feel like it’s my fault. If I can’t lead us to a win, what kind of captain does that make me?”

“You’re playing fucking hockey, Nico,” you said bluntly. “You’ve been doing this your whole life. You know what you’re doing, and you know what your team needs. But it’s not your job to fix everything. They’re grown men with their own shit going on. The best thing you can do is be there for them, support them. But you can’t carry the whole team on your back.”

A bitter laugh left his lips. “Everyone thinks we’re a shit team right now. We’re getting blown out almost every game.”

You smiled softly, glad to see the tension beginning to leave his shoulders as he let everything out. “Don’t you think Quinn felt like that, too?” you asked.

His brows furrowed in surprise at the mention of his friend's brother.

“He’s captain of the Canucks. They were a mess for years but look at them now. They’ve turned it around. People respect them because they fought through it. You will, too. You’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this. Why don't you try and talk to him about this, Quinn's a really helpful guy he's helping me so much, growing up he was the first person I'd go to"

Nico knew your history with the Hughes you guys grew up together and spent nights at the lake house together, even though Nico didn't know Quinn as well as he knew his energetic little brother, Jack,  he could tell from the few times that they've met that he was a great guy to go to for advice.  He honestly really liked Quinn,  one time during the summer during the off-season the Hughes family invited you and Nico to spend a couple weeks at the lake house with the original group. Being Cole, Trevor the Hughes brothers, and some other buddies from Michigan, Nico was a little nervous about going since he only really knew Jack, Luke and You but Quinn and Nico honestly gravitated towards each other and got along quite well, he introduced Nico to the rest of the group and everyone hit it off from there on.

and during one of those nights at the lake house he and the eldest brother were sitting out by the fire when everyone was inside they ended up having generally deep talk and confided in each other about being captains of a team at a very young age. At the time Nico barely knew Quinn this was really the first time he was actually able to sit down and fully get to know the young defenseman but still he talked to him knowing they shared the same worries and since then they've always kept in contact.

Everyone always loved it when New Jersey played Vancouver because they called it the "Hughe's Bowl" since the three brothers were playing on the same ice against each other for the first time in a long time. Nico always looked forward to that since usually after those games if Vancouver wasn't heading back that night Nico and the three brothers would go out and always get a beer together. 

 Nico could slightly feel his face heat up with embarrassment. not about opening up but about not doing it sooner.  he loved you and he knew you always wanted the best for him so he just felt stupid for not realizing that sooner and trusting someone with his problems but it wasn't just somebody it was you 

He was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a deep laugh. You blinked in surprise at the sudden shift, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m an idiot,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been sitting on this for months, and after less than ten minutes of talking to you, I already feel better. No wonder you were pushing me to open up.”

You laughed with him, relief washing over you as he climbed out of the car and pulled you into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your skin, holding you close.

You hugged him just as tightly, feeling the warmth radiating from his body after the game. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Nico. And I need you to know you can always talk to me about anything.”

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own still glistening but now softer. He just saw you prove that too. him but he really needed to hear you say it. He kissed you gently, then rested his chin on your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m fucking tired.”