#when he dedicated so much of his time to his work

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel never meant to let you get under his skin, but you did—slowly, quietly, until you were all he could think about. When you go missing on patrol, the months of keeping his distance end in an instant. Finding you hurt, vulnerable, waiting for him— he finally stops fighting what was inevitable.

babes idk this has been plaguing me all damn day okay? angsty, grumpy, eventually fluffy Joel Miller. im all about the drama today I've been getting a lot of requests about Joel tending to reader on a patrol gone wrong / Jackson!Joel so here is a whole one shot dedicated to all of you ♥︎

When Joel Miller came back to Jackson after taking Ellie from that hospital, he was on edge. Always on edge. The bags under his eyes darkened by the day, deep-set proof of sleepless nights spent tangled in sweat-drenched sheets, jolting awake from nightmares that left him breathless and clawing at the past. So he worked. Took on more patrols, fixed fences, chopped wood—kept his hands busy, his mind busier. If he let up, even for a second, the memories crept in like rot in the walls. That way when his head hit the pillow at night, he was too exhausted for dreams.

Then spring came, and with it, something new. Something warm. Something bright.

You.

He didn’t know where the hell you came from at first. Just that Tommy had dragged you in, half-dead and shaking, after your group got torn apart by Infected out near the old hunting cabins. He heard about it once Tommy could stomach telling the story—another tragedy, more unknown lives lost—but you? You survived.

And now he hardly recognized you as that scared, bloody thing they found in the snow. You were—Jesus—you were everywhere. Helping in the garden, stacking supplies, chattering with the old folks who baked you fresh bread or cookies because they liked how sweet you were. It was annoying. Distracting. You were too...bright. Too alive. Too much of a reminder of something he shouldn’t want. He didn’t even want to know your name, but it found him anyway.

“She wants to start helping on patrols,” Tommy said casually, slicing into his steak one Sunday night over dinner. Maria nodded, considering.

“We could always put her with—”

No. It was all Joel could think. Not you, not out there in the wilderness again. There was so much shit out there, you’d faced enough. Couldn't you just stay here, safe?

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “No?” he echoed, a little amused, a little suspicious.

Joel clenched his jaw, shoving another bite of food in his mouth, chewing slow to buy himself time as he realized he must’ve said it out loud. His throat went dry as he forced himself to swallow.

Joel forced a grunt, waved a hand vaguely. “Just think she’s too young to be goin’ out there. Didn’t she just get here?”

“She’s older than Ellie,” Tommy pointed out, spearing a potato on his fork. “And Ellie’s out there right now, you know that.”

Joel’s fingers curled tight around his knife. Yeah, he knew. Ellie was out on her first real two-day patrol, and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours half-sick over it. His eyes flickered to her empty seat, and he sent up a silent prayer that she was still safe.

“Well,” Tommy continued, oblivious, “I’m plannin’ on buddyin’ her up with one of my best guys. Jesse can take her. Shouldn’t be an issue. He’s quick on his feet, got a good eye.”

Jesse. Joel barely held back a sneer. The kid was fine, sure. But Jesse wasn’t the issue.

You were.

Joel sipped his shitty, lukewarm coffee from a chipped mug, scowling at how diluted it was as it settled on his tongue. He missed real coffee. Hated that he had to drink this watered-down bullshit. The only thing worse was the sharp knock at his door.

His jaw clenched.

With a heavy sigh, he set down the mug, already annoyed, and stomped over. If this was Tommy with more goddamn chores or Maria with another lecture about community responsibility, he was gonna—

Joel yanked the door open, glare already in place. But then he saw you, and his stomach dropped.

You stood there, a little breathless, strands of hair falling loose around your face despite how you’d tied it back. Morning sun caught on your skin, the warm glow of sweat making you look… Fuck. His grip tightened on the doorframe.

"Oh–Hi," you said, a little uncertain, shifting on your feet.

Joel just stared.

He hadn’t spoken to you. Not once. Hadn’t let himself. You were too damn…well, whatever you were, whatever part of him that couldn’t quite place what you did to him…he wanted no part of it. But now you were standing at his door, looking at him with those bright, wide eyes, and he felt like a teenage boy again.

His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a hard line. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He had no clue what the hell to even say.

Your blush deepened under his stare. "Um," you murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Ellie told me to come grab her before I left for patrol. First time and all." A nervous laugh puffed out of you, light and breathy. "She said she keeps a map of the area—marked with all the bad spots. Ya know."

Joel blinked. His brain finally caught up.

Patrol.

Your patrol.

His jaw ticked. So Tommy still had you paired with Jessie then?

"Ellie," Joel called behind him, finally tearing his gaze from you.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs before Ellie appeared, still in her pajamas, rubbing at her eye with the heel of her hand.

"Hey!" she called when she met your gaze, brightening.

Joel grumbled something low and incoherent, something that excused him as he turned on his heel and headed back toward the kitchen. He didn’t dare look at you again. But he felt your eyes on him. Questioning. Curious.

He hated it.

You were in his house.

Moving around upstairs. Talking to Ellie. When the hell had you two become friends? Your voice filtered down, mixing with the soft creak of the floorboards, and Joel stood in the kitchen, fuming.

He shouldn’t care.

Shouldn’t give a shit about where Tommy had you stationed, who you were paired with, how ready you were or weren’t for the outside. It wasn’t his goddamn business. But the thought of you out there—stumbling into an ambush, stepping too loud in a place you shouldn’t, a clicker lurking just out of sight, waiting for one wrong move—made his chest tighten in a way he really didn’t like.

He braced a hand on the counter, fingers drumming against the wood.

A few minutes later, your footsteps padded back down as Joel was heading out the door for his own chores. He didn’t turn, didn’t move as you crossed through the house. Just as you made your way past him, your flowery scent, so feminine and light and soft—

"Bye, Joel."

Your voice was light. Casual. Like it was nothing. Like saying his name didn’t do anything.

But it did.

His body went rigid, like something had yanked him back into himself, back into that dark and tangled place in his head where things got real complicated real quick. His name in your mouth, soft and easy, made his skin prickle, made something heavy settle deep in his chest. It stuck to him like a damn burr, taking place and nestling tight in his mind. His name on your lips was like a song, something like a siren’s call made specifically for him. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

He was so fucked.

Joel spent the day trying not to think about you.

And managed to do a shit job of it.

His hands worked—fixing a busted stable door, making sure the latch held, leading the horses out into the pasture on the warmest day so far—but his mind stayed locked on one thing. Had you made it to the outpost? Was the trip quiet? Had Jesse kept you close? Had he been watching your back?

It was pissing him off, all this worrying about someone he barely even knew.

Joel huffed, trying to shake the gnawing in his chest. He just needed to get through the work. Keep his head down, get home, and sleep it off.

Then he saw Jesse.

The kid was near the stables, talking to Dina, grinning like he didn’t have a single worry in the goddamn world. Joel’s brow furrowed. His steps slowed as he stared, confusion creeping in. Jesse was back? Already? That didn’t make sense. It had only been half a day. Patrols didn’t wrap this early, not unless something had happened.

For a moment, he almost convinced himself he was grateful that the hours had passed without sight of you. Maybe that meant his mind was finally loosening the barb you’d stuck in him. Maybe, after today, he wouldn’t waste any more time thinking about you.

But that was a damn lie.

Because hadn’t he thought of you every single hour since you left his house this morning? Hadn’t his eyes kept tracking the road, half-expecting you to appear? Hadn’t he been waiting—hoping—for some confirmation that you were fine, that patrol had been canceled, that you had never even needed to go in the first place?

Something was wrong. He felt it.

His jaw clenched. “Jesse.”

The kid turned, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey, Mr. Miller. What’s up?”

Joel frowned, eyes narrowing. “You’re already back?”

Jesse tilted his head, looking confused. “Uh… yeah?”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, patience wearing thin. His fingers twitched at his side, a slow, creeping sense of unease taking root in his chest. “Patrols don’t usually wrap this early.”

Jesse blinked, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, right—yeah, I didn’t go. Switched last minute, said it was some schedule mix-up.”

Joel barely heard the rest of the explanation.

I didn’t go.

The words hammered around his skull, his stomach twisting. You hadn’t been with Jesse.

You’d been out there—out in those woods—this whole time without one of the few people in this place who could actually handle themselves.

His fingers twitched at his side, curling and uncurling. His breathing stayed slow, even, controlled—but that was only because every part of him was focusing on not snapping. “Who’d you switch with?” His voice came out too sharp, too flat, but he didn’t care.

Jesse shrugged, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind Joel’s eyes. “Uh… can’t remember his name. New guy. Kinda scrawny, blond—”

Joel didn’t need to hear any more.

He knew exactly who Jesse was talking about.

Fucking Caleb.

Barely twenty. Couldn’t shoot for shit. Slow on his feet. Jumpy. The kind of kid who hesitated. And Joel had seen firsthand what hesitation got people. It got them killed.

His vision went red. You. Out there. With some stupid kid.

His pulse was a dull, thudding roar in his ears. He should’ve put his foot down with Tommy. Should’ve stopped you from leaving his house this morning. You might've thought he was insane, maybe even hated him for it. But he had known it was a bad idea. He felt it in his gut. And now you were out in the goddamn wilderness with someone who barely knew his left from his right, and there wasn’t a damn thing Joel could do about it.

His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths. His hands curled into fists.

Dina and Jesse went back to talking, still existing like everything was fine, like nothing had shifted, like nothing had gone wrong.

But Joel was already moving.

He needed his gun, he needed a horse.

And he needed to get to you—now.

Joel stormed toward the gates, his blood hot in his veins, fists clenched so tight his knuckles ached. The second he spotted Tommy, standing near the watch post, chatting with one of the patrol leads, he nearly exploded.

"What the hell were you thinkin’?" Joel’s voice came sharp, cutting through the quiet.

Tommy turned, brow furrowing. "What?"

"You sent that girl out with Caleb for her first patrol?" Joel seethed, stepping closer, his frame tense, his breath coming out hard and fast. "Are you kidding me? You said she was goin’ with Jesse, and I just saw him at the barn."

Tommy’s face darkened. "I didn’t do that."

Joel let out a harsh, humorless laugh, his hands going to his hips like he was physically holding himself back from breaking something, “That so? So why is Jesse tellin’ me you did?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "No, Joel, I wouldn’t send two damn novices out together. They must’ve switched last minute and didn’t tell anybody."

Joel’s jaw locked. That answer didn’t make him feel any better.

"Christ," Tommy muttered, shaking his head. "Look, we’ll deal with it when they get back—"

"Deal with it?" Joel barked. "If they get back, Tommy. That dumbass kid don’t know his left from his right. He hesitates, he panics—she’s out there alone."

Tommy held up a hand, voice leveling. "Joel. Just wait. We don’t even—"

"RIDERLESS HORSE COMING IN!"

The shout came from above.

Both brothers whipped their heads toward the gate as someone from the watchtower pointed out toward the open plains.

Joel’s stomach plummeted. Every muscle in his body went tight as the gallop of hooves thundered against the dirt, stirrups flapping madly at its sides, the dark blur of a horse sprinting toward the gates.

"Shit," Tommy muttered, already waving for them to get it open. "Whose is it?"

The guard peered over the ledge, adjusting his scope. "Looks like… it’s Eclipse. Who took him out today?"

The world dropped out from under Joel’s feet. The barn door he was working on, it was that horse. He saw your name on the check out clipboard by his stall. No, no no. This was all some sick nightmare he was in. 

Tommy’s eyes went wide as he looked at Joel, all the color draining from his face.

The sound of his own breath—too loud, too ragged—roared in his ears. That was your horse. Your only goddamn way back. And now it was here. Without you.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. His feet were already moving, shoving past Tommy, heading straight for the stables.

"Joel—"

He ignored Tommy, grabbing his saddle, moving with a purpose that wouldn’t be stopped. Strapped on his rifle as he checked it out at the booth, barely sparing a glance at the patrol guard logging the weapons. His hands worked fast, quicker than they had in a long time, muscle memory kicking in as he moved on autopilot.

He made his way straight to his usual horse, Diablo, getting him tacked up in record speed. The gelding shifted under his hands, picking up on the tight, coiled tension radiating off of him. Joel didn’t ease him. Didn’t whisper the usual steadying words, consumed only with thoughts of where you could be.

"Joel, dammit—think about this," Tommy’s voice rang out behind him, stepping up into the stall, frustration biting at the edges of his words. "You can’t just go out there alone. We’ll send a group—"

"Don’t have time," Joel muttered, cinching the saddle tight.

"You don’t even know what happened—"

"Exactly."

Joel’s voice came sharp, bitter, final. He turned, finally looking at Tommy, and his brother must’ve seen something in his face—something dark, something unmoving—because whatever argument he was about to make died on his tongue.

Joel led the horse out of the stables quickly, boots heavy against the dirt. Diablo tossed his head, nostrils flaring, sensing the shift in him. Once they were outside, Joel hoisted himself into the saddle in one swift motion, gathering the reins, already angling the horse toward the gates.

"Joel, for fuck’s sake—"

"Open the gate."

His voice was low, commanding.

The men guarding the post hesitated, glancing at each other, then at Tommy.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Joel’s jaw ticked, grip tightening. "Open the damn gate!" he snapped, his voice a sharp crack of thunder, booming across the yard. Diablo snorted beneath him, ears pinning back as his hooves shifted nervously in the dirt.

Still, no one made a move. Joel’s patience snapped.

He swung his glare back to Tommy, voice low, dangerous. "You can stay here and play it safe, but I’m going."

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath. But he gave a quick nod to the men at the gate.

The locks disengaged. The doors groaned.

Joel didn’t wait.

The second the opening was wide enough, he kicked his heels in, sending Diablo into a hard gallop, tearing out into the open.

He didn’t care what Tommy had to say.

Didn’t care that he was riding into the unknown, alone.

Didn’t care that this wasn’t his fight.

He didn’t care that he hardly knew you.

Because he did know you, after all.

You were light and soft and gentle in a world that hardened even the best of souls. You smiled at people when they spoke to you, laughed easily, touched others when you talked—little brushes of your fingers over an arm, a squeeze to a shoulder, things Joel wasn’t used to seeing anymore. You had no reason to be kind, no reason to be so goddamn good, and yet, you were.

And now the world had you.

It didn’t matter that he’d never spoken to you, that he had tried so damn hard to keep his distance. He had stayed away, convinced himself it was better that way, easier. But that hadn’t stopped you from getting into his head, hadn’t stopped you from settling into the places he didn’t have room for you, hadn’t stopped his chest from tightening all goddamn day wondering if you were still breathing.

Because he knew what was out there.

He knew what waited in the trees, in the shadows, in the abandoned places people never came back from. He knew how quickly a routine patrol could turn into a massacre, how easy it was to be there one second and gone the next. He knew how fast infected could pop up from the dark, how quickly a gun barrel could press against a skull, how little it took for someone like you to disappear forever.

And if that happened—if he found you out there, lifeless and cold—Joel didn’t know what the hell he’d do.

Joel spotted the outpost cabin up ahead, barely visible through the dense green of the trees, its frame old and weather-worn. A lone horse stood tied outside, shifting restlessly. As he rode closer, his eyes flicked to the J brand on its croup. Caleb’s.

His stomach twisted.

He swung off Diablo without thinking, barely registering his own movements as he tied the reins to the nearest branch. His heart was hammering, his breath coming hard and fast, sweat slicking the back of his neck as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

His heart launched into his throat when he first saw you. You were slightly slumped against the wall, your fingers curled tenderly around your leg, face pale.

Joel could barely breathe. His body moved quickly, crossing the space in seconds. You were alive, you were alive. Everything was fine.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but then something in your face softened—relief, gratitude. "Joel?"

His throat was dry. "What happened?" His voice came rough, low, sharp with something too close to panic.

Your lips parted like you weren’t sure if you were hearing him right. This was the first time he had ever spoken to you—really spoken to you—but right now, none of that mattered.

You exhaled shakily. "Eclipse spooked at something. Threw me off. I-I landed wrong." You grimaced, shifting slightly as you gripped your leg. "I think it’s broken.”

Joel’s chest went tight. Broke your leg. Out here. With no way back.

The scenario was too damn close to something worse, and he hated how easily his brain filled in the gaps. If you hadn’t made it to the outpost…if you’d landed just a little worse. Where the hell was your supposed patrol partner and why wasn’t he taking you back to Jackson?

"How long you been here?" His voice was clipped, his hands already moving, pushing back the fabric of your pants to see the damage.

"Couple hours," you murmured, watching him. "We managed to get here, checked the logbook like we were told to. I didn’t know what else to do."

Joel’s jaw flexed. You were trying to be strong. He could see it in the way you held yourself, in the way you downplayed the situation, like you weren’t sitting here with a broken goddamn leg and no real protection.

Before he could say anything else, footsteps sounded at the doorway.

Caleb.

Joel looked up, and something in him snapped.

The kid had the nerve to look relieved. "Oh—Joel, you found us."

Joel was already on his feet, moving. He shoved the kid—hard.

Caleb stumbled back, barely catching himself against the doorframe. "H-hey—!"

"The hell were you doin' leaving her here?," Joel seethed, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous. "You left her here hurt and alone while you what? Sat on your ass?"

Caleb swallowed hard, eyes flickering between him and you. "I didn’t—I didn’t leave, I was out checking the perimeter—"

"Checking the perimeter?" Joel’s breath came sharp, bitter. "She’s got a broken goddamn leg. What the hell were you gonna do if something came through that door? If infected caught her like this? Why didn’t you turn back and take her home?!”

Caleb’s face flushed, his mouth opening like he wanted to argue, but Joel was already done listening.

"Get back to Jackson." He shoved the kid toward the door again, barely resisting the urge to do worse. "Tell ‘em she’s alive. Tell ‘em we’ll be back once I've patched her up.” Joel leaned in, voice dropping into something dangerous. "I’ll deal with you later."

Caleb hesitated, like he wanted to say something, but one more look at Joel’s face must’ve changed his mind.

He left, the door shutting behind him, and only silence followed.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, still standing there, still furious, still running too hot, his hands clenched into fists.

“You didn’t need to be so hard on him,” you said softly from where you sat.

Joel’s scowl was back in full force as he turned toward you. "And you—" His voice came sharp, and that was when it hit him.

He was here. With you. Alone. And he was speaking to you for the first time. He had been so panicked when he walked in he barely noticed.  The words he was ready to lash at you to you weren’t kind, weren’t measured. They were biting. They came with anger and frustration and fear and all the shit he hadn’t let himself process on the ride over.

He scrubbed a rough hand down his face, trying to reel himself in. "What the hell were you thinkin’? Switching out Jesse from your crew? Ain’t this your first patrol?"

Your mouth parted slightly, caught off guard. "I didn’t—" you hesitated. "I didn’t think it was a big deal. Jesse misses Dina, they wanted to spend more time—"

"Jesus, girl," Joel muttered, shaking his head. "That shit don’t matter! He was supposed to watch you because this is your first time out here. You needed someone in charge. Someone who knows the way."

You scrunched your nose, a flicker of irritation sparking across your face. "We were doin’ just fine."

Joel let out a dry, humorless scoff. "Yeah, looks fine to me."

And then—he stopped himself.

The words sat between you both, heavy, cutting.

This wasn’t how this should go.

He didn’t want this to go like this. Didn’t want the first real conversation between you to be this snappy, this barbed. You’d just made him so goddamn angry with your irresponsibility, had scared him too damn bad, and now he was running his mouth like some short-tempered asshole.

He needed to breathe. He needed to calm down.

Joel took a slow breath, scratching his beard before crouching back down in front of you. His fingers were still twitching, his body still wired too tight, but he forced himself to focus.

"Let me see again," he muttered, voice still gruff, but quieter now.

Your eyes flickered over his face, searching, but you didn’t argue. You shifted slightly, biting down a wince as you let him push the fabric of your pants up further to assess the break.

Joel’s jaw ticked. It was swelling badly already, bruising and tender to the touch, but at least it was something that could be fixed. That he could fix.

"Don’t look too bad," he murmured, rolling his shoulders to shake off some of the tension.

"Really?" you huffed, shaking your head. "Cause it sure hurts."

Joel reached for his pack, pulling out what little medical supplies he had before scanning the cabin. "Just need to make a splint," he muttered.

His hands moved carefully, barely grazing you, barely touching you any more than he needed to. He worked in silence at first, securing the wood, wrapping the bandage around your leg in tight, practiced motions. You kept still, your breath catching here and there when he adjusted the angle, but otherwise, you didn’t complain.

And maybe that should have been his first sign.

Joel wasn’t sure when he noticed it—the way you were watching him, the way your fingers curled just slightly into the fabric of your pants, like you were bracing yourself for something more than just the pain in your leg.

He should have ignored it. Should have finished his work and moved on. 

But something about the way you stayed quiet, your lips pressed together like you were holding something back, made him pause.

"You’re quiet," he murmured, tying the last knot in place.

You blinked. "What?"

Joel smirked, just slightly. "Was expectin’ more complainin’. But you’re sittin’ awful still."

You swallowed, your eyes flicking away for just a second before you forced a small, breathless laugh. "Just tryin’ to be a good patient, I guess."

He could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. And for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing.

"That so?" His fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, grazing against the bandage before he pulled back. "You ain’t the nervous type, are ya?"

You let out a soft scoff, but your voice was quieter now. "No."

But you hesitated, and Joel noticed. He wasn’t supposed to like that. Wasn’t supposed to let it sit in his chest the way it did. But you did things to him, even from the very moment you’d arrived. You’d gotten under his skin in ways he hadn’t been prepared for, and even now, as he knelt beside you, his fingers still lingering over the bandage, he wondered—

He thought he’d been the one avoiding you at all costs. He thought he’d been keeping clear of the girl who was too bright and bushy-tailed, someone who was so different from him, so good. He thought he’d done a damn good job of steering clear, of making sure he was just another face in Jackson to you.

But now, looking at you—your cheeks tinged pink, your breath just a little uneven, your hands clenching and unclenching like you didn’t know what to do with them—his mind pulled back to the little things. The way you would duck out of his way every time too. The way, if he ever caught your eye across a room, your cheeks would flush, your fingers would twitch, and you’d excuse yourself just as quickly as he had. 

And when you had come to his house to find Ellie… You had been flustered then, just as uncertain as him, though he had been too wrapped up in his own damn head to see it. He’d been too focused on why the hell you were standing there in his doorway, too busy trying to tamp down the immediate, sharp pull in his chest that had threatened to unravel him the second he saw you in the morning light. He had been so sure he was the only one feeling it, so convinced he was the only one being rattled by your presence. 

But he remembered the way you had blushed under his stare, shifting on your feet, your voice softer than usual, your breath catching just slightly when he didn’t say anything right away.

Jesus. Had you felt it too? 

Had you been trying to stay away from him just as much as he had been trying to stay away from you?

Had it been there this whole time?

And if it had…

Then Joel didn’t stand a goddamn chance.

Something slow and warm uncurled in his chest, something dangerous that he swore he’d lost for forever. His fingers brushed against your knee as he adjusted the wrap, just the lightest graze, but it was enough to make you shift, to make you pull in a breath.

His throat very dry suddenly as he spoke, "Somethin’ wrong?" His voice was low, quiet.

You blinked, shaking your head too quickly. "No."

But you hesitated. Joel smirked. "No?"

You exhaled sharply, dropping your gaze. "Joel—"

His name in your mouth did something to him. Something deep and warm and dangerous.

"Hm?" he hummed in question, his voice quieter now, rougher at the edges.

You hesitated, shifting slightly under his touch again, your fingers tightening against the fabric of your pants before you finally looked up at him again. There was something in your eyes—uncertainty, hesitation, something else—and for a second, he almost thought you wouldn’t say it.

Then, softly, you whispered, "Why’d you come all the way out here?"

His chest went tight, his breath uneven. There were a hundred ways he could answer, a hundred ways he could try to explain what had driven him out here, why he had stormed out of Jackson without a second thought, why he had spent every damn second of the day thinking about whether you were still alive.

His fingers found yours, brushing over your knuckles before he took them, his touch hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if he had any business holding you like this. His grip was steady, warm, his thumb grazing over your skin in slow, careful circles—maybe to soothe you, maybe to soothe himself.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to just say it.

"I had to," he murmured.

And then, before he could stop himself, before he could think about how much of a fool he was making of himself if you pulled away, how out of his depth he was, he kissed your hand.

Your fingers were so soft, so small in his wide grip, his calloused palm swallowing yours as his lips pressed into your knuckles. His eyes stayed on you all the while, drinking in every shift, every reaction—how your pupils blew wide, how the flush crept hot across your cheeks, how your tongue darted out to wet your lips like you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

Joel didn’t move, didn’t let go, didn’t do a damn thing but hold you there, feel you there, his lips pressed against you like he had any right to be touching you like this.

Slowly and carefully, as if you didn’t want to startle him, you lifted your free hand. Your fingers brushed tentatively along his jaw, skimming through the rough patch of stubble on his cheek, tracing over the lines life had carved into him. You were watching him now, your eyes flickering down, settling on his lips.

Joel only released your knuckles from his lips when he felt your hand pulling him closer to you, and he let you. 

For once, after so many years of feeling like he needed to always be thinking of the next move, to be in control at every turn, his mind went quiet.

It was never quiet.

Not since the world had ended. Not since he’d lost everything. His thoughts had become a constant, grinding machine—always assessing, always calculating, always searching for the next threat, the next weak spot, the next thing that could go wrong. He had learned, too many times over, that the second you let your guard down, you paid for it in blood.

So he never let himself stop.

But now, you were touching him. So soft, so gentle, so careful. Your fingers running over his jaw like he was something worth handling carefully. Like you weren’t afraid of him.

And for the first time in years, that instinct—the one that told him to always be ready, to be hard, detached, sharp—just… stopped.

His mind went quiet.

And then your mouth found his.

The kiss was tentative at first, cautious, like neither of you wanted to be the one to break it, to admit this was happening. But then your fingers curled into the nape of his neck, your breath warm against his, and Joel—god help him—tipped his head and deepened it.

His hand found your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek, holding you there, steadying you like he needed to, like he had to.

And for the first time in a long, long time,

Joel let himself have something good.

[puck-luck]

Hi, girly. I hope I find you fine.

I'd like to make a request with Quinn. Could you write something where reader is feeling down, like after a day of dealing with friends/family drama and she is just drained, plus they are at the lake house and yk all the boys are there but she doesn't feel like having dinner or hanging out with them, she just wants to cuddle and recharge and Q just excuses himself to be with her and hopefully makes her feel better.

Thank you so much 💓

warnings: cockwarming. that's IT. other than that, it's just domestic bliss.

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1,229

note: thank you @skylershines for requesting this! sorry it took me a while to finish :,) this ask wasn't inherently sexual, but since i am a smut writer, i had to throw in a sexual element or two. i am not THE fluff girl on tumblr dot com LOL but love you girly

The boys are downstairs making a ruckus about something. You’re starting to wonder if they ever tire themselves out, or if they’re always full of energy like this. The day has been long and chock-full of activities and you’re… rather exhausted.

Maybe it’s because of all the sun you soaked up on the boat that’s making you sleepy. Maybe it’s the swimming you did or the wine with the big, filling, home-cooked meal that Quinn made. Maybe it’s from the flight from Vancouver to Michigan two days ago that’s making you so tired. Maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re working from home– Quinn’s home– tomorrow and you can’t dedicate all your time to the fun happenings in the vacation home.

All in all, you don’t know what the root of your exhaustion is, but you know that there’s no way you want to leave this bed again today. You’re due for a good rot. You’ve got a book in hand and you’re all tucked in beneath the covers and the fact that it’s only 7:30pm doesn’t matter to you one bit. The sun hasn’t even started to set, but here you are, ready for bed.

Between the lines in your book, you can piece together what the boys are talking about downstairs. Trevor wants a bonfire. Jack and Luke want to go wakesurfing. Alex doesn’t care, but he wants someone to make a decision. Cole wants to stay in and play ping pong. You’re secretly hoping that the fact that you can’t really hear your boyfriend arguing with his brothers and friends means that he’ll be coming upstairs to join you soon.

It isn’t long before you hear feetsteps padding up the stairs and making their way towards the bedroom you share with Quinn. You continue reading, paying no mind to the man entering the room, but there’s a hint of a smile on your face. 

“Hey,” Quinn greets in a low, relaxed tone. He kisses the top of your head, hovering by your side of the bed. “The boys want to do something. Are you up for it?”

Not really. “What do they want to do?” you ask, not sure if they’d come to an agreement by the time Quinn joined you upstairs. You don’t really want to join the boys, but you don’t want to seem like a spoilsport during your first trip to the lakehouse. Being a recluse won’t get you any favors, no matter how much Quinn likes you. You might be able to go downstairs and sit by a bonfire or watch from the couch while the boys play ping pong. Sitting on the boat wouldn’t be that bad, but you’d have to change out of your pajamas (a cute little slip that you packed just for Quinn). You also know that “one hour on the boat” never actually means one hour on the boat. It always stretches into two or three. So, really, you’d rather stay in.

“Thinking about going out on the boat,” Quinn replies, because you’re really not that lucky when it comes down to it.

Again, you’re faced with a dilemma: you can go with them and feel tired and cranky or you can stay here and feel like you’re not being a good girlfriend by joining the group. There’s not really a good option. At least in this bed, you’ll be warm.

“I kind of just want to stay in bed, if that’s okay,” you tell Quinn with a small shrug. “But I don’t want them to think that I’m boring or anything. I’m just tired.”

Quinn lets out a laugh. “They don’t think you’re boring. Are you okay, though? I know your ‘just tired’ can mean something else sometimes.”

He’s so sweet. You’ve been with Quinn less than a year, but he’s still managed to note your idiosyncrasies and moods perfectly. “I’m okay, sweet boy.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

A wave of affection passes through you. “Do what you want, Q. You choose. I won’t say no to cuddling you all night, but don’t stay on my account.”

“Just let me tell the guys to go without me,” Quinn replies. He leans down and meets your lips. “Then I’ll be back.”

He departs, but his return is quick. He brings his own book and gets into his pajamas– nothing but his boxer shorts– before joining you under the covers. Quinn throws an arm over your shoulders and opens his book, settling in.

You read together in silence for a little while. You start to get bored and allow yourself two more chapters– after checking to see just how long those chapters were, six and eight pages respectively– before you close your book and set it on the nightstand. You slide down the bed a bit, wrapping your arm around Quinn’s waist and squishing your cheek against his chest. 

Quinn rubs your arm. “Sleepy, babe?” he asks.

You hum, turning your face into his bare skin and planting a kiss there. “You’re warm.”

Quinn breathes out a laugh. He pulls you closer; you’re practically on his lap now. You might as well finish the job and get comfortable, so you straddle Quinn and bury your face in his neck, kissing the skin there. Quinn brings his hand to your back and runs his fingers up and down the expanse of it in soothing motions. 

It tickles at first, making you squirm. After a minute or so, you relax into the touch– and a few minutes after that, you find yourself grinding down against Quinn’s rapidly-filling cock.

“Quinn,” you murmur in his ear. You pull back and meet his eyes, trying to convey what you want with just a look. 

You don’t want much. You’re still tired and drained from the day, completely washed out from the swimming and boating and sunbathing you’d been thinking of earlier. All you want is to have Quinn close.

“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. He sets his book aside and encourages you to kneel up just enough that he can slide the waistband of his boxers down and free his cock. 

Greedily, you try to grind against his shaft as soon as it’s free, but Quinn halts you with a soft touch from his free hand. 

He fists the base of his cock and pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, using the pads of his deft fingers to spread your folds. His eyes are hooded and loving as his tip breaches your hole, and he starts to smile when you sink down and settle against him. 

“Oh,” you breathe out once you take him fully, clenching down and loosening your grip on his cock a few times before melting into Quinn. 

“Sweet girl,” Quinn praises in the tone that’s just for you. He plants his hands on your hips and kisses your lips.

Neither of you make an effort to move. In fact, you find yourself growing very drowsy in Quinn’s comforting arms. His distinct, tender touch has your head lulling forward, falling against his shoulder. Quinn breathes deeply and you follow, matching him. The smell of his bodywash fills your nose and you close your eyes, taking another breath.

It’s not inherently sexual, having Quinn’s cock inside you and his lips on your skin. It is, however, exactly what you needed after such an exhausting day.

[ylangelegy]

smooth operator 🏎️ seokmin x reader.

a lot of drivers were friends with their race engineer. one had to be, considering how closely the two roles overlapped. now, drivers who were in love with their race engineer— a slightly smaller club. perhaps with only one member, even.

★ f1 racer!seokmin x ferrari race engineer!reader. ★ word count: 7.4k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: formula one, seokmin has a crush, literally seokmin as carlos sainz, pining... so much pining..., fluff -ish, hint of angst. cussing/swearing; mentions of a surgery, crash. ★ footnotes: watched 10 carlos sainz reels in a row and this is what i have to show for it. this is literally just 'if seokmin was carlos + if seokmin was in loveee with his engineer'. turned out much, much longer than i anticipated. not proofread. (it's 5am. have mercy.) once again, all f1 inaccuracies are mine. for obvious reasons: dedicated to @diamonddaze01. papaya forever, baby. 🧡

Seokmin has always known he was down bad for you, but he didn’t realize just how bad it was until the news broke. 

It came in the form of an email. RE: Your future at Ferrari, it proclaimed, and Seokmin had opened it anticipating the details of his contract renewal. Joshua was already locked in with an extension that spanned several more seasons; surely Seokmin would be given a similar deal. 

Instead, he’d been given an apology, an explanation, and a warning that the media would be in on it by tomorrow noon.

His future with Ferrari was virtually nonexistent. And stupidly, foolishly, his first thought had been whether you already knew. 

The next 24 hours tick by slowly. It takes everything in Seokmin to not seek you out, to ask what you think about the whole affair. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait for too long. 

You text mere minutes after the article is published. Two messages.

First, a link to the article that Seokmin doesn’t even bother to read. The headline is enough. Yoon to make shock switch from Mercedes to Ferrari for the 2025 season. 

Second, a GIF of a penguin cocking its head to one side. Three question marks pop up over its head. 

It’s exactly the kind of levity that Seokmin needs. He huffs out a laugh, which sounds just a little too hollow in the emptiness of his apartment.

His fingers fly over his screen, and he shoots back a response before he can think too deeply of it. Come over?

He doesn’t have to ask twice. You already don’t deny him on a regular day. How much more when he’s lost his seat at the Scuderia? 

You’re ringing Seokmin’s doorbell in an hour. He stumbles over to the front door, sleep-deprived and still a bit dazed. He’s greeted to the sight of you with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy in one hand and a bottle of Pinot Noir in the other. 

“Record time,” Seokmin says, his voice coming out as a bit of a rasp. 

“Tragic circumstances call for efficiency,” you declare, stepping inside like you own the place. Maybe you do, in a way. Seokmin’s apartment has always felt a little more like home with you in it.

He toes the door shut and watches as you march straight to the kitchen, like this is a mission and not a lunchtime grief counseling session. You plop the ice cream and wine onto the counter, and before he can protest, you’re already reaching for two spoons and a corkscrew.

“No glasses?” he muses, leaning against the doorframe.

You toss him a look over your shoulder. “Are you feeling civilized right now?”

“Depends who’s asking,” he says. 

He crosses the room, plucking the corkscrew from your hand and making quick work of the bottle. You trade him a spoon in exchange, and within minutes, you’re both parked on his couch— knees tucked up, shoulders brushing— passing the pint and bottle back and forth like it’s some sort of sacrament.

A lot of drivers were friends with their race engineer. One had to be, considering how closely the two roles overlapped.

Now, drivers who were in love with their race engineer— a slightly smaller club. Perhaps with only one member, even. 

Seokmin tries not to think of it. He doesn’t have the time to pine. 

“It’s over.” His voice is quieter than he means for it to be. The weight of it all is settling in, sinking into the cushions, pressing against his ribs. “They kept Joshua. They signed Jeonghan. I’m out.” 

Your spoon pauses mid-air. “It’s Ferrari,” you say after a beat. “They’ve dropped bigger legends.”

Seokmin knows that. He’s spent the past ten years worshiping this sport, its brutality, its politics. He should’ve seen it coming, should’ve braced for impact. Instead, he let himself believe that winning was enough.

You shift slightly, angling towards him. “Let’s focus on the next day, at least. What’s your plan?” you ask, your tone as even as ever. 

“That depends,” he says, flicking his gaze up to meet yours. “Do I get to be bitter first, or do I have to be a good sport immediately?”

Your lips curve. “I think you get 48 hours of being insufferable before you have to post the Notes app apology.”

“God,” he groans, “the worst part.”

You hum in agreement, nudging his knee with yours. “The public statement. The classic ‘Forever grateful to Ferrari for the opportunity’ while you cry into your pillow.”

Seokmin exhales something close to a laugh. “You know me too well.”

“Obviously.”

Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s just you, sitting here in his apartment like you belong in every part of his life, like you always have. But when you shift closer, your hand resting on his knee, Seokmin feels the terrifying urge to be honest.

I’m going to miss you, he wants to say. What am I going to do without you? 

The words feel a little too raw, a little too real for one in the afternoon, so he clears his throat and grasps at straws for anything else. “We still have the season,” he says. “You haven’t gotten rid of me yet.”

When you flash him a smile, it’s not pitying. He’s grateful for that, at least. But then your words come— a quiet “I never wanted to be rid of you, idiot”— and it feels like getting shot in the chest. 

Ten years on the grid, and this season is shaping up to be his longest one yet. 

“Okay, Seok. We need a push now.” 

Your voice crackles through the radio, even over the high-pitched wail of the engine and the deafening wind tearing past his helmet. Lap 43 of 57, and he’s sitting in P5 with Seungcheol of Red Bull breathing down his neck. 

Seokmin exhales sharply, flexing his fingers against the wheel. He’s already wrung everything he can out of this car, dragging it through tire degradation and the lingering sting of betrayal.

And yet— your voice. Always your voice. Firm, steady, unwavering. The only thing in this whole mess that still belongs to him.

“Copy,” he says, forcing the word out between grit teeth. “Mode push.”

He flicks the necessary settings, shifts the brake balance forward, and readies himself to defend like his life depends on it. If not his life, then his dignity, at the very least.

A month ago, he would have thought differently. A month ago, Seokmin would have driven with Ferrari in his blood, believing he’d wear the red until he retired. But now? Now he drives for himself.

He’s collateral damage in a bombshell deal. Everybody wants to know where Lee Seokmin is heading next, and the worst part is that Seokmin himself doesn’t really know the answer to that question. 

He doesn’t want to see past this race. Right now, he’s only focused on two things: The checkered flag at the finish line, and the sound of your voice. 

Seokmin’s tires scream through the tight left-hander, the rear twitching as he corrects with practiced ease. Red Bull’s poster boy is still there, looming in Seokmin’s mirrors, but the latter holds the racing line. If Seungcheol wants to pass, he’ll have to fight for it.

The radio crackles again. “Good job. Hold him there. We’ve got better traction through the final sector.”

Your voice sounds closer than it should. He pictures you back at the pit wall, one hand on the radio, the other gripping the edge of the desk like you always do when things get tense. He wonders if you’re biting your lip, if your brows are furrowed in that way they always are when you worry about him.

God, he hopes they keep you next year. Even if he won’t be here to see it.

He pushes the thought away.

Lap 50. He’s still P5, but now Joshua is ahead of him, just over a second up the road. A small window of opportunity. A flicker of a chance. And maybe it’s stupid— maybe it’s reckless— but he’s already lost everything once. What’s one more risk?

“I can catch him,” he says into the radio, adjusting his brake migration. “If I get DRS, I can make a move.”

There’s a beat of contemplative silence. Then, your voice, pure as the driven snow: “You’ve got margin on the tires. Go get him.”

And just like that, the weight in his chest lifts.

Not because of Ferrari. Not because of the podium he probably won’t reach today. But because of you. Because for as long as he’s still here, you’re still rooting for him. 

If this is his last season in red, then he’ll make damn sure it’s a season worth remembering.

Lap 53.

The gap is closing. Slowly, surely.

Joshua is right there, his rear wing flashing ahead of Seokmin as they charge down the straight. A year ago, they might have laughed about this over dinner. Two Ferrari boys fighting for position.

But now, Seokmin’s stomach twists with something sharper. It’s not just a battle for P4— it’s a battle to prove he still belongs.

The radio crackles. “You’re within DRS range. We’re good on battery deployment. You know what to do.”

It’s not just a call. It’s a challenge. A test of how much fight Seokmin has left in him.

Your challenge.

He flicks open the rear wing, heart hammering against his ribs as the Ferrari rockets forward. The slipstream pulls him in, closer, closer—

Lap 54.

“You’re faster,” you hiss. “Stay patient.”

But patience has never been Seokmin’s strong suit.

Into Turn 1, he feints a move down the inside. Joshua covers it, just like Seokmin knew he would. That’s fine. He’s setting this up.

Through the chicane, Seokmin stays glued to the rear of the other Ferrari, tires protesting, the car twitching under him. He barely feels it. All he feels is the thrill of the hunt, the way his blood sings with the sheer want of it.

He pulls out.

Joshua squeezes him to the edge of the track, but Seokmin is already committed. Late on the brakes, he sends it down the inside, and he’s through.

The rear wiggles. He catches it. His tires scream in protest, but he keeps the car steady.

Lap 55.

“Nice move.” Your tone is clipped. You don’t seem entirely approving of his little stunt, though he doesn’t miss the edge of pride in your voice as you go on to say, “P4.”

His breath comes out in a rush. The job isn’t done. He forces himself to breathe, to focus, to bring the car home.

Lap 57.

The checkered flag waves. Seokmin crosses the line. P4.

It’s not a podium. It’s not a win. But considering where he was two weeks ago, drowning in uncertainty, it feels like something.

“Good job, Seok,” you say, the tension finally slipping from your voice. “That was a hell of a move.”

He exhales, slumping back into the seat as the weight of the race settles in. “Told you I could catch him,” he breathes, exhaustion laced with something lighter. Something almost like relief.

You laugh— soft, fond, like you knew all along.

And maybe that’s the real victory today.

Every press cycle has been absolute fucking hell to Seokmin as of late. 

The reporters are relentless. The vloggers, even more so. All of them want to know what it was like in the room where it happened. Did Jeonghan tell you? What did Joshua say? Where are you heading next? 

The third question hounded Seokmin across every race, in every damn country. It didn’t matter if he finished P1 or dead last. There would always be somebody demanding to know about his discussions with rival teams, his campaign for a new seat. 

The only thing keeping Seokmin tethered nowadays is you. 

The paddock is still a mess when Seokmin slips out of the press conference room. Cameras flash, reporters murmur, and somewhere in the distance, he can hear the unmistakable click of keyboards as people rush to twist his words into headlines.

His head pounds. His chest aches. He hates this part.

But then he sees you.

You’re waiting just beyond the media pen, arms crossed, eyes tracking his every move. The moment you meet his gaze, you offer him a smile.

It’s enough. It’s everything. It’s what keeps him on his feet, keeps him from running. 

You don’t say anything as he approaches. Just fall into step beside him, like always.

The two of you walk in silence for a while, weaving through the throngs of paddock staff and fans. He should say something, should at least try to make a joke about how many times he had to dodge questions about next season. For once, Seokmin can’t summon the energy.

When you finally speak, it’s in a delicate tone. “You did good today.”

A podium finish at Suzuka. Didn’t matter, he almost says. 

“Did I?” he asks just for the sake of asking. 

Your elbow bumps his. “Yeah. You did.”

Seokmin’s throat goes tight. There it is again. That urge to give you a piece of his heart; the whole damn thing, even. Before he can figure out how to respond, a kid— maybe ten, eleven years old— appears at his side, clutching a crumpled receipt, of all things, and a Sharpie.

“Hi,” the kid squeaks, staring up at Seokmin with wide eyes. “Could you sign this, please?” 

A practiced smile slots onto Seokmin’s face. It’s instinct. Years of muscle memory. He takes the receipt, uncaps the marker, and scribbles Forza Ferrari. 

Except— when Seokmin dots the ‘i’— he feels his stomach drop. The words stare back at him in bold, black ink, a painful reminder of everything he’s losing. Without thinking, he drags a line through them, crossing them out in one sharp motion.

He goes on to sign his name in one fluid motion. A bid to make the scrap of paper still somewhat worth it. 

The kid doesn’t notice the weight of the whole thing. “Thanks,” he chirps, practically shaking with excitement. “Can’t wait to see you race next year!”

If there’ll even be a next year, a small voice grouses in the back of Seokmin’s head. 

The kid disappears into the crowd, and Seokmin exhales. He feels your gaze before he looks up. He expects pity, maybe amusement— something that will make this sting even more than it already does. But when he meets your eyes, there’s none of that. Just quiet understanding. 

Seokmin swallows hard. “That was pathetic.”

Your lips twitch, like you’re fighting the urge to be blunt with him. Instead, you tilt your head and speak with that tone that brooks no arguments. 

“It’s hard to unlearn something that meant everything to you,” you say. 

That— yeah. That hits harder than he wants to admit.

Seokmin forces out a breathy chuckle. “I should’ve just written my name,” he mumbles. 

“Would’ve been a boring autograph,” you shoot back. 

He finally looks at you, properly this time, and something in the tension coiled tight in his chest loosens just a little. For the first time all day, Seokmin doesn’t feel like the guy whose seat was stolen. He doesn’t feel like the driver everybody keeps asking what’s next?

He’s just a guy you can joke with, a guy that’s worth one or two of your smiles. And isn’t that better than anything he could possibly be? 

You jerk your chin toward the motorhome. “C’mon, before someone else asks you the same three questions again.”

Seokmin hesitates for half a second before falling into step beside you. This time, it’s easier.

Seokmin is no stranger to discomfort. 

He’s driven through cramping, headaches, even a stomach bug that left him nearly delirious in Singapore one year. He knows how to push through the pain. 

This is different. 

It starts as a dull ache during FP1. A tightness low in his abdomen that he chalks up to dehydration, maybe something off in the hotel buffet.

By FP2, it’s a sharp, twisting pain, bad enough that he’s gritting his teeth through every braking zone. You check in more than usual, probably noticing the way his voice is shaky over the radio, but Seokmin waves it off. He can handle it.

Until he can’t.

By the time the session ends, he’s doubled over in the garage, clutching his side as if he can physically will the pain away. You’re the first person to reach him, your hand pressing to his back, voice edged with concern.

“Lee. What’s wrong?”

He’s sweating, his breath shallow, and yet he registers the use of his surname. You’re seriously worried, which would be endearing if he wasn’t fighting for his life. “Stomach—” A wince cuts through the word. “Hurts. Just give me a sec.”

You exchange a look with the team doctor. Seokmin sees it but ignores it. He doesn’t want to make a scene. He just needs to rest, needs a few hours to sleep it off. But when he straightens up, white-hot pain sears through his side, and he stumbles. 

You catch him just in time. Seokmin knows better than to protest when you whisk him away. 

“Appendicitis,” the doctor confirms, standing in the Ferrari motorhome with a clipboard tucked under one arm. “We need to get him to surgery. The sooner, the better.”

Seokmin sits on the couch, his arms crossed, jaw tight. His entire body protests the thought of stepping away. This isn’t just any race. It’s another chance to prove he still belongs on this grid. After everything, how the hell is he supposed to just sit out?

“Give me painkillers,” he insists. “I’ll race.”

You scoff. “Not an option. You physically cannot drive like this.”

Seokmin shakes his head. “I did FP1 and FP2. I can handle it.”

“Yeah?” You lean against the table, crossing your arms. You’re doing that thing again— the one where your eyes spark like flint. Seokmin has been in enough strategy meetings to know that you’re about to stand on business. 

“And when you’re in the car at 300 kph, and that pain gets worse? When you have to fight through a high-speed corner and your body quits on you?” You don’t wait for an answer. “You know what happens then? You crash. And it won’t just be your race on the line. It’ll be everyone else’s on that track.”

Seokmin presses his lips together, frustration buzzing under his skin. He knows you're right, but it doesn’t make it easier to accept. It feels like one more thing slipping away from him, one more weekend where his name won’t even be in the results.

“You have nothing to prove, Seokmin,” you say, your tone a little more gentle. “Missing one race won’t change anything.”

I have everything to prove, he wants to argue. But you’re right. He can barely sit upright without feeling like his insides are twisting into knots. How the hell is he supposed to survive 50 laps under extreme G-forces?

His shoulders sag, defeat settling in. “Who’s replacing me?”

“Kevin,” you say. “He’s already prepping.” 

Seokmin exhales sharply through his nose. Kevin Moon is the reserve driver, competent and reliable. He deserves the opportunity. Still, it stings. 

You must see it on his face, because your hand brushes against his. “Go get the surgery,” you say. “Heal up. We’ll be waiting for you in Australia.”

Seokmin swallows down the bitterness rising in his throat. 

He gives a tight nod. “Fine,” he mutters. “But if Kevin gets a podium, I’m never letting him hear the end of it.”

You let out a short laugh. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” you say. 

A little later down the line, Seokmin will find himself grateful for that moment, that need to take a step back.

It becomes his first lesson in the art of letting go. 

Seokmin stands in the garage, the faint hum of the mechanics around him barely reaching his ears. He’s staring at the monitor in front of him, but his focus is somewhere else entirely. 

You’re there, of course. You always are. Right by his side, clipboard in hand, ready to guide him through every lap, every decision, every nuance of the race ahead. You’re the steady presence he’s relied on for so long, and if he’s being honest with himself— though he hates to admit it— he’s always relied on you more than he should.

But it’s fine, isn’t it? That was the way of this world. You were his engineer. He had to rely on you, had to trust you, had to believe that you would always have his best interests at heart. 

“Seok,” your voice breaks through his thoughts, steady and familiar, “ready to go?”

He blinks, snapping his gaze back to you. You’re already watching him, waiting for his response, as though you’ve been calling his name for minutes.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Just making sure I’m locked in.” 

You give him a look, sharp and direct. “Seok, you don’t have to prove anything today. Just focus on driving, okay?”

It’s an echo of the conversation you had back in Saudi Arabia. You have nothing to prove. 

He relies on you. He trusts you. He believes you; he has to. 

“Got it,” he says softly, trying to ignore the way his pulse spikes when your hand briefly rests on his shoulder. 

The feeling is there again, creeping up from somewhere deep inside him. It’s been there for years, lurking just beneath the surface. Every time he sees you, every time you’re close to him, it hits harder.

He watches you walk away, your figure disappearing into the bustle of the team. He should be focusing on the setup, the tire choices, the strategy. Instead, his mind lingers on the way you always seem to know exactly what he needs, even when he doesn’t know himself.

“Seokmin, let’s go,” one of the mechanics calls, pulling him back into the present. He gives a quick nod, his thoughts scattering like dust in the wind as he makes his way to the car. The engine roars to life beneath him, and for a moment, the sound drowns out everything else.

But it doesn’t drown out the thought of you. 

The car hums beneath Seokmin, the engine roaring in his ears as the first few laps blur by in a flurry of tire choices, lap times, and strategies. Through it all, your voice is there. A calm presence in the chaos of the race. Every corner, decision, and lap, you’re there guiding him.

“Seok, we’re on track for a good finish. Keep your pace steady, you’re in control,” you tell him, your voice steady despite the ever-present tension.

He doesn’t respond, not directly, but he doesn’t need to. He’s felt your confidence in him ever since he’s joined Ferrari. And right now, with everything on the line, it’s that confidence that keeps him grounded. It’s what allows him to maintain his rhythm, to focus on each curve of the circuit as if nothing else matters.

Joshua is in his rearview mirror. Seokmin can see him inching closer with every lap. But Seokmin knows what’s at stake now.

“Hold your line. Joshua’s on a similar pace, but we’ve got a slight edge. Keep your head in the game,” you remind him, voice full of calculated precision.

“Copy that,” Seokmin grits out, his grip tightening on the wheel. He’s always been competitive, but now, with everything that’s happened over the last few months— his surgery, the uncertainty, the fact that this might be his last real chance to shine— it feels different. 

He wants this. He needs this. And not just for him, but for you.

It’s the smallest, almost imperceptible shift in his focus. It’s enough to drive him forward, pushing through the pain of the previous laps, the exhaustion, the pressure.

The laps tick down, and the gap between him and Joshua remains narrow, but Seokmin stays patient. He listens for your instructions, adjusting his braking points, taking each turn just a little more precisely, always with you in mind, guiding him through it all.

“We’re on the final stretch. You’ve got this,” you say, and something in your voice makes his heart race even faster. Something between the confidence, the care, and the sheer belief you have in him. 

For a moment, he lets himself daydream. He imagines what it must be like for you to say a different set of words with that unwavering conviction. How I love you might sound in that tone of yours. 

He drives it off. 

The final lap is a blur of speed, precision, and instinct. Joshua is close behind him, too close for comfort, but Seokmin’s hands are steady, his eyes sharp. The pit stops, the strategy, everything comes down to this.

And then it happens.

Seokmin crosses the finish line first.

A burst of emotion, a flood of relief and exhilaration, rushes through him as the roar of the crowd and his team’s cheers come through his earpiece. He doesn’t hear it as much as he feels it. The triumph, the validation, the overwhelming weight of everything he’s been through finally paying off.

None are quite as sweet as the crackle of your voice.

“You’ve done it.” Your tone is filled with something he can’t quite name. Pride, satisfaction, maybe even affection. “That’s three wins, my friend.” 

The third of his career.

The radio goes silent for a beat, and then there’s the unmistakable sound of a cheer rising up behind him, somewhere within the team garage. Ferrari’s first one-two finish since 2022, and it’s Seokmin leading the charge.

“Great job,” Joshua says over the comms, his tone warm but with that familiar competitive edge. He’s close, but Seokmin knows. Joshua knows.

This is Seokmin’s moment.

He pulls into the pit lane, and there’s a minute, just a fleeting one, where everything stops. The noise, the world around him, all of it fades as Seokmin simply sits there, breathing it in.

For a moment, it’s just him and the car. And you.

He pulls off his helmet, breathing in the fresh air as he climbs out of the car. The crew swarms him, congratulating him, but his gaze is immediately drawn to you.

You’re waiting at the pit wall, watching him approach. The smile on your face when he sees you— it’s not something he can ignore, not something he wants to ignore. 

Honestly? At this point, to hell with P1.

That smile of yours is everything he’s worked for.

The car skids across the track, a sickening scrape of metal against asphalt that makes Seokmin’s stomach lurch. 

His hands are already gripping the wheel in tight fists, his foot pressing uselessly on the brake as the car spins. He hears the screech of tires, the crunch of impact, and then— nothing.

Silence, save for the buzzing in his ears, the pounding of his own heartbeat.

“Lee Seokmin,” comes your voice over the comms, sharp with concern, but Seokmin can’t focus on it. He’s still recovering from the shock, still trying to piece together what just happened.

He sees the flashing lights in his rearview mirror, the yellow flags flying high. It’s done.

“Good,” he mutters, though the word feel hollow. His hands are still trembling on the steering wheel, the adrenaline from the spin still pumping through his veins, but he knows what comes next. His race is over thanks to Chwe fucking Vernon. 

He guides the car to the pit lane, the engine a low hum beneath him, but every turn feels heavy. He pulls in and slows to a stop, the team immediately rushing toward him. They don’t even have to say anything. He knows what’s coming. It’s a DNF.

“You alright?” Joshua asks over the radio, a touch of concern in his tone. Seokmin barely acknowledges it, his focus sliding back into the numbness he feels. 

He steps out of the car. There’s a weight on his chest now, something heavier than just the race that’s been lost.

When he’s finally through the media debrief, he stumbles back to the team’s garage, the last of the pit crew still bustling around, cleaning up the mess.

He’s not surprised when he sees you waiting near the back. The way you’re standing, shoulders slightly slumped, tells him you’ve already been waiting for him.

Seokmin doesn’t say anything at first. He just lets the exhaustion crash into him, sinking against the wall as he runs a hand through his hair. The events of the race feel like a blur now, everything moving too fast for him to process. 

“Seokmin,” you start, your voice more gentle than it had been on the comms. You take a couple of steps toward him, but you don’t push. You’ve learned not to press when he’s like this.

Instead, you stand close enough for him to feel your presence, offering him the silent support he’s come to rely on.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he finally admits, voice terse and eyes unfocused. “I was doing okay. Then it just... happened. And I—” He breaks off, the words catching in his throat, frustration and self-doubt mixing together.

You don’t say anything for a moment, letting him work through the silence, but you take a small step forward, closer to him. “It wasn’t your fault,” you say, your voice steady despite the emotions he can hear in it.

You sound as sure of it as you always do. It’s the one thing that makes him feel just a little bit lighter.

“I still wrecked,” Seokmin mutters, his voice heavy. “I still spun out.”

“Yeah,” you say. “But you’re not the only one out there. It happens. What matters is that you're okay.”

Your eyes lock with his, and he sees something there that’s more than just sympathy. Something warm. Something comforting. You’re the only one who can get through to him like this, the only one who knows how to pull him out of his head when he starts spiraling.

You don’t need to say anything else. He doesn’t need more words right now. Just the support, the unspoken understanding that you’re there. That he’s not alone, even when everything feels like it’s slipping away from him.

“I’ve got you,” you say, the words low but steady, grounding him. “We’ll get through it. It’s not over yet.”

For a moment, Seokmin closes his eyes, taking a steadying breath. He can feel the exhaustion and the frustration starting to lift, just a little. With you by his side, he knows he’ll be okay.

It’s a privilege he won’t have for much longer. He doesn’t want to squander what little time he has left with you.

We’ll get through it. That ‘we’ ends with the season, but not today. Today, you’re still his. 

“Yeah,” Seokmin agrees, his voice almost a whisper. “We will.”

The summer break settles in, and with it comes a strange kind of peace.

The buzz of the races fades, the constant media scrutiny dies down. It’s a lot to process— sitting in fifth in the championship with 162 points, knowing the season has been one of his best yet, but that it’ll all soon come to an end.

And there’s a matter of the news, too. It breaks like wildfire. 

Seokmin is at his apartment, staring blankly at his phone screen, watching the notifications flood in. The announcement is live, plastered across social media and various news outfits. 

Williams Racing welcomes Lee Seokmin for 2025, 2026 and beyond. 

It should feel like a moment of triumph, a new undertaking, a step forward. Instead, it’s just surreal. 

The buzzing of his phone is endless, the questions from reporters unrelenting, but what really gnaws at him is the impending realization that it’s happening. He’s leaving Ferrari, the team he has called home for so long.

The red and black that has become synonymous with Seokmin's identity in the sport, the endless hours spent with his engineers, strategists, and you— the heart of his team. It isn’t just a change of scenery. It’s a shift in everything.

A text from you pings through. The same as last time. This time, it’s a GIF of a cat whose jaw has dropped comically. A laugh crawls out from the back of his throat. For once, he lets himself be honest. 

This feels like I'm walking away from everything I've known, he responds, the text admittedly much more load-bearing than it should be. But if anyone was going to understand the weight of this, then it was going to be you. 

Your response is quick. You’re not walking away from anything. You’re moving forward. Williams is lucky to have you. 

He leans back in his chair, fingers drumming the table in front of him. Your words should be comforting. And, in a way, they are. But it’s hard not to feel like he’s losing something— someone— by making this move.

You’re biased, he teases. 

Not at all, you shoot back. I mean, look at your season so far. You’ve been incredible. Williams will give you a fresh start, and you’ve earned it.

Seokmin smiles softly, your words lifting a little of the weight from his chest. It isn’t just the confirmation of his future; it’s the reminder that he hasn’t lost everything he’s built with Ferrari. You’re still here.

But something lingers, unspoken in all of Seokmin’s messages. A question he dreads to ask: What happens now? 

His fingers hover over his screen. For a moment, he considers just outright asking you, telling you, about this damn feeling that’s been thrumming in his system for God-knows-how-long. 

He settles, instead, for something that’s still the truth. 

That’s because you make me possible, he says. 

There’s a brief pause before your response comes again.

Don’t get all sappy on me now. We still have a couple more races to win. 

A chuckle bubbles out of Seokmin. You always know what to say. How to make it feel like everything will be okay, even when it’s hard to believe that.

I’ll win, he shoots back. Then, in a fit of bravery, one that he almost feels like applauding himself for, he adds, I’ll win for you. 

The air in Abu Dhabi is electric. 

The final race of the season, and for Seokmin, it’s his last with Ferrari. The sun is setting, casting a golden hue over the track as the engines hum with anticipation.

This is it. The last time he’ll race in the iconic red, the last time he’ll hear the roar of Ferrari fans cheering him on from the stands.

Seokmin stands in his garage, the team bustling around him. His helmet sits beside him, the familiar Ferrari colors glaring back at him. The engineers are doing their final checks, and you’re standing beside him. Quiet, focused, but there's something different about the way you look at him today.

It's the kind of glance that says everything without needing words. You've both known this day would come, but now that it's here, there's a bittersweetness that hangs in the air, unspoken.

“One for the road?” Seokmin says, his voice softer than usual as he meets your eyes.

You smile, though it’s tinged with a trace of sadness. “One for the road,” you echo. “Don’t crash.” 

He chuckles. “No promises.” 

The warm-up laps begin, and he slips on his helmet, the noise of the crowd outside swelling in his ears. The race is about to start.

“You’re ready,” you say, tapping his shoulder. He feels your presence beside him one last time as you relay the instructions through his earpiece.

The lights go out. The cars roar to life, and Seokmin is in his element. The track, slick from the desert heat, feels different today. He doesn't mind.

He’s determined to give Ferrari one last race to remember.

His eyes focus on the road ahead, but a small part of him is also tuned in to the fact that this race marks the end of an era.

The laps fly by. The strategy calls come in smoothly, with you guiding him through every twist and turn, keeping him grounded. Seokmin pushes hard, each lap faster than the last, as he battles it out with the other drivers.

As the race reaches its final stages, Seokmin finds himself in a podium position. The pressure mounts, but he’s calm, steady. 

He knows this track. He knows his car. He knows you.

“P2, Seok. Just a few more laps. Keep your focus,” you call, your voice steady and reassuring.

I’ll miss you, a voice in the back of Seokmin’s head screeches. He barely manages to hold the words back. 

“Thanks,” he replies, his voice catching slightly.

Seokmin was usually gunning to finish. Today, he’s dreading it. 

The final lap begins. It feels like everything is in slow motion as Seokmin takes each turn, each straight with precision, his tires gripping the track with the familiar strength he’s come to trust over the years. 

The end looms. You push him to it. It’s almost cruel, almost unfair, how in doing your job, you’re sending Seokmin off.

Seokmin grips the steering wheel, his hands slightly trembling. 

And then it’s over. 

Just like that. It’s over.

The crowd roars in approval. Seokmin barely hears it over the pounding in his chest. He pulls into the cooldown lap, his car slowing as he takes it all in.

Joshua finishes third, but he doesn’t say anything over the comms. Once again, this moment is Seokmin’s. 

You guide Seokmin through cooldown. He swears that if he strained his ears, he could catch the hitch in your voice.

“Thank you,” he says. He knows everyone is listening, wanting to see how the indomitable Lee Seokmin was going out. This was how.  

“It’s been a pleasure driving for you.” (The art of letting go.) “Forza Ferrari.” 

There are no cheers from the crew, no jabs from Joshua. For a long moment, the weight of Seokmin’s words linger over the radio. 

When you respond, it’s with that firmness that has made Seokmin so utterly infatuated with you. 

“Give them hell,” you say. 

It’s a command, and Seokmin is convinced he would’ve obliged based on your tone alone. Being the love of his life was just a nice little bonus.

He laughs, the sound carrying over comms. “They won’t know what hit them,” he promises. 

Today, Seokmin did well. 

Not first, not even second, but a solid position that Williams can be proud of.

He steps out of the car, wiping the sweat from his brow, and slowly removes his helmet. The blue of Williams shines beneath the bright race lights.

There's a sense of accomplishment; it’s not quite like the elation of his Ferrari days. Still, he did his job, and he did it well. That’s what matters.

As he walks towards the garage, his new race engineer is already there, calling out instructions and congratulating him. Seokmin exchanges a couple of words with Vernon.

Seokmin’ll get used to this, he’s sure. He’ll warm up to Vernon. He’ll grow into the dark blue of the Williams suit. 

And maybe he’ll even move on from you. 

Fat chance, he thinks, when he runs into you outside Williams’ motorhome. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume you were waiting for him. 

“Not bad for a rookie,” you say right on the get-go. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re not in my ear this time,” he retorts, though there’s a twinkle in his eyes.

You laugh, the sound familiar and comforting in a way that makes Seokmin’s chest feel a little lighter. “I’m just saying, I never got to call you a rookie in that red suit. But now... it suits you,” you tease, nodding toward his new Williams suit. “Kinda bland, though. You looked way better in red.”

“I’m still making it work,” he insists, pulling at the collar of his blue overalls. “Even if it’s not quite the same.”

“You’ll make it work,” you echo, your tone light but sincere. You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. “So, how’s your new race engineer? You’ve got her wrapped around your finger yet?”

The implication that you’d been wrapped around Seokmin’s finger is almost laughable. It had been the other way around for years and years, and you were none the wiser. 

“Not yet. It’s different,” he admits. “I miss having you on the comms.”

There’s a brief pause, and you can feel the familiar energy between you two shift slightly, that same unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Seokmin’s gaze flickers down for a moment, then he looks back up at you, a little too seriously.

“Honestly, though,” he says, shuffling a little closer to you, “it’s been weird. You were always the one to get me through the races. I didn't realize just how much I depended on you until now.”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected honesty, but you recover quickly, shaking your head with a small smile. “You really have a knack for making me feel like I’m about to cry, don’t you?”

Seokmin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry. Too serious?”

“No, no, it’s just... you’re not the only one who misses the old team,” you say, your voice softening a little. “It’s been weird not hearing you. But you know I’m still rooting for you, Seok. I’m still in your corner.” 

And it’s that— that damned support, those words that are never just a platitude to you— that has the words spilling out of Seokmin. Maybe the distance has given him courage. Maybe, now, he has nothing to lose and everything to prove. 

“What will it take,” he says in a rush of words, “for you to be there not as my friend?” 

Your eyebrows arch upward. Crap. Seokmin knows he probably could’ve phrased that better, but when you’ve been holding on to a feeling— well. It’s hard to be coherent. 

“I like having you in my corner,” he amends. “And I want you there as more than a friend.” 

It’s still a bit of a fumble, a clumsy attempt, but you always did know how to detangle the web of Seokmin’s confusing sentiments. On and off the track.

You see his confession for what it is. He senses it in the way your expression shifts ever so slightly; he’s comforted by the fact that you don’t pull away, that you don’t immediately go running in the opposite direction. 

“You know,” you say slowly, like you’re picking out the best words. “I have a self-imposed rule on not dating co-workers.” 

This is somehow worse than the Your future at Ferrari email. “Oh,” is all Seokmin manages to say. Attempting anything else might betray the gravity of his distress. 

You level Seokmin with an amused glare. “We’re not on the same team anymore, Seok.” 

Oh. 

The look on Seokmin’s face must be priceless, because the grin that tugs at your lips is that smile you have whenever he used to nab a podium finish. The thought that it might be comparable to you is enough to have Seokmin going weak in the knees. 

He’s reminded of all those hellish press conferences. The endless inquiry of What’s next for Lee Seokmin? 

“Bring home a title for Williams,” you say, “and then maybe we can discuss a date.” 

Here’s the thing: Seokmin has spent countless hours listening to your voice. He knows its cadence, its inflection, from all the time that it has buzzed in his ear. He knows how you sound when you’re angry, when you’re tense, when you’re excited. 

And so he knows you’re not joking. The ‘maybe’ is a cushion. The challenge is sincere. 

Seokmin breaks out into a smile, and you can tell he’s not letting this idea go anytime soon. 

He’s going to win, and he’s going to come to you to collect. 

[cupidbedsy]

🪻 for "I neglected you." "No, it's ok, you..." "No, it's not ok. I should have realized how lonely you felt." With pookie Quinn please?

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked lonely lavender 🪻 !

warnings: quinn neglecting reader, tired quinn, unresolved conflict

word count: 937

florist cupid: thank you so much for requesting lovie, i'm sorry it's taken me a while to write it! i hope you enjoy it, the ending is a bit rushed because i was running out of ideas and words to use 😭

you've known about quinn's tendencies to throw everything he has into hockey. every time you got home from work, he was rewatching old games or jotting down ideas in his notebook for practice the next day. it was one of your favorite things about him, how dedicated he was, but it quickly also became one of your least favorite things.

he did everything he could to make the team better, to make himself better, but at the same time, he was wearing himself thin. every time he'd come home from practice or a game, he'd look a little bit more tired than how he left. each loss cut into him and you couldn't recall the amount of nights he spent laying awake after one, recounting all the things they could've done differently.

eventually, you started seeing less of him, mentally at least. he was still there when you got home from a long day at work, he was still there to pull you into his arms in the middle of the night, but you can't remember the last time the two of you had sat down and had dinner together.

you didn't want to rant to him about the minor mishap that you had or that you lost one your favorite sweaters the other day, not when he he felt like he had the weight of the team on his shoulders, he had bigger things to worry about.

but deep down, you wanted him to focus on something other than the losses, other than the comments. each time you would offer to go out with him or watch a movie, he would shake his head and push you aside, claiming he had some stuff to work on. with each rejection, you grew annoyed and soon it became too much.

you got home and once again, quinn was sitting there scribbling something in that godforsaken notebook. you couldn't help the sigh (huff) that escaped you, alerting quinn to your presence.

he gave you a small smile before turning back to his page, "hi baby."

you raked a hand through your hair, making it more messy than it already was. you shrugged your coat off, hanging it up, kicked your shoes off, and made your way over to the couch, plopping down next to him.

he didn't say anything, just continued to write with the cutest furrow of his eyebrow as he concentrated and you frowned as it softened your annoyance.

"quinn can we talk?"

"mhm." he drew something, you couldn't tell what, but you could assume it was a play he had been curating up since you walked through the door.

"quinn."

"'m listening, y/n/n." but he wasn't, he kept his focus on the page, drawing random lines over it.

you sighed, taking the notebook away from him, "quinn."

finally he looked up, pushing his hair out of his face to look at you, "why'd you take it away? i was working on something."

he reached for it but he simply held it out of his reach, "because i want to talk to you and i can't do that when your head is somewhere else."

"i was listening."

"no you weren't."

you placed the notebook behind you, hands making quick work of moving to the hem of your shirt and fidgeting with it. you mulled over your thoughts in your head, trying to organize them as best as you could.

"what'd you want to talk about?"

"quinn, listen..." you started but were quickly cut off by his bewildered voice.

"you're not breaking up with me are you?"

"what? no, of course not. i just wanted to talk about something."

he let out a sigh of relief, nodding as he sank back into the couch. you took this as a sign to go forward, continuing to play with the hem of your shirt, "you know how much i love that you take everything to hear,t the criticism, the compliments, the suggestions, and how much you do to make the team better but recently."

you trailed off again, a wave of nervousness washing over you, "i feel like we haven't been us."

he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "what do you mean?"

"when's the last time we had dinner, quinn?"

your question hit him in the face like a cold glass of water. he recounted the past month in his head, trying to rack his brain for the last time you two had gone on a date or spent the night together besides cuddling in bed.

you were right, it had been a while since the two of you had done anything, the realization rushed through him, a feeling of guilt and sadness following it.

"i neglected you."

his soft words made you frown, you didn't mean to make him feel worse than he already was, you just wanted to bring it to his attention, you reached for his hand, tangling your fingers in his, "no, it's okay, you..."

you tried to explain but he shook his head, slipping his hand from yours and standing up, "no, it's not okay. i should've realized how lonely you felt."

you watched as he walked fast to the kitchen, slipping his shoes on. he needed time to think, time to make this right between the two of you. he had messed up, and it weighed him down more than anything on the team could've.

"quinn, honey, where are you going?" you went to follow after him but as soon as you stood up he closed the door to your apartment, leaving you more alone than you had felt in weeks.

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[tubbytarchia]

Why Shortgrass is AWESOME and why you guys should care RIGHT NOW please

They admire each other's building skills A LOT a lot. To the point that it's basically their own language where they just communicate through compliments and block choice discussion. The horse rivalry is the one thing everyone knows about, but I don't see anyone commenting on the way they get at each other, especially the things Bdubs proposes, all "I hate him now. I didn't think I was capable of hate. I'm gonna get good at PVP. I'm gonna get him. I'm gonna blow him up. Joel is evil and fucked up", literally playing out his murder plans, only to then become a little fangirl as soon as he's in Joel's presence. Joel doesn't show it as much but he's the same way. They're literally 👉👈 at each other. Bdubs is also so susceptible to praise. Although he often plays up his reactions, you know he loves a good compliment and he knows any he gets from his senpai idol guy Joel are genuine

This is especially well showcased when Bdubs was showing off his stalls that have been trapped, and Joel thinking that something is up. Bdubs dedicated an entire episode to this, hyping himself up, and then them actually interacting is tense but extremely polite. And then that whole interaction is capped off with Joel: "Wow I though I was gonna die but this has been really pleasant. Thanks". Then they like playfully taunt each other before Joel flies off and Bdubs goes "That's exactly how that was supposed to go... simple and friendly... I got him played like a fiddle.... yes I do..." after accomplishing nothing but giving Joel a nice little showcase of his new build

That is to say, it's very cute that Bdubs despite his expressions of Joel being despicable gets exposed to his genuine side and how they tend to be very sweet towards each other (examples below). It serves as an interesting but nice contrast to the Life series, where a lot of players (some more than others) go off of the same belief, that Joel is a rabid dog in need of being put down. Joel very much plays into being a rascal, but he means no real harm (eg reassuring Bdubs he wouldn't kill his important horses and you know he won't) and it so easily becomes playful and mutual banter between them

Anyway bunch of moments of them being cute or something that I can't and don't want to sum up organically

At the start of a SL session, Joel is yellow and on 8 hearts, is asking the Mounders for their hearts, Bdubs is hesitant but goes "you deserve it". Then he lies to Etho that Joel was so intimidating and scary and forced him. Then he lies to Impulse that Joel was pathetic and begging for it.??

In one episode of SL, Bdubs tries to help Joel guess someone's task by guiding him to Grian, but Grian's task was to get called out so Joel helps him succeed instead and Bdubs feels really bad about it. Then like 2 episodes later he's, again, sharing intel to help him guess multiple tasks. Something about the way he's above ground talking to Joel for an extended period of time at multiple points while Joel is down under working on an exp farm calling him his favorite snitch (the only person Bdubs doesn't snitch on is Etho. Naturally)

And also Bdubs praising Joel a bunch when he sees him actually digging out the farm. He's praising Joel as if it were his task to do so (like Scar with Pearl in that other SL episode) but he's just. doing this just because

When Bdubs' task is to get someone to leave whilst he's telling a story, Joel eventually does, and Bdubs seeks him out later just to tell him "I knew you would. I knew you got my back"

Joel accidentally shoots Bdubs during the SL finale, he feels awful about it and Bdubs tells himself to eat his golden apple, which poetically reminds Joel to eat his. And then Scott uses Bdubs' death to taunt Joel before killing him too 😐

"Good morning sunshine!" (Joel in response: "morning mr dub")

"Are you trying to swim in lava, angel?"

Bdubs completely unprompted: "Be calm and cool and collected, like Joel is in moments like these, not scared of anything"

Joel mimicking Bdubs in WL going "you see, Minecraft is like a canvas..." and Bdubs reacting to it

Bdubs saying "Hey, don't- calm down, kay? We're gonna get you out of this, okay?" to Joel while Joel's trying to sell him purpur against his will

Bdubs fixing Joel's trapdoors even whilst in the process of horse cursing him

Bdubs talking about how he wants to beat Joel in PVP "for stealing Etho" and then also calling him a good builder unprompted. He's so fanfiction

And the statue Joel built of Bdubs ofc

If anyone knows more you've gotta tell me

(More from you guys that I forgot!!) Joel all "different season, you've no reason to hate me now right" at the start of WL and Bdubs goes "no of course not. Except I wanna kill you"

Their banter in general in their episode of "Is that Sheep looking at Me?" (And Gem)

<33 I love u Bdubs you're so good to my boys

[blurry-lock]

AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Valentine’s day shidou ryusei x reader fic <3

What you need to know: short, cheesy and cliche, reader is shy, high school au, artsy Shidou and reader, gender neutral reader, fluff!

Shidou Ryusei. The name of the boy who sat next to you in the art club and also the guy you started to really like ever since club activities started.

Many people would describe Shidou as aggressive, impulsive, mean and even a demon, but to you he was like a cupid’s arrow shot straight into your heart.

Shidou was a very different person when he was at the art club, he was very dedicated and calm. He would often compliment your work and tell you about how he liked your explosions or something like that, give you tips and opinions to help you improve, he was attentive to you and even if you rarely talk outside club activities and you often saw him getting into fights or practicing in his other club he always was very sweet to you, a rare sight on him.

You were shy and barely talk to anyone, so when you went to the art club and he started talking to you at first you were happy you made a friend, he was a little weird and very teasing sometimes, but he was nice and you seemed to have the same interests, you fell in love in the way he saw things and how he expressed himself without words but with art and soccer.

Valentine’s Day was getting near and you were currently trying to write a love letter for him, you even did a sketch of him.

“No… this sounds pretty stupid…” You mumbled as you threw another piece of paper to the trash. The letter had to be perfect, you assumed he received a lot of love letters on Valentine’s Day so your letter had to stand out from the rest.

You hadn’t even finished writing another attempt of a letter without being a blushing mess, giggling and kicking your feet every time you thought about Shidou. You were really scared, the last time you gave a love letter to someone the person just straight out laughed and bluntly rejected you.

Finally after a long time of writing and trying to pour out your feelings to the letter and making some chocolate cookies that were surprisingly delicious, you packed everything in a pretty pink box and waited for Valentine’s Day to come.

Meanwhile, to Shidou Valentine’s Day was another boring day, contrary to what you thought, he never received a letter, let alone a confession. People would just look for him for something casual or hookups as he was “just too much” or “too weird” in their words. He craved for something much more than that, he wanted real love, someone would make his cells vibrate, he wanted an explosion, a person who get him and not restrained him from his so called freedom. A feeling he only felt when he was in the field or working on a canvas.

At the end of the day he would cry when he became nothing, specially on Valentine’s Day when he craved more of that feeling. Yeah, being just by himself was nice and he was used to, he enjoyed it, but it was days like this when he started to overthink what it felt like to be loved and cared for.

Today was the day, you had packed the box in your backpack and you were currently walking to the art club, feeling the weight of every step you took. Your heart was beating very fast and you were very anxious, your plan was to ask Shidou to talk privately after the club activities ended and give him box. As you arrived to the club, he was already there, you sat next to him as usual and took a deep breath.

“Hey y/n, is something wrong? You seem nervous” Shidou tilted his head, looking at you slightly curious.

“I-I’m fine…” you smiled shyly and turned to look at him with a determined face. “Shidou, I was wondering if we could talk before we go home.” You blushed and immediately cursed yourself for getting flustered so quick.

“Oh? Now I’m curious, sure we can~” Shidou smirked as he then started to work on his own canvas, feeling a small jolt on his heart at your words and flustered state, could it be…? No, he was in denial, maybe it was something else. He couldn’t imagine someone so sweet, shy and gentle liking him.

The club felt like an eternity to both, Shidou was dying of curiosity and you were dying of embarrassment, neither of you shared a word until club activities were over.

“So? Where should we talk?” Shidou looked at you with curiosity and slight impatience.

“Uh… can we go to the sakura tree?” You asked, almost mumbling the last part as you felt you heart beat faster and your cheeks starting to redden.

The sakura tree was a peaceful and common spot were couples hang out in school, Shidou was confused and surprised by your request but agreed anyway, he didn’t want to get his hopes up but he couldn’t deny his heart was getting excited.

Once you reach the spot you stood up in front of him, you took out the pink box with the letter and cookies inside and breathed deeply. You extended your hands holding the box to him as your face was a deep shade of red.

“F-for you!” You looked down and your hands slightly trembled.

Shidou widened his eyes and blinked twice as he processed what was happening. The person whom explosions he loved and made his cells get excited was giving him what it look like a love letter? Surely this was a first for him.

He took the box from you with care as if it was the most precious thing he saw ever and stared at it. “Can i… open it?” He spoke softly as he started to open the box.

You nodded shyly, still not able to look at him as you heard him open the box and when you heard he was opening the letter you quickly looked at him, terrified. “You can read it later, t-there’s no need to read it now…” You stuttered as you saw him ignore you and open the letter anyway.

You could see his concentrated face as he was eating one of the cookies you made and reading the letter, but you couldn’t figure out his reaction, he was expressionless. “Don’t feel pressured to say something I… just wanted to tell you my feelings and-“

You were cut off when suddenly Shidou cupped your face with his free hand and smashed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, you could feel the taste of the cookies through it, but it was full with passion and excitement.

He pulled away and looked at you, a slight blush covering his face as he was smiling stupidly in love.

“You really surprise me sweetheart~” He chuckled as he caressed your cheek while you were still processing what just happened. “You even did a pretty drawing of me! Damn i look handsome.” He chuckled as he admired your sketch.

Your lips trembled and you felt your chest could explote at any second, you didn’t imagine to get this far with your confession. “You… like it?” You asked still in disbelief.

“Like it? Sweetheart, this is the first time I’ve received something so beautiful.” He smirked and ruffled your hair. “So I’d say I love it” Shidou was over the clouds, he felt like someone finally matched his explosions, he didn’t care you were slightly shy and more reserved. You were just perfect for him, you get him and saw through him, it was the kind of feeling he was craving for all this time.

Your eyes lit up at his words, your lips curving into a smile as you looked at him. “Shidou…”

“You’re never leaving my side now, just so you know.” He smirked and hugged you tightly.

This was a very unexpected confession to Shidou, but he was determined to be with you and never let you go now that he found his missing piece.

Hope you like it! This was just a simple fic now that Valentine’s is coming, English is not my first language sorry for any mistakes!!

I made this for my shy people!! Bc honestly if somehow shidou was my classmate i would be trembling and blushing like crazy lol

[steddieas-shegoes]

i hate the way i don't hate you

for @steddielovemonth inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You

rated m | 2571 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: inspired by 10 things i hate about you but it's so short so keep that in mind, enemies to friends to lovers, time skips, getting together, falling in love, modern au

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

“Let me get this straight: you asked him out as part of a bet.”

“Mhm.”

“Because he’s insufferable and everyone in your little misfit group decided it would be funny.”

“Uh huh.”

“And your plan was to stand him up at prom so he would know how it feels to be heartbroken.”

“In a nutshell.”

“And then you fell in love with him.”

Eddie blinks at Robin, who looks like she might kill him with her bare hands. Honestly, he deserves it. He kinda hopes she makes him suffer.

“All signs point to yes,” he says.

She sighs. And then she sits down. And then sighs again.

“This is absolutely bullshit, you know that right?” She finally asks. “Steve’s a good person. He never deserved to be treated like his feelings don’t matter.”

“I know. And I should’ve known that from the beginning.”

“You fucked this up. He’s gonna hate you.”

Eddie knows that’s a good possibility. He hopes Steve is forgiving, but he knows he doesn’t deserve to ask him to be.

“If he does, I deserve it. But I came to you because I couldn’t lie anymore,” Eddie knows his reputation with his friends is on the line. He doesn’t care. “I’m gonna talk to him tonight and let him make his own decision.”

“You’re gonna tell him the day of prom that his prom date is an asshole?” Robin stands up again. “You’re gonna ruin his senior prom.”

“I’m ruining it either way. People are gonna tell him about it at prom if I don’t tell him before,” Eddie argues. “He deserves to hear it from me.”

“He deserves to not be a circus act,” Robin says, but nods. “Make sure you return your tux tomorrow. His card will get charged a penalty if it’s late.”

Eddie doesn’t tell her he already returned the tux. He figures it’s probably not the time.

He knows Steve won’t want to be near him after he tells him about the bet.

****

One month earlier

“You’d never land a guy like that anyway,” Gareth jokes. “Steve Harrington wouldn’t even glance your way let alone date you.”

“He’s so uptight, he’d laugh in your face if you even tried,” Frankie adds.

Eddie watches Steve carry Robin’s books to her locker so she can carry her trumpet case and science project.

“Wanna bet?”

****

Two weeks earlier

“You write music?” Steve asks as Eddie closes his notebook.

“I try,” Eddie smiles at him. “It’s not always good. It’s rarely good.”

“Could I hear some of it?”

“Maybe.” Eddie lights his cigarette, smirking around it as Steve’s cheeks turn a rosy pink. “Do you like metal?”

“I’ve never really listened to it,” Steve admits. “But I’d give it a shot if that’s what you wrote.”

“Come to my band’s show this weekend. I might play an original song as our encore,” Eddie says. “Might even dedicate it to you.”

The blush gets deeper.

****

The night before

“You know I used to wanna be an astronaut?” Steve says as he leans his head onto Eddie’s shoulder. “Still would if I was any good at math. I mean, I get by in class, but I’m in the easiest classes. Probably not astronaut material. Plus, I get seasick.”

Eddie laughs, something he’s done a lot with Steve. Something he never expected to be doing so much, actually.

“You could still work with NASA. Maybe you can’t go to space, but you could help people get there,” Eddie offers. “They’ve got plenty of people working in the office.”

“Yeah, but I think it would be hard to be so close, yet so far, ya know? Like I’m technically no closer to space there than I am right now. If anything, I’d be farther because I’d be stuck in a building, but here I’m with you,” Steve says simply.

Eddie leans his head on top of Steve’s, looking ahead instead of above.

His heart skips a beat when Steve’s hand rests on his knee.

“I’m glad I get to be here with you,” he says quietly.

Eddie swallows around another lie.

****

Present day

“Eddie! What’re you doing here?”

Eddie hates how excited Steve is to see him. It’s gonna make this so much harder.

His chest aches as he gives him a small, fake smile. Steve notices immediately because of course he does. Steve sees Eddie in ways his own friends don’t.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, and Eddie can hear it already in his tone, the way his body is rearing up for disappointment. Steve’s said it himself before: he’s always prepared for the other shoe to drop because everyone’s got two feet.

“Can we sit?”

“No. You can tell me whatever it is just like this.”

Eddie accepts it because arguing now isn’t going to help anything. Sitting or standing, Steve is going to be pissed at him.

“I can’t go to prom with you.”

Steve is looking at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean? Was something wrong with the tux? It’s not a big deal if you wanna go in jeans. I promise I was kidding about leaving you in a corner.”

Eddie gives an unamused laugh. “No, that’s- no. I lied to you. For over a month now. I only asked you out because my friends didn’t think you’d even talk to me, let alone agree to go to prom with me.”

Steve’s silence hurts almost as much as the tears that are gathering in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I ever even bet them that I could get you to go out with me. I’m sorry that sorry isn’t enough.”

Eddie can feel tears in his own eyes, but it’s not fair of him to cry. He caused this. He’s the reason Steve is upset. He shouldn’t get to be upset in front of him.

“Steven! The tux is pressed!” Steve’s mom yells from the front door. “Come inside so I can make sure the tailor got the sleeves right.”

Steve breathes in slowly before turning to his mom and telling her he’ll be in in a minute. He turns back to Eddie and sniffles.

“I guess I’ll see you at school.”

“Steve, I’m sorry. Really.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Steve walks into the house, leaves Eddie in the driveway.

****

Eddie paces his room.

There’s not a lot of space to do that, but he manages to wear a track in the carpet. Wayne will be home any minute asking him why he isn’t at the prom, why he isn’t with Steve.

Eddie will tell him and he’ll give him that same look he did when he told him about turning a kid away from Hellfire Club. It’s disappointment, and Eddie hates it.

The front door opens, Wayne’s footsteps echo to the kitchen while he puts away his ice pack and leftover containers from lunch, he pops open a can of beer, and then walks to Eddie’s room. He knocks on the door.

Eddie starts crying.

Wayne rushes into his room, sets his beer on the bedside table, and gathers Eddie into his arms.

“What’s goin’ on, son? Thought you’d be getting ready for your dance,” Wayne says, but it just makes Eddie cry harder.

Eventually, he calms down enough to explain.

Wayne keeps holding him because Wayne will always hold him, even when he’s disappointed in him.

“Well, he didn’t punch ya in the face,” Wayne finally says. “You apologized?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t matter. I still hurt him and he won’t forgive me.”

“You think you deserve to be forgiven?” He wasn’t asking meanly, just genuinely inquiring.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

If he’d asked earlier, he would’ve given a resounding ‘no.’ But he knows how sorry he is, and even though Steve probably never will forgive him, he does hope he will.

“If you’re really sorry, he’ll forgive ya,” Wayne settles on.

Eddie shakes his head, wipes his eyes and then his nose, frowning at the snot on his fingers. He wipes it on his shirt and falls back on his bed. Wayne laughs at him, pats his chest, and stands to leave.

“You could do something big for him,” Wayne suggests.

“Like what?”

“I dunno, you showed him that song you wrote about him yet?”

“I can’t show him that! Not now!”

“Why not? It’s about as big a declaration of love you can give.”

Eddie hates when Wayne’s right.

****

He gets Robin on board with bribery. A lot of it.

Money is definitely involved, more money than he really should spend, as well as his best weed (“it’s not for me!”) and free rides for the entire summer whenever she wants.

But she agrees to get Steve to The Hideout on Saturday night. She’s not good at lying, but she manages to tell a half-truth and Steve believes her.

Eddie’s a nervous wreck. His bandmates were read the riot act from him and from Wayne. They all apologized to Steve at school, though he didn’t really accept them.

It didn’t give Eddie much hope at all.

He’s doing it anyway.

Robin put in the effort of getting Steve here, so he’s gotta do it.

“You know ‘em and sometimes like ‘em just fine…Corroded Coffin!”

The guys all go on stage ahead of him when the crowd starts cheering. He takes one more deep breath and follows.

Gareth counts them in and they play.

It’s good, maybe one of their liveliest crowds yet. He can’t see many of the faces, but he knows Steve’s there. He saw Robin’s shirt when the lights dimmed between the first song and the second. She wouldn’t stay if Steve left.

Jeff introduces them after the third song like always, but pokes a little fun at Eddie.

“Sorry about our guitarist being a bit moody. He’s feeling deeply emotional about love,” Jeff starts the next song before Eddie can argue.

It’s a great show.

Everyone’s having fun, even Eddie.

But then the guys all sip on water and it’s Eddie’s turn to introduce his song. The song for Steve.

“Hey everyone,” Eddie starts, awkwardly. He’s not usually like this on stage. “Got a new song tonight. I wrote this for someone who I don’t deserve, but who I care about a lot. I know he’s mad and he should be. It may not fix anything, but I hope he knows that I mean every word.”

Gareth’s drums are soft for this one, just there to keep the beat with Frankie on the bass. Jeff moved out of the spotlight, still playing rhythm, but keeping the attention on Eddie while he sings.

He sings about falling for someone unexpected, wanting to create a love story better than Shakespeare. He sings about the boy who wanted to discover the stars, and the boy who wanted to hold his hand while he did. He sang about not knowing that he was capable of this kind of love, and wanting to have it forever.

When the song ends, the crowd claps, but they clearly aren’t here for the romantic ballad he just sang.

He lets Gareth count in for the next song and they go back to the loud, chest-thumping music they usually play.

He doesn’t see Robin anymore, and he decides then that if Steve left, he did everything he could for now. He can’t be more sorry than he is and he can’t force Steve to think more of him.

“Good show guys,” Jeff says as they tear down the stage. All of them are responsible for their own equipment, but they also help out the bar manager by unplugging the electrical and rolling the wires when they’re done. “And a great job on your song, Eddie.”

“Thanks,” Eddie gives him a small smile as he closes his guitar case. “Don’t know if it worked.”

“It did.”

Eddie turns at Steve’s voice, nearly falling over when he sees how good Steve looks. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and ripped jeans, something outside of his norm, probably trying to fit in with this crowd a bit. Eddie wants to kiss him.

“Steve.” Eddie isn’t sure who’s talking, but it must be him because Steve’s looking at him with shining eyes and the same smile he always gave him when he looked like he wanted to hold his hand. “You’re here.”

“Robin insisted,” Steve admits, stepping closer to Eddie. “But then I told her to head home so I could talk to you.”

“Oh.”

Steve’s mouth lifts in a smirk for a moment before he schools his features again.

“So you wrote that song for me?”

“Yeah. Is it too much?”

Steve steps closer again, only a few inches separating them now. He shakes his head. “Not too much, no. Maybe just enough.”

“Enough for you to forgive me?”

“I might be on the path of forgiveness.” Steve touches his chest, palm over his heart. “But can I ask you something?”

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

“What were you hoping to happen when you made the bet?”

Eddie has to think about that. Of all the things he’s thought about, this isn’t one of them.

Steve waits for him, though. He’s patient. One of the many amazing things about him.

“I think I just wanted to be right about you,” Eddie finally admits.

Steve nods once. “A lot of people wanna assume things about me because of who my friends were a couple years ago, and who my parents are, and how I always dress nice and act like a bitch. It’s easier to just think I’m a bad person than think I have any depth at all. Especially in high school. Even though most of us are adults now, no one really acts like it.”

“I’m extremely immature. You should probably know that if you’re gonna forgive me,” Eddie says.

“You’re not as immature as you pretend to be at school,” Steve smiles. “I’ve seen you, Ed. I know the bad boy against the grain guy isn’t all you are.”

“And I know there’s a lot more to you than your pretty face, though that’s a bonus.”

Steve kisses him and the guys all cheer for him. He’s laughing against Steve’s mouth, waving one hand at the guys to make them leave.

“Robin said you were crying when you told her,” Steve whispers against his mouth.

“She’s a traitor.”

“So you were?”

Eddie sighs. “Yes, I cried. I hated how much I knew it would hurt you to find out the truth.”

“You still have to make it up to me a little,” Steve says.

“Oh yeah? How?”

“Well, I remember something in the song about worshiping me on your knees? Or was that a weird religious reference?”

Eddie kisses Steve again, smiling so much that their teeth clack against each other almost painfully.

“I’m an atheist,” Eddie replies.

“We’ve got a long night ahead of us then, don’t we?”

Eddie groans. “I still have to help load all our stuff-”

“Dude. You were forgiven by a guy who definitely could find better than you. We can handle the stuff. Consider it more of an apology for us being dicks, too,” Jeff interrupts.

Steve grabs Eddie’s shirt and tugs him along. “I’m not gonna tell them I forgive them until tomorrow.”

“Good idea.” Eddie looks down at the way Steve’s ass fills out the jeans he’s in. “On second thought, maybe next week sometime.”

[greengoblinswifey]

since luigi is a vegetarian can u write a fluff about how it’s like living with carnivore reader that loves meat and seafood like crazy? i love ur writings sm this is my first time ever requesting to anyone hope you can deliver. love ya🎀🎀💕💕💕

a/n— I love this and thank you, enjoy <3 P.S, y’all should try oxtail at your local Jamaican restaurant, it’s too good.

Living with your boyfriend meant a lot of things, early mornings, the scent of fresh coffee, and hearing him mumble in Italian when he was focused on his studies. But one thing that became clear almost immediately was the difference in your diets.

Luigi was a dedicated vegetarian. You, on the other hand absolutely loved meat and seafood. It was a huge part of your culture, something you grew up with, and something you weren’t about to give up.

The first time he saw your fully loaded plate of ribs, wings, and shrimp, his eyes widened slightly.

“That is a lot of protein, amore.”

“It’s a lifestyle,” you grinned.

He exhaled, shaking his head with a smile. “I don't know how you eat all that.”

“You don't know what you're missing,” you teased, holding up a piece of shrimp. “Wanna try?”

“Absolutely not.”

You laughed, cutting into your food as he watched in mild fascination. “I respect it,” he admitted. “It’s just funny to me that we live together and eat completely opposite things.”

Despite your differences, Luigi never judged you. If anything, he was incredibly accommodating. When you cooked meals together, he made sure there were vegetarian options for himself while still helping you season your meats just right.

“Okay, so you add this jerk seasoning?” he asked, watching as you marinated chicken.

“Yeah, it gives so much flavor. I love it.”

He nodded, focused. “I feel like I'm betraying my ancestors.”

“They'll forgive you,” you snorted.

Mealtime was always an experience. You’d tease him about his salads, and he’d raise a brow at the sheer amount of steak on your plate. Sometimes, he’d dramatically clutch his chest when you brought home seafood boils, acting as if the smell alone would make him collapse.

Yet, he never complained. Instead, he’d sit beside you, sharing stories about his favorite vegetarian meals while you devoured your ribs with a satisfied hum.

One evening, he came home to you stirring a pot, the rich scent of seasoning filling the air. “What's that?” he asked cautiously.

“A vegetarian dish I looked up,” you admitted, shooting him a smirk. “Surprise.”

His eyes lit up. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, I figured it’s only fair I try your world since you tolerate mine.”

His smile softened as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You're the best, you know that?”

“I know,” you grinned.

Despite your differences, it worked. Because at the end of the day, love, like food, was all about balance.

One evening after devouring your plate of oxtail, you leaned back with a satisfied sigh, licking your lips. Luigi, sitting across from you, tilted his head, watching you with amused curiosity.

“What was that?” he asked, nodding toward your empty plate.

“Oxtail,” you said, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“Huh. Never had it, obviously, but you looked like you were in heaven,” he said.

“You have no idea,” you hummed, stretching before getting up.

Luigi stood too, stepping closer, hands resting on your waist as he leaned in. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and before you could react, he was already tilting his head to kiss you.

You pulled back slightly, laughing. “Wait, wait—you sure you wanna do that? I just ate meat.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “I don’t care, amore. I want my kiss.”

You snorted, gently pushing against his chest. “Lu, I respect you being a vegetarian. Let me at least brush my teeth first.”

“You don’t have to do all that,” he said, lips forming a pout.

“It’s fine,” you reassured, patting his cheek playfully. “Give me two minutes.”

With a dramatic sigh, he let you go, crossing his arms as he watched you disappear into the bathroom. When you came back, minty fresh, he immediately grabbed your waist and pulled you in, kissing you deeply. His hands slid up to your ass as you melted into him, the kiss turning slow and sweet.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling.

“I love my carnivore girlfriend.”

“And I love my vegetarian boyfriend,” you smiled.

He kissed you again, laughing softly. “I guess opposites really do attract.”

[ellesthots]

“twin bed”

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: bruce wayne visits your family home, but you struggle to find time alone together.

pairing: (battinson!)bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, oral sex, fingering, teasing, risky

words: 2.8k

Dinner had been good—great, even. The drinks were never late, the food delicious and warm. The only complication in the whole affair regarded lodging; you were staying at your parent’s house, which they’d insisted upon. This wasn’t the first time Bruce had met your parents, but it was the first trip dedicated to spending time together as a group. The brief initial meetings had made quite the impression, so much so they already considered him a part of the family. 

Meaning? Polite luxuries were no longer afforded, and they had him camping out on an air mattress in your childhood bedroom beside your tiny twin bed. 

Bruce didn’t mind. He was so used to sleeping on a hard cot in the basement of Wayne Tower that the air mattress was a sort of opulence. Most importantly, he thoroughly enjoyed time with your family. Seeing you in your element, getting to know the people who had helped mold you into the person he loved, was blissful. He would’ve slept on cement without complaint.

The first night, two days ago, you’d been so petrified of your parents overhearing that you barely even let him kiss you, despite how badly you craved his touch. He’d been working relentlessly the past month, various charity appearances and meetings about more charity appearances taking up his days, and high-intensity patrols taking up his nights. This week was supposed to be a vacation, but you couldn’t get a true moment alone. Stolen kisses and gripped thighs under tables weren’t enough to satiate your desire for closeness.

Last night you’d prayed for your parents to tuck in early, as they usually did, but they’d kept the both of you up until three in the morning with a deceptively intense game of Monopoly. It had tuckered the both of you out enough to pass out immediately. You’d slept until mid-afternoon, waking to a text from your mother about spending the evening at her friend’s birthday party—and that your sister would visit in their place. 

She hadn’t yet met Bruce, and was entirely enamored. Her eyes glittered every time he acknowledged her. When he excused himself to use the restroom, she leaned in with excited, jealous whispers. The next few hours were a bore.

Bruce caught onto your need for escape like you’d spoken it aloud. He pretended to surprise you with dinner reservations, and hastily made them in the car ride over. Your head throbbed with so much fawning conversation, always surrounded by prying eyes and ears. And you had another four days of this, with a family party pinned at the end of it. 

By some stroke of luck, your sister had abandoned the house by the time dinner plans were completed. Opening the door to an empty, quiet home was a godsend, and you slipped off your jacket and slunk to the bedroom to change. Bruce followed close behind. You fell onto the bed and slipped off your heels, rubbing the side of your foot where they had pinched. Your vision trailed along his legs when he tossed off his dress pants and pulled on a pair of gray sweats. His hips pulled forward as he shrugged off his blazer and yanked on a tee, creating a yummy print against the light fabric. You felt your body flush, and checked the time. It would be at least a few minutes until they got back…

You shimmied out of your underwear and sat on your knees, staring at him hungrily. Maybe it was the fact the room was dark aside from dim, faded fairy lights you’d put up years ago, casting beautiful mountains and valleys across his briefly exposed chest. Or maybe that it had been weeks, and your body felt tight with need, hoarding every second of that time like a grudge. You couldn’t decide what you wanted first—to touch him or him to touch you. For his fingers, or his lips, or…

He walked to the side of your bed, smoothing your hair behind your ear with a calloused hand. His movements were innocent and slow, and you knew he was acting oblivious. There was no universe where he immediately caught onto your boredom but couldn’t tell how intensely you ached to be taken care of now. You vibrated with it, full to the brim, desire so bloomed it blurred your vision. 

Was he waiting for you to beg for it? Would he really make you beg? Or was he playing safe, assuming your parents would be back any second? The thought only made you want to rush, not stall. Only increased the desperate pull for him to be on top of you, or you on top of him or, fuck, anything. 

You started pulling down his pants but Bruce shook his head; he let the rejection hang for a moment, watching the quiet flicker of your eyes across his face, gauging your reaction as he sunk down to his knees. The only sound was the air mattress sliding across the floor with a satisfying shick, and a creak of coils within your mattress as he moved a warm hand to your thigh and spread your legs.

He moved his hands underneath you and hooked around your legs, gently scooting your hips to the bed’s edge. The quilt you laid on cushioned your elbows as you sat up to watch him with wide eyes. Vibrant anticipation made your mouth water, peppering goosebumps up your arms and down your legs. The dim lighting framed his wide shoulders in half-shadow and accentuated the valleys his fingers created in the flesh of your thighs.

His eyes flicked up to yours and all thought vaporized as he brought his mouth to your clit. You held a breath. His eye contact was immobilizing, bringing heat to your cheeks and closing your throat. You only realized his hands had wandered when you felt a squeeze around the fleshy part of your waist. Your attention had been bought and fate sealed when his tongue pressed between the folds of your pussy, sending a soft rumble of pleasure up your core. 

You inhaled sharply as a hand traced down the side of your body, spurring a shiver at the base of your spine. The bedframe creaked as his weight adjusted against it, a finger teasing your entrance. He watched as your breathing shallowed and your subtle, quick nod shook the fragile twin bed. 

He wanted to watch your reaction when… your lashes fluttered as he slid his finger in, simultaneously pressing his mouth firmer against you. God, you tasted so fucking sweet. He suppressed a moan so he could better hear yours when he added a second finger, and oh, his body was unprepared for the sound. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and he let out an involuntary moan as your slick drenched his chin. He pumped his fingers deeper, harder, and suddenly your hands were in his hair.

His eyes dipped down only to pull back and visualize your arousal; your fingers slacked in his hair, a longing whimper slipping off your tongue at the pause. You were puffy, swollen, and the most delicious shade of pink. He drew a long, deep breath, half teasing, half preparatory. He brought his wet, pursed lips a centimeter away; your body tensed in anticipation, the room’s air turned static. 

Tight puffs of warm air caressed your clit, and your elbows slipped as your head fell back; your low groan was his cue to close the distance and lap at you, his fingers motionless inside. He kept a deliberate tempo, every few seconds leaning a little closer, moving his tongue a bit faster. He was waiting for it to be too much, patient for your hands to rip at his hair until it stung. Mmms and ahhs accompanied the thick, wet noises between your thighs, and he nearly lost himself in them. 

Usually you folded before this point, but you were making him work for it tonight—challenge accepted. He broke the suction and slowly withdrew his fingers, reaching for your spare hand. “Look at me,” and you immediately obeyed without protest, not even a sarcastic tease. His heart skipped. Ooh, you needed him. Even in the low light he saw how thrown you were by the width of your pupils and the slack in your jaw. His cock twitched under his sweats, his thoughts loosening. 

“Please,” you pleaded, shifting your hips closer. Bruce grinned when you grabbed the back of his head. He felt the insistence within your palm and obliged, moving his mouth back down. A part of him felt bad—you were never this needy. But the beauty in the trembling arch of your back and the heat emanating off every inch of your skin was so intoxicating he couldn’t resist keeping you here. He dragged his tongue lower, circling your entrance until your grip tightened, but not enough. Not yet. 

The warm, unhurried slip of his tongue against your clit had your moans echo off the walls. His pace was achingly slow, but you couldn’t complain when his mouth knew your body this well. His easy tempo continued for minutes, decreasing each time he felt your walls clench around his fingers. Tension built in your stomach and your back arched higher off the mattress. The sweeping motions of his tongue were languid, but his flicks were hard and calculated. You grabbed another fistful of his hair and yanked as his swipes turned to sucking, and he groaned against it. 

You shrieked as his fingers entered you once more, the come here motion hitting that dull, heady spot over, and over, and… “Fuck,” you cursed, face tense as he worked you to the edge. He was hitting that spot relentlessly, and the noises of your soaked cunt were downright pornographic. 

He felt your pussy clench hard around his fingers, and his mouth separated from you with a pop. “Go, baby.” He coached you as he curled his fingers higher. The room was hazy, his senses attuned only to your face and his fingers. His gravelly voice was strained by his own mounting desire. “Cum for me.”

You bit your lip and fought it; he couldn’t overwhelm you this easily, work you as he pleased. Even though he was right and you were on the edge of completion, almost dangling off the cliff, you wouldn’t let him have it so easily. He didn’t let you have it so easily. Remembering the torturous speed of the past ten minutes… and how fucking perfectly he was nailing you right now. 

Your breathing slowed intentionally when he moved up to kiss you. A whimper slipped from your lips as you held your orgasm at arm’s length, and Bruce’s brow cocked when he realized what you were attempting. “C’mon,” he purred, nudging your jaw out of the way to press a wet kiss to the nape of your neck. Your pulse hammered beneath his lips, betraying you, his hot breath matching the pace of his fingers as they fucked you. 

“Not so easily.” You managed a breathless sentence, the end frayed with a whine as he pulled his fingers out to circle the pearl of your clit. Your teeth made an indent in your lower lip, failing to keep secret how you were putty in his hands. 

His blue eyes bore into yours, framed by his straight, dark hair. His cologne mocked you this close, weakening your resolve. Your body quivered, barely able to keep moans from spilling out in an endless chorus, singing his praises. He grinned, speeding up his pointer and middle fingers. “Let it out, baby.” he kissed along your collarbone, dragging his lips down to your nipple. A moan hummed from his chest as his tongue swirled it, making you yelp. “I can tell you need it.” 

His coaxing wouldn’t undo you, his coaxing wouldn’t… you gasped as his fingers pushed inside again. You shook your head, face heating. He paused and thank god he had, because you needed a split second to contain yourself. “Want me to stop?”

“No.” You pushed your hips down on his fingers and grinded on them, moans and whines escaping full force. The bed creaked under the impact, a laugh mingling with a moan as you noticed his eyes flash, then darken. His jaw dropped open, beginning to pant. It was water. You were water. 

The room spun. He kissed his way down your torso until he could finally taste you again. Impossibly wet, impossible to keep up with the gyration of your hips and the roll of your waist. His tone tempted the Bat when it got this ragged. “Fuck,” he swallowed hard, as if it were the last breath he’d ever take. And maybe it would be, the way you weren’t leaving him room to breathe. 

He wanted to egg you on. Fuck yourself on my fingers, he’d gasp, but he was worried you’d stop. Somewhere the script had flipped and you were teasing him now, commanding control. You always melted him like this. “Take what you need.” 

The words unraveled you. Your body slammed the length of his fingers, jamming the headboard into the wall without mercy. “Another,” you groaned, feeling instantly fuller. His knuckles, the angle of his fingers, and the pinprick pain of hickeys he stained along your skin made you feral. “Please,” you mewled, threading shaking fingers through his sweaty hair. He’d caught your staggered rhythm; you closed your eyes and submitted to the pleasure of each thrust, as sensitive as you’d ever been. 

Bruce felt like you were riding him; he swore he felt each slip of his fingers on his throbbing dick, his hips twitching in unison with his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Broken curses fell from your lips and you tightened around his fingers. His cheeks burned scarlet. He didn’t know if he was still breathing. Everything in the world left him. 

You didn’t have to say anything; he felt it in the tremble of your legs, saw it etched in the crease between your eyebrows. “That’s it,” he coached you through it, feeling you clench so tight his breathing hitched. “Perfect baby, cum for me.”

Your hands landed on his shoulders, nails digging into sweaty, flaming skin as your climax shot through you. Your hips bounced erratically, Bruce’s fingers still fucked you through it, your pussy a useless, trembling, spasming mess. The white-hot release flooded your brain with TV static, a rush which cascaded through every cell in your body. Your mouth opened wider to free a guttural moan when you suddenly felt empty, clenching around nothing, and his hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling you. 

“They’re back,” he whispered, gulping for breath. You writhed, simultaneously wrestling against the forced silence and grateful he’d heard, body contracting and jumping beneath him. “Shh…” he soothed, his dominating gaze quickly placating your throbbing frame. You blinked down the residual high when you heard the front door shut, footsteps entering the hall. 

“Back from the party! Brought you guys some cake.” 

Hearing your parent’s voice so soon after was disorienting; Bruce paused, waiting a second longer to drop his hand. You stared at each other a moment, completely still, until a smile crept on his face and you laughed. 

“I’ll have to wait a minute.” Bruce sat up, adjusting his sweats with a heavy sigh. Your eyes traveled the dark room, catching your breath like you’d just run a mile. His fingers never felt that good before, his tongue never worked such brutal magic. He interrupted your reverie. 

“You okay?” He was breathless too, his shirt limp and stretched haphazardly. He looked dazed, and blushed when you didn’t immediately answer. “Sorry for teasing. You just…” he turned tomato red. 

“Just what?”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he admitted, focusing on your smile as you leaned toward him. Your hand rested on his knee; his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Come try it, you two.” 

You felt like a teenager again. “I have an idea.” Your fingers trailed toward his waistband. “You better simmer down, or we’ll get in trouble. Cake tasting’s important, you know.” 

“Evidently…” he tried to measure your parent’s wrath against the ache in his boxers, half shocked he was even considering being so reckless. How soundproof was this room?

“More than okay.” You finally answered, tugging at his drawstring until the knot untied. He drew a quick breath, but didn’t pull away.

“I won’t be able to be quiet,” he admitted, flustered.

The walls narrowed to the space between your lips and his. You knew your parents would soon unwind in the living room across the house, unable to hear a peep—but Bruce didn’t. “Is that a challenge?”

a/n: apparently i have writer’s block but not for bruce wayne smut, so here you go <3 i think it’s cute for Bruce to have the experience of parents interrupting something, since he likely didn’t have that experience growing up !! at least battinson probably didn’t, lmao. also he’s a total munch. a real eater. let me know what you think !!

[hikakuriyyu]

hii, I was wondering if you could write about this: The Scream boys discover that the reader has a diary dedicated to pretty much everything about them.

I love your writing.

Scream men discover your diary about them (headcanon)

⁎ warnings: fluff, maybe suggestive ? female!reader. not proof read.

⁎ summary: how (modern!au) Billy, Stu, Mickey, Charlie and Ethan would react if they found out you loved them through your diary.

⁎ author note: hey long time no see ! sorry for being gone so long but i just didn't know what to write. but we have a request ! thank you anon <3 ! im working on another request on tension, and ill be posting more frequently. i might also start posting jjk fics.

Billy Loomis

Billy never meant to find it. He was just in your room, looking for your phone you asked him to give you, when the little book caught his attention. Your name was scrawled on the cover, and curiosity killed the cat. He figured he could read a few pages. Harmless, right ?

But then he saw his name. Over and over. Descriptions of his eyes, the way his voice made you blush, how you caught yourself staring at his lips when he spoke. How you wanted him but didn't know if he'd ever feel the same.

Billy's grip on the diary tightens. His heart is racing, but there's something different in his eyes now. Something softer, something deeper. A slow smirk froms at his lips as he shuts the book, fingers tracing over the cover.

By the time you walk in, he's sitting on your bed. Diary in hand, head tilted slightly. ''Didn’t know I had a fan.'' he murmurs, voice smooth but teasing.

Your stomach drops. ''Billy-'' but he cut you off before you could finish.

He stands, closing the distance between you, the diary still in his hand. ''You should've told me.'' his fingers brush under your chin, tilting your gaze up to meet his. ''Would've saved you all that writing.''

His smirk deepens as he leans into your ear, voice barely above a whisper. ''Now, why don't you show me how you feel ?''

Stu Macher

Stu wasn't even looking for anything. He was just messing around in your room, picking things up, putting them back in the wrong place. until he found the little book tucked away. He normally wouldn't care, but something about it screamed secrets, and well… he wasn't one to ignore a mystery.

Flipping through the pages, he expected dumb doodles or boring notes. What he didn't expect was his own name written over and over, surrounded by little hearts and messy confessions about how much you liked him. How his dumb jokes made your day, how you couldn't stop thinking about his smile, how you wished he’d see you the way you saw him.

His eyes widen, lips parting before stretching into a slow, mischievous grin. Oh, this was golden. When you finally walk in, he's sprawled across your bed, diary open in his hands. ''Awww baby, you got a crush on me ?'' he coos, kicking his legs playfully.

Your heart stops. ''Stu, what the hell ?''

He's up in a flash, closing the book and waving it in front of you. ''You should've told me !'' He grins, stepping closer, voice dipping just a little. ''I love being wanted, y'know.''

His arms wrap around you before you can snatch the diary away, pulling you against him with a dramatic sigh. ''Guess I gotta keep you now.'' he teases, his lips brushing your ear.

Mickey Altieri

Mickey didn't meant to find it. Really.

He was just looking for a pen when his fingers brushed against the little book tucked away in your drawer. Curiosity got the best of him. He wasn't the type to ignore something that screamed ''private.'' And when he saw his own name scrawled across the pages, paired with shy confessions and hopeless little daydreams ?

This was interesting.

By the time you walked in, he was leaning against your desk, flipping through the pages with an amused smirk. ''Well, well… this is adorable.''

You freeze. ''Mickey, put that down.'' you say in a worried tone.

He hums, tapping his fingers against the diary. ''Didn't take you for the hopeless romantic type.'' he muses, eyes dark with something unreadable. ''Crushing on me like this? Kinda cute.''

You lunge for it, but he's faster, raising it just out of reach. His free hand snakes around your waist, effortlessly pulling you closer. ''Should I read more ?'' he teases, tilting his head. “Or maybe…” His voice lowers, fingers brushing your cheek. ''You could just tell me all the things you wanna do with me. In detail.''

Your face burns, and Mickey chuckles, finally closing the book and handing it back. ''Relax, sweetheart.'' His lips ghost against your temple before he pulls away, flashing you a wicked grin. ''I was gonna make you mine anyway.''

Charlie Walker

Charlie didn't meant to snoop.

Okay… maybe a little.

He was just looking around while you were in the bathroom, skimming through your books, when something wedged between them caught his eye: your diary. He hesitated for two seconds before carefully pulling it out.

And then he saw his name. Page by bage surrounded by little hearts, and flustered ramblings about how much you liked him.

His breath hitched.

You walked back in just in time to see him staring at the open pages, his fingers trembling slightly. Your eyes widen. ''Charlie...!''

He immediately closed the diary, gripping it tightly in his hands like it was something precious. His face was red, his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but all he could do was look at you with wide, stunned eyes.

''I-I wasn't trying to snoop,'' he blurted out. ''I just-'' He swallowed hard, exhaling shakily. ''You like me...?''

The silence stretched between you. You were mortified, but Charlie… Charlie looked... overwhelmed ? Like he didn't know what to do with himself.

Then, suddenly, he let out a breathless, nervous laugh. ''God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that...''

Before you could respond, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, desperate hug. His face buried in your shoulder, and his voice was almost shaky as he whispered, ''Please tell me this isn't a dream.''

Ethan Landry

Ethan wasn't snooping.

He was just sitting on your bed, waiting for you to grab something from the kitchen when he noticed your diary sitting there, slightly open. His curiosity got the best of him, so he peeked. Just a little.

And then he saw his name.

His heart stopped. Then it started beating again. Twice as fast.

Flustered, he yanked his hands away like the pages had burned him, his face heating up so fast he thought he might explode.

That was his name... with hearts around it. Did you really write about him like that ? About how cute you thought he was ? About how much you wanted him to notice you more ?

Ethan felt like his brain short-circuited. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, like he couldn't decide whether to close the diary or keep reading.

Then the door opened.

He jumped about a foot in the air, nearly knocking the diary off the bed. You frowned, glancing at his face. Completely red, ears tinted pink, lips parted like he'd just run a marathon.

''…Ethan ? What's wrong ?''

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then, in the smallest, most flustered voice imaginable, he mumbled, ''So... uh… y-you like me ?''

You frown. Your eyes darted to your diary, realization hitting like a truck.

Ethan fidgeted, hands nervously gripping his hoodie sleeves, staring at you like he was terrified but also hopeful.

And then, when you didn't say anything fast enough, he let out a tiny, breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

''So that's why you 'accidentally' came in my room while i was changing...''

[skeetershitbox]

OKAY, so not to ride on the coattails of people who have been saying this for years, but every member of House's original team is a direct parallel for the older crew.

Foreman is Cuddy because although House respects both of their opinions a great deal, he never really listens to what they have to say and steamrolls over their standards of practice for his own gain, personal or otherwise. They let him get away with pretty much anything he wants to because, at the end of the day, they both trust his opinion and diagnostic prowess over their own every time. They are also both willing to give House as much shit as his gives the two of them.

Cameron is Wilson which is explored in the beginning of season five in the wake of Amber's death (ie, "We both got too involved too quickly and suffered the consequences of our all-consuming obsession I mean white knight syndrome I mean love"), but their similarities run all the way from the beginning of the show. The care they have for their patients is dedication to the point of obsession; they lose sleep, not over the diagnosis, but for the patient's comfort and ease. They are a sense of light for House and while he cannot understand their methods of practice all the time, he does value their personal input which they are both eager to give whether House wants it or not (he does, secretly).

It's been pointed out before, but Chase is House, and not just for the surface level parental issues; this man descends into malpractice faster than you can say "I'm pretty sure that's illegal." Not only did he take the reigns whenever House was truly out of it, saving multiple patients, but his blunt approach to healthcare and bedside manner is only slightly more approachable than House's own. He does not like House (perhaps a parallel to House's self-loathing), but he does respect his work and will do whatever he can to prove his diagnosis right instead of arguing for something that makes more sense.

This becomes more interesting when you realize the Wilson and House archetypes start dating long-term AND that Cameron has romantic feelings for both House and his parallel. Yeah, I know it doesn't work out in the end and that Chase is the one to heavily pursue Cameron (which I'm of the opinion House would never do with Wilson), but the attraction is still there.

[greenteaandtattoos]

Whether you see Obi confessing to liking both Zen and Shirayuki as a love triangle or a potential polycule, I think it's so fucking special and important that it happened.

If it does remain a love triangle, it's the healthiest love triangle I have ever seen in media and is certainly the only properly accurate love triangle I've seen. I say this truly and genuinely.

Obi has never shown any jealousy toward Zen and Shirayuki's relationship, nor any interest in getting in between them. He has, instead, dedicated his life to making sure that they are both happy and safe. What truly makes him happy, is seeing them happy.

While he has shown to be contemplating and waiting for the right time to confess to Shirayuki, he has been meticulously careful regarding when he will do so, so that it will not get in the way of or distract her and Zen from their goals.

And if it does become a canonical polycule, well, it's important because it'd be one of the few true canonical polycule ships in media, at least I've seen. It's also important to remember, in regards to this, that Zen confessed back.

Perhaps most do not interpret Zen's, "I've been a fan of yours for a while" statement as romantic, which, so be it, you are free to believe whatever you wish, but in the middle of a romantic confession from Obi, I personally cannot interpret it any other way.

Shirayuki has continually reiterated how important Obi is to her, and how he inspires her just as much as Zen does. How his arrival in Lilias made it clear to her just how much she wants to move forward with her goals of being the best herbalist and "ally" to Clarines and Zen possible, and to earn Izana's respect, by aiming to work as Wirant castle. How him just being there motivated her to truly choose and cement that as her goal.

So, if it is revealed, at some point if and/or when Obi finally confesses to her, that she also returns those feelings, than I know that it won't be a surprise, "out of the blue", or "forced", as I know some people will certainly try to claim it is.

And, of course, Obi's canonical bisexuality alone makes him, his relationships to Shirayuki and Zen, and the confession, extremely special. Bisexual men do not get a lot of rep in media, and if Zen truly does love Obi back, as I wholeheartedly believe, then that would make two bisexual men in one series.

I also think Shirayuki is bisexual, with several instances of her shown to be in awe of, and blushing, at pretty women, including Kiki in the bath scene. So, that makes THREE bisexual characters, in one series, all potentially in a love triangle OR future polycule.

In any case, I adore zenyuki, and while I don't ship specifically obiyuki by itself, I do ship obizenyuki, and whether or not their relationship stays as a love triangle or progresses into a polycule, I'm happy.

[justmeinadaze]

Curiosity (Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: When I tell you that this did things to me...omg.

I was going to do a one shot but there's a few stories to tell with this two (and I love them already so bleh!)

There is a small glimpse into future steddie activity ;)

I dedicate this to the older girlies looking for their own Eddie Munson <3

Warnings: Younger (Early 20s) Daddy (kinda camboy) Eddie & Older (early 30s) Plus Size Sub Fem Y/N, SMUT, SO MUCH dirty talk <3, daddy kink (cause I'm me), praise, semi-public (back of his van), big dick Eddie Munson, squirting, etc. FLUFF, these two work together and talk about being each others "work spouses".

ANGST, Y/N stumbles upon Eddie's "second job" on OnlyFans, struggles with the notion of telling him, reader (like myself) makes jokes about being older, weight doesn't play a factor in here and its barely mentioned. Eddie does say how beautiful and sexy he thinks her body is. I think that's it.

The main angst here is her stumbling onto his account and not telling him.

Word Count: 7874

Donate to Me <3

"Yeah, she's got those pretty eyes

But behind them lies

Thoughts of him at night she can't seem to fight

Feelings that she knows she's gonna have to feed"

A slight draw back was, like your manager, a lot of the coworkers around you were younger, ranging from just graduating high school to their mid-twenties. Listening to most of these kids talk made you feel old as hell which is part of the reason you connected to the boy on the opposite side of your cubicle. 

Your head falls on to your desk as you hang up the phone after one of the rudest customer experiences in your life. 

You hated call center work but it paid alright and it was something you could do while you worked towards your goals of becoming something more. While the work and customers were tedious, the environment wasn’t too bad. Your manager was a sweet girl a little younger than you and the company did a bit more for its employees than the typical “You did well this quarter. Here’s a pizza party.”

While Eddie Munson was in his early twenties, he had a slightly older soul. When he wasn’t talking to you or anyone else, he had hair metal playing in his headphones and even had that long, wild hair to match. He talked about things you remembered growing up with fondly as if he was born around the same time and when you questioned him about it, he just said he was “raised right.”

“Fun chat?”, he teased as he leaned back in his seat.

“Exciting!”, you mumbled into your arm that your head was resting on. 

Eddie’s warm laugh filled your ears as his palm extended out to rub your back. 

“I know, sweetheart. These fucking people can be real pricks sometimes.”

“Edward Munson.”

“Mrs. Angela.”

“Language. Just because you aren’t on the phone doesn’t mean people can’t hear you on the other end.”

You laughed as you sat up, meeting his radiate grin as he chuckles. 

“Yes ma’am, Mrs. Angela. I apologize for the foul mouth I was born with.”

Your manager mumbles a soft mhmm and he continues to smile as he leans in closer to speak at a much softer volume. 

“Don’t let these people walk all over you. Remember, they need your help.”, he winks before lightly poking your nose. 

As the day came to a close and you both walked out together, you asked him what his plans were for the evening and he responded the same way he always did. 

“Um, probably going to put in some hours at my second job. I want to put in more recording time this weekend and the fucking manager at the studio is demanding we put down payments before we can use the equipment. It’s fucking stupid. I mean it’s not like we’re taking the stuff home.”

“One day, you’ll have to let me hear you play.”, you smile his way as you throw your things into your car. 

“And one day you’ll finally accept my invitation to come see us play on stage.”, he grins as he opens your car door and rests his chin on the top while he watches you put your things away. 

“I think I’m too old to be hanging out in a bar.”, you giggle. 

“Says who? Definitely not me because if I met a pretty lady like you at The Hideout she’d never go home alone again.”

Eddie’s smile widens and he sticks out his tongue through his teeth as you roll your eyes. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, weirdo.”

“Bye, babe.”

After he closed your door, your eyes followed him as he pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit the end on his way to his van. 

He really was a good man and utterly adorable. People in the office called him your work husband which gave you secondhand embarrassment till he himself began playing into the role. 

“Hey now Mrs. Angela, don’t talk to my work wife that way. Don’t worry, baby girl, I got your back.”, he joked with the manager as he slid his arm around your shoulders. 

Eddie made you laugh constantly and when you had a hard day, he was your sound board allowing you to vent. A part of you felt guilty because he seemed to know more about you than you did about him besides the fact that he wanted to be a rockstar. 

You genuinely did want to hang out with him outside of work but the insecure part of you couldn’t help but always wonder why he’d even want to spend his free time with someone your age when he could be giving his attention to any of the slimmer, more attractive women his own age. 

The sound of him slamming his car door brought you back into the moment as you pushed your gear into reverse and sped to your home. 

***

“Hey, can I use your laptop to watch a movie in bed?”, you ask your roommate as her heels click along the floor behind where you were sitting on the sofa. 

“Seriously? That’s what you’re doing with your Thursday night?”

“Relaxing after a long day at the office? Yes, Kelsey.”

“Why don’t you go out on a date or something?”

“So is that a yes or…?”

Your roommate sighs as she scurries somewhere before she wiggles the device in your peripherals and you thank her. 

“Don’t judge me when you open it. I was watching this sexy guy on Only Fans. Hot damn.”, she swooned making you laugh as she quickly hugged you and hurried towards the door. “I love you! Don’t wait up for me!”

Shaking your head, you take her laptop and throw yourself on your mattress as you flip it open. 

Images of cute people caught your attention and you couldn’t stop yourself as you nonchalantly began to browse. You had never signed up for one of these let alone really knew anything about the platform besides the obvious. You weren’t a prude by any means, you had just never gone down avenues like this.

There were probably millions of people on this site… so the chances of your eyes landing on a face you knew had to be astronomical.

Yet as you clicked a “featured” link, a face you very much recognized appeared front and center. 

Eddie or as the name read, EddietheBanished, was smirking up at the camera with his upper torso bare showing off all the muscle you were completely unaware he had.

You should have let it go; respected his boundaries and closed the browser but it was like autopilot moved you as you clicked his link.

There he was.

The metalhead was sitting at a desk in what you assumed was his bedroom with his head hanging and hair in front of his face as he strummed his guitar. Shaking his mane, his gorgeous eyes met the camera before that sexy smile painted his lips. 

“I see a lot of new ‘faces.’ Welcome. I’m a nice guy I swear. I’ll be getting started here in a minute so take your time, relax, get comfy.”

You immediately backed out and slammed the computer shut, powerwalking into your kitchen to get a glass of wine. 

“No, no Y/N. He’s your friend and your coworker. Don’t invade that boundary. Don’t…”

As you took a sip of your beverage, you glared at the device that felt like it was taunting you from your bed. 

“Maybe…I can make my own account and just…see what he does. Maybe he just plays guitar without his shirt on. People do that right?”

Sitting back down, you reopened the laptop and logged out of your roommates account, selecting to create your own. 

“Name…name…I need a name…”

Um CurvyCorporateMillennial.

“God that’s dumb.”, you sigh at your internal thought as you upload a picture of a random flower as your profile pic and search for his name after you set everything set up. 

“Alright, friends, you know the drill. You get an hour to ask me questions and tip if you wish. The private group session will begin after.”

Over the course of the hour, you listened to him talk about music and his instrument, strumming along to random songs you definitely recognized, making you smile as you watched his fingers moved. Eddie was incredibly charming, replying off every innuendo with something cute or sassy in return. You enjoyed the regular answers more than anything as he came out of his shell a bit differently than he did at work. 

“Yeah, a lot of these tattoos I got because I had the money and I wanted it.”, he chuckled. “But this one here… I got for Master of Puppets and that album. Do you guys know who sings that?”

“Metallica.”

“Damn…CurvyCorporateMillennial answered that quick. Good girl.”, he chuckles making you smirk before you internally panic. 

“Shit. How am I the only one who answered that, that fast?”

“My mom and my uncle really loved all kinds of music. Inspired me to learn to play…”, he sighed as his eyes went a bit glassy. 

Your heart broke for him as you listened to the sad tone in his voice, wondering if something happened there. He never talked about his parents but to be fair you also never asked. 

“You play very well.”

A soft smile spread across his lips as he winked at the camera causing you to bite your own lip at how fucking sexy the action genuinely was. 

“Alright, we’re nearing the end of this hour. It was nice talkin’ to you guys. To my special group, I will see you in about five minutes. I hope to see you there to, Millennial.”

With that he turned off his stream, leaving you dumbfounded as you stared at your screen. 

“No…there’s no way he was talking to me. There have to other people with Millennial in their name… Y/N, you’ve been here long enough and you even engaged. You need to back away now.”

The entire time you went on the hunt for your credit card, you had that debate with yourself, down to the last minute and point you hit enter. 

When the new room opened, he was smiling at the camera as if he had been waiting just for you before they flicked down to the monitor in front of him. Instead of having a guitar in his lap, the metalhead displayed his palm absently rubbing his crotch through his sweats.

“Hey, guys. Thank you for your time and money. This is where the conversation gets fun.”, Eddie chuckles. “Ask away.”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

You can’t see anything displayed on the screen but you can see the reflection of words glisten within his chocolate eyes. 

“Aha, no. No, Steve tonight. I did ask but he said he’s incredibly busy this week…Ok, JulieGirl, I’ll let him know you miss him. Shit, I miss him to. Man definitely knows how to leave me a mumbling mess… Yeah? You’d sit on Daddy’s cock?”

“F-Fuck me.”, you panted, completely frozen as you watched him reach into his pants and take out his dick to spit over his tip, stroking it along his shaft. 

You had never thought about Eddie intimately like that but seeing him wrap his large palm around his girth had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Fuck, no, wrong!”, you shout as you close the browser and slam the laptop closed. 

##################

“Hey, sweetheart.”, Eddie murmured while his hand rubbed along your back as he flopped down in his seat beside you. This was an action he did everyday which is why he was startled when you gasped and jumped in your chair. “Whoa! You alright, honey? Too much coffee?”, he joked, nervous when you didn’t laugh.

“I’m fine.”, you replied curtly, choosing to focus on your computer in front of you. 

For the rest of the day, you avoided his gaze and kept your head down to work. During your lunch you two would usually sit together but today when he asked if you wanted to go anywhere, you declined and gestured towards your monitor.  

As soon as he clocked out, you waited for him to exit the floor, clocking out as well before following. You hid when you noticed him waiting for the elevator, counting to 30 after he got on and the door closed before pressing the button to ride your own. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you prayed you’d miss him coming back in, your eyes widening in surprise when the elevator door opened and Eddie was leaning against the opposite wall. 

“Hey, um, oh fuck. I forgot something—”

As the doors began to close again, the metalhead took long strides forward and his palm loudly smacked against the bumpers causing them to slowly open once more. 

“Did I do something to make you mad?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Did I say something or do something to offend you?”

“Pfft, Eddie, what are talking about?”, you reply as nonchalantly as possible while stepping around his broad frame and heading for the parking lot. 

“Oh, come off it, Y/N. You’ve barely said two words to me and now you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you—”

“Just tell me what I did wrong—!”, he shouts as he reaches for your bicep to get you to slow down but pauses when you abruptly turn and glare his way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…grab you… I just…I don’t like this…you treating me like most of the people in this fucking town.”

“Huh?”, you inquire, genuinely confused. 

“Shit. I forget you’re not from here sometimes. Um, let’s just say I don’t have many friends. I know we don’t really hang out outside of the building but I like talking to you. It would seriously break my heart if you never spoke to me again.”

Your own heart cracked hearing the sincerity in his voice as his gaze shifted to his feet like a nervous kid. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything. I’m just…I have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”, he asks. “As your work husband it’s my duty to hear about my work wife’s woos.” As you laugh at his joke, a sigh of relief leaves his chest. 

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“Ok…may I buy you lunch, my lady?”

***

You exhaled as you got home and threw yourself flat on your bed, exhausted from the day and your constant thoughts about what you had seen the night before. 

You considered just telling him what you saw but you didn’t want to embarrass him nor did you want to come off like some kind of pervert. You knew he had a “second job” but you never asked what it was mostly because you didn’t want to pry. 

He seemed so hurt today when you ignored him and it didn’t help that you were now pent up, needing a release after hearing him talk the way he had. 

Your phone dinged and originally you ignored it, thinking it was most likely your roommate who was letting you know that she got to work safely like she always did being that she worked a late-night shift at one of the restaurants nearby. 

When you finally looked at the screen, you were surprised to see a notification from the OnlyFans account. 

Your private session with EddietheBanished starts in five minutes.

“Huh? I didn’t…”

Once again you debated with you internal self as you got to your feet and headed to grab your roommate’s device. 

“I can log in and just tell him ‘Hey it’s Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have clicked on your thing…’ Yeah…Ok, Y/N.”

As soon as you opened the browser and signed in, you made sure the camera was off as you entered the session link sent to you. 

“Hey, Millennial.”, Eddie’s sultry voice cooed as he smiled at the screen. “I hope it’s alright. I scheduled this session here. I noticed you left the group thing before it really started and since you paid for it, I thought it only fair to do this so you don’t feel like you wasted your money.”

Your face softened at his kind confession as you sighed and began to type. 

“You didn’t have to do that. You seem very sweet. I wouldn’t have felt like I wasted my money at all.”

“Aw, thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that. May I ask why you left so abruptly?”

“I…”

“It felt wrong.”

The metalhead blinked as he nodded and leaned back in his chair as his palm absently rubbed his tummy, the action in itself filling your own stomach with little butterflies. 

“You’re not an OnlyFans normal, are you, honey?”

“Not really no. I was borrowing my roommate’s laptop and when I opened it I saw your face. I got curious.”

“It’s alright to be curious. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I seem to be unintentionally doing that.”, he chuckles causing your head to tilt. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about my problems.”

“No, please. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just… I work at this boring ass job during the day but the only person that keeps me sane seemed upset at me today…kinda scared me. My coworkers call her my work wife.” 

“I’m sure she just had a lot on her mind.”

“Hm, that’s what she said but…she doesn’t really talk to me about her personal life. I hope everything is ok. I invite her out sometimes but she always declines…says she’s ‘too old’.”, he laughs as he shakes his head. 

The two of you casually talked for what felt like minutes before you glanced at your phone and realized it had actually been over four hours. Eddie opened up to you, talking about his family especially his uncle, his dreams of being a rock & roll legend, and things he enjoyed like D & D. 

“I know absolutely nothing about that game! Lol. I wish I did though. It seems like fun.”

“Oh, baby, it is. Maybe you’ll let me teach you one day…see that pretty face behind the flower…”

“Pfft, how do you know my face is pretty? Lol.”

“Because how can a gorgeous soul like yours not be gorgeous.”

Eddie’s words gave you pause as your breath caught in your throat. He had said it with so much confidence to that you couldn’t help but physically hide behind your hands.

“I hope I’m not being too forward. I don’t mean to make you nervous or anything.”

“No…you don’t make me nervous…I think you’re just wasting that charm on someone my age.”

“Hm, well, I may be younger but I can still be Daddy.”

As he winks at the camera and smiles your whole body comes to life. 

“Eddie…there’s something I should tell you…”

“Did I move to fast? I’m sorry. It’s so weird but I feel like I’ve known you for years, you know? Fuck, probably sounds like a line.”

His hair moves from side to side as he shakes him head in shame and laughs making you laugh along with him. 

“It does but that’s alright. I’ve never done anything like this before. Not just the whole online thing but…the Daddy thing… God, that sounds so stupid.”

“No, no, baby, you don’t sound stupid. May I ask, sweetheart…did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Hearing me refer to myself that way; as Daddy.”

“Yes.”

Eddie’s smile stretches across his face as he bites his bottom lip and leans back in his seat. 

“I wish I could see you. I’m picturing you like blushing and being all giggly. Fuck, the thought of seeing you like that turns me on.”

Your breath shakes at his words as your thighs rub together. 

“You’ve spent so much time talking and getting to know me, baby, I’d like to return the favor.”

“How?”

Scooting his chair a bit closer to the camera, he adjusts his body so you can see more of his lap and chest. 

“How’s this, sweetheart? Got a good view?”

“I can’t see your face very well.”

You vaguely catch it as his cheeks turn a bright crimson and he smirks as he messes with the camera once more so you can see all his face a bit better. 

“Most people on here want to see my abs or my cock.”

“With partners, I like seeing their eyebrows scrunch together or their mouth fall open.”

“Hear that whimper most men try to hide under their heavy breaths.”

“Fuck me, honey. You definitely have a way with words. I like it. What, um, damn, you threw me a bit off my groove there.”, he chuckles as his palm rubs up his pec and over his opposite shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Maybe…we can talk next weekend. I can schedule the session myself this time. 

“Would it be too forward if I asked for your phone number? I’d love to talk with you through the week.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Eddie.”

“Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

####################

You tried so many times to tell him about finding his account and how you were the girl he spoke with that Friday night, you really did. But the longer you waited, the harder it became. 

When he came in that Monday morning, Eddie had a different glow about him as he lightly tugged your hair and said hello. 

The week went by like normal and you spent every day hyping yourself up, finally deciding you would tell him on Saturday after surprising him by seeing him play at The Hideout. You figured he’d be in such a good mood that you showed up to see him, maybe he wouldn’t be so angry after you told him the truth. 

When you opened the bar entrance door, you were met with loud blaring music and a lot of young voices chatting over the music. Mumbling small apologies, you pushed past people to find a table near the stage hoping you’d be able to catch his eyeline so Eddie knew you were there. 

Lucky for you, they were already on stage preparing their equipment so you hastily snuck to the corner and called his name. When his chocolate eyes met yours, he smiled wide before seeming to freeze as he took you in. 

You weren’t sure what was normal for bar attire so you went with a green spaghetti strap dress with matching heels and light make up to accentuate your features. 

“Hey! I hope I’m not distracting you. I just wanted you to know—”

“Hey, no. No, no. You’re not…distracting me…”, Eddie interrupted as he jumped down from the stage to give you a hug. 

Fuck, he smelled amazing.

“Wow, sweetheart, you look gorgeous. I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“I wasn’t sure what was normal or…”

“Pfft, fuck normal.” As his eyes continued to run along your face, you both seemed to realize he hadn’t taken his arms off your waist after your embrace. “Fuck…I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. Usually, I’m a lot smoother than this.”

“Are you?”, you tease causing his grin to reappear as he takes a step back and pokes your nose. 

“There’s my work wife I know and love. Alright, I have to finish getting ready but please stay afterward and let me buy you a drink, ok?”

***

“Eddie, oh my God, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play like that!”, you continued to compliment as he laughed, chugging back another bottle of beer in his grasp.

“Thank you, baby. Now, if you could advocate for us to get more record time so we can actually get something out.”

“Whatever you need. Do you have a shirt or maybe I can get a tattoo on my forehead.”

You giggle as he laughs and shakes his head. 

“No, Y/N. Would be a shame to damage a gorgeous face like yours.”, Eddie smirks as you bite your lip. 

“So, did your mom teach you to play guitar like that or did your uncle?”

The metalhead blinks, slightly taken aback. 

“What would make you say that? My mom or my uncle and not like my dad?”

“Oh, um, we’ve talked about your uncle before and you’ve never really mentioned your father so I just assumed… I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry.”, he sighs as his gaze shifts to the table.  “My mom got me into music but my uncle taught me to play my guitar. My dad taught me other bullshit like how to hot wire a car and how to spend the rest of your life in prison.”

Your heart breaks for him and on impulse you lean your head on his shoulder as you place your palm over his.

“Yeah, this is why I don’t usually talk about myself.”

“You can always talk to me, Eddie.”

The man smiles softly as he lifts his arm to wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer to his side. 

“I’m glad you came, Y/N. It was nice seeing you out here bobbing your head and cheering for me.”

You laugh as he tilts his head against yours and his hand slides from your shoulder down your bicep. 

“I’m your wife. I thought it was about time to come see my husband play his loud records for the youngens.”

Eddie’s throat vibrates as he chuckles through his teeth but you barely notice as you nuzzle your nose into his neck and inhale the smell of his cologne. 

“You always talk like you were born in 1943 or something.”

“Psh, my body makes me feel that way sometimes.”

“Now why do I doubt that? With a body like yours, honey, I bet you feel better than any of these other girls.”

Leaning your head back, your eyes lock with his as your hand comes up to rest on his cheek so your thumb can caress his bottom lip. 

Just as his mouth is about to press to yours, you gasp as you push away from him. 

“Oh my God…Eddie…I’m…I’m so sorry.”

As he watches you panic, confusion floods his face and freezes him in place until you hurriedly push out the front door. Before you make it to your car, a ringed palm grabs your arm, pushing your back against an adjacent van as he crashes his lips to yours. 

It was a messy kiss but fuck did it taste fucking good. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he allowed you both a moment to catch your breath as his tall, broad frame kept you boxed in.

“Please, Y/N. I want this…I want you…I want to feel you…”, Eddie whispered as his mouth ghosted your neck to your ear and your eyes rolled shut at the sound. “I want to taste you and hear all the noises you make, baby.”

“F-Fuck…Daddy…”

“Uh my God.”, he breathily panted as his hand absently reached for the door handle and opened the back. “It’s ok…this is mine…I promise.”

The metalhead didn’t even wait for a response as he lifted you by your waist and placed you inside, shutting the door behind him. 

As you crawled backwards further into the back of his van, he hastily climbed up your body to attach his mouth to yours again. Placing his knee between your legs, you took advantage desperate for friction to relieve the ache making you dizzy with need. 

“That’s it, baby girl, use Daddy’s leg. Fuck, I can feel how wet you are.”

Your fists grabbed at his shirt as you moaned against his lips. 

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart? What a desperate little thing.”

The rhythm of your hips hastened as your grip on him tightened and your back arched as the coil snapped. 

“Good, good girl. Fuck.”

As his mouth attached to your throat, your fingers reached between you two and sloppily fumbled with his belt as he reached back to help you pull his pants just below his ass. 

“Holy shit.”, he whispered as your palm took hold of his incredibly hard cock and moved the cotton blocking your core to the side to allow him entry. “Fuck, baby.”

Your arms came around to cling to his shoulders as his head fell into your nook and he set a steady pace.

“Oh my God, Eddie…your dick is so big…” He grunted at your words as he rolled his hips, pushing his length as deep as your pussy would allow and then some. “I’ve never…I’ve had anyone so… fuck…”

“Tell me, honey, please.” When you don’t immediately respond, he lifts his head to kiss you. “You can do it, beautiful.”

“I-I’ve never had anyone so deep.”

“Fuck, baby girl. Tell Daddy how you want me to make you cum again. Do you want it slow?”, he asks as he gradually pulls all the way back till it’s just his tip before thrusting back into you. “Or do you want it fast and hard?”

“Faster, please.”, you beg as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Eddie does what you ask, his head falling again as he roughly pounds into your cunt. Your fingers tangle in his hair and his own palm slides behind your back, holding you to him as your body trembles and your pussy squeezes him like a vice as you cum. 

“Shit…good, baby. Fuck, you choke my dick when you cum…so fucking tight…where do you want my cum, honey.”

“In-Inside, Eddie, please.”

He started to lift his head to make sure you were sure, but your hand kept him against your throat as you rolled your hips to meet his eliciting a loud grunt from him as his mouth fell open.

His whole frame collapsed on top of you as his pace faltered and you felt his release paint your walls. The strangled groan followed by his heavy pants were the sexiest things you had ever heard and as you lazily turned to look at his face his mouth was waiting. 

Compared to his other kisses, this one was much more tender. 

A soft kiss between two people who had known each other and been friends for a long time. When he pulled back, his chocolate eyes met your irises as his fingers caressed your cheek. 

After a few moments, he silently pulled out of you, kissing your forehead when you winced before crawling towards his glove box and rifling through it. 

“Shit. I thought I had tissues… Ok, um, let me grab some napkins real quick from inside and then…if you’re up to it…maybe we can go to the diner and have some dinner…talk?”

You nod, smiling as he fumbles with his own pants and belt while almost falling out of his van before catching himself on the door. 

“Fucking shit! Uh, I swear I’m more, uh, graceful than that…ok, I’ll be right back.”

################

Eddie was an absolute gentleman that night; taking you to dinner where you got to know him a bit better. Afterward, he drove you home and walked you to your door with a smile that you returned with a soft kiss. 

After closing your door, you looked through the peephole to find him beaming wide before throwing his hands in the air in victory and heading back to this car. 

You dreamt about his arms around you and thought about him all morning, the subtle soreness between your legs a constant reminder. 

“Hey. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you and I hope you’re feeling ok. I have to work tonight for a bit but maybe after I can call and we can talk?”

You smiled at his text before the realization hit you that his “work” was the website and he still had no idea you were one of the accounts he was talking to. As if to emphasis that a point, a notification flashed on your screen reminding you that you had a session scheduled with Eddie the Banished later that evening. 

Opening the computer, you sat there preparing your speech and apology, ready to tell him everything but when his face illuminated your screen it gave you pause. Before when you saw him online, he usual had on just sweats or boxers but this time he was wearing a long sleeve shirt with a Dio album on the front. 

Still donning black sweats, he had his hair pulled up and out of his face making you smile. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I hope it’s ok but I need your advice.”

“You want my advice?”

“Yeah. You seem incredibly smart and with our last conversation I know you’re easy to talk to.”

As Eddie grinned nervously, you couldn’t help but blush as your fingers flew along the keyboard.

“How can I help?”

“Ok, so I was playing my show last night and this girl…woman…I work with finally showed up to see me. I’ve been asking her for months to come and each time she said she couldn’t for one reason or another. Usually because she said she was ‘to old’.”, he laughs, rolling his eyes. “She’s not. She’s probably the same age as you since she’s a Millennial to but anyway… I loved seeing her come out of her shell, you know? She danced in her seat and headbanged; it was so fucking cute.”

As his smile grew at the thought you bit your bottom lip at the sight. 

“After the show, things got…intimate… and, um, so I guess my question is…how do I tell her about this?”, he asks as he gestures towards his computer and camera. “I don’t want her to think I’m like…a whore or something. I do this for the money because call centers pay their fucking employees jack shit. Add in the fact that I still kind of need to do it because my band and I are SO close to finishing this record but I don’t want her to be uncomfortable or feel like I’m cheating or something. I’m not my dad… I don’t fucking know…”

“Honey.”, you type as he covers his face with his palms. “Breathe. It’s ok. The fact that you’re even thinking of all this I’m sure will mean a lot to her. Eddie, I have to tell you something.”

“I just don’t want to lose her. No one has ever made me feel the way she does. At work I get a glimpse of what a relationship with her would be like and I love it. She’s so funny and sweet. Whenever she’s frustrated, her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk and she sighs like she wants to throw her computer out the window. When she smiles, the entire room lights up. She’s so beautiful, you have no idea.”

“Have you told her any of this?”

“Before last night I didn’t think I stood a chance. In my hometown, people don’t exactly like me. The Munson name carries a lot of weight because of my dad. He conned so many people here and add in the fact that I grew up in a trailer… they see me as trash. It would kill me if she saw me the same way. 

“No, Eddie. She would never think that.”

“Then she makes jokes a lot about her age and sometimes I get worried that she’d see me as like a kid or something. I’m highly aware that a man her own age could probably give her way more than I ever could but… I don’t know. Maybe if she can call me Daddy like she did…she can see me as someone who can take care of her because I will, honey. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Sounds like you already know what you have to do :). Just talk to her, baby. She… she may surprise you herself.”

“She surprised the hell out of me last night. When she called me Daddy, I almost fucking came in my jeans. I’m sorry. Don’t mean to be crude.”, he grins as he sticks out his tongue towards the camera. 

“It’s ok lol So it was good? The intimacy?”

Eddie’s gaze shifts off camera as his teeth drag along his bottom lip. 

“We’re friends right?”

“Of course.”

“It was the best I’ve ever had, Millennial. Fuck, her lips tasted amazing. I can only imagine what her pussy tastes like. Shit… It happened so fast I wasn’t able to take my time with her but next time… I’m going take her on a date Friday if she says yes. I want to take her to dinner and really make her feel special. She deserves that. Then I’m going to explore her gorgeous body till she’s begging me to stop.”

 Your thighs rubbed together at his words as that similar ache between your legs lit a fire in your belly. 

Without thinking about it, you grabbed your phone and texted his number. 

“Eddie when will you be free??”

Instantly, you heard vibration on his side of the stream and watched as he leaned forward to grab his device. As he smiled down at the screen, you felt your need for him rise as you watched his long, thick fingers fly along the phone’s keyboard. 

What is it about this man that has you feeling like this?

“I can be free now. Why? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just…”

“Do you think you could come over?”

“Hey, uh, Millennial, I have to go but I’ll keep you updated. Maybe next time you can give me your number and we can keep in touch. I may need more advice!”

Your brain is too foggy to register how that will be a problem later as you type out your goodbyes and he signs off. A moment later, another text from him comes through to your phone. 

“Yeah, I can be there in ten minutes. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I need Daddy.”

The three dots flash on you screen for a millisecond before he replies, “I’m on my way, baby.”

***

Eddie’s fist barely has a chance to knock before you’re opening your apartment door and tugging him inside by his collar, roughly bringing his lips to yours. 

“Ro-Roommate?”, he asks as his eyes briefly notice the two bedrooms. 

“Work…works…overnight…”, you answer between passionate kiss as you tug off his leather jacket and he lifts up your shirt tossing it aside. “Need you…please…”

“I got you, sweetheart. Daddy can take care of you.”

You practically melt into his embrace, backing him into the living room wall and yanking off his shirt so you could drag your lips down his chest as you start to descend to your knees before he grabs your arm.

“No, no, honey. I said Daddy is taking care of you.” With one swift turn he spun you around, placing his palm beside your head to steady himself. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Can I taste you, baby? 

Eddie smirks when you emphatically nod and places a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Can you say it?”, he whispers. “Tell me what you want.”

His eyes stay on yours as he slowly falls to his knees and his palms reach up to pull down your underwear till you were completely naked. While his lips gently pecked along your belly, your own hand reached out to pet his head. 

“I want you to feel your t-tongue in my pussy.”

As his smile grows, Eddie abruptly lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and dives into your cunt, doing what you requested. With every flick of the muscle between his teeth, you felt yourself falling deeper into euphoria. This metalhead definitely knew what he was doing and reveled in it as his tongue roamed. 

“Oh…Oh my God, Eddie. Just like that…” 

Your fingers pressed him harder against you and his moan vibrated through you at the sensation. As he picked up his pace, his mouth overwhelmed you as he sucked and made out with your clit till he felt your body quiver as you came. 

Rising to his feet, you circled your arms around his neck as he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you trying to elongate your high. 

“I knew it. I knew you tasted like fucking heaven. Fuck, such a good girl.”

After pushing down his sweats, you licked your palm and wrapped it around his girth, his glassy eyes fluttering at the feeling. 

Eddie’s free hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could see your face. 

“Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, pretty girl. I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard on my cock. Goddamn, I keep thinking about how tight your little pussy gets when she cums. Fuck, baby, you drive me crazy.”

You suddenly let him go as your hand flew down to grab his wrist trying to push him away as you whined.

“No, no, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. Daddy’s got you. Give in to it. I’m right here.” At his murmured words, you continued to cling to him as your hips rolled against his fingers. “Atta girl. I know, I know. Cum again for Daddy, baby.”

A string of uhs left your lips as his eyes remained glued to your face and your nails dug into his skin as the coil snapped. 

“Goddamn, you are so fucking sexy.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as his mouth latched onto your neck and you carefully guided him to your bedroom while tried to stumble out of his pants. 

“Motherfuck—I swear I can walk.”, he jokes as you both fall naked onto your bed. 

“Well, only if your pants are on correctly.”

Eddie laughs as he pushes up on his forearms to look down at your beaming features. Your index finger gradually extends to caress his cheek and along his chin, grazing the light stubble that clung to his skin. 

“You’re handsome.”

At your compliment, his jaw flexes as he tries to contain the obnoxiously huge smile that wants to stretch from ear to ear at your adorable tone. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I mean it. I always thought you were.”

“Yeah?” You nod, biting your bottom lip to contain your own smile. “You want to know a secret?”

“Hm?”

Eddie crawls a bit further up your frame, gently kissing your jawline till he finds the shell of your ear. 

“I always thought you were beautiful to, baby.”

Utilizing his knee, he pushes your legs further apart as he grinds his cock between your dripping pussy lips but before he could guide himself inside of you, your hand lightly pushed on his hip as you gently pulled his hair. 

His face flooded with concern as his eyes scanned you over. 

“I want to see your face this time, Daddy…Please…”

A relieved chuckle left him; thankful you were ok. 

“You’re going to kill me, honey.”

Licking his lips, you watch as Eddie’s eyes momentarily shifted to the void as he reached between your bodies and pressed his mushroom tip to your entrance. When his irises found yours again, he brought his arm back around and tenderly petted your head as he slowly thrust his cock inch by inch. 

“You’re doing good, baby girl…taking me so he well.”, he praised when he noticed your eyebrows twitch in what appeared to be pain. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Do you need me to go slower?”

“No…No, Daddy. You’re… you’re just…”

“Yeah? Just what, princess?”

“You’re so big.”

“I know, baby, I know but you’re doing so good. I’m almost all the way in.”

“Y-You can…you can go harder…you d-don’t have to be so—fuck—gentle.”

Eddie stops moving for a moment as he smirks down at you before suddenly smacking his hips into yours eliciting a loud moan from deep within you. 

“Like that?”, he teases as he pounds into you again. “I told you…Daddy’s got you.”

Finding a faster rhythm, he kept his intensity as he repeatedly abuses that sensitive, spongy spot deep within you that has your mind reeling. 

Pushing upright onto his knees, the metalhead pressed your thighs flat into the mattress as he watched himself disappear inside your cunt. 

“Shit—your pussy feels too fucking good. Cum again, Y/N. Cum on Daddy’s dick, baby.”

“Something…something’s different…”

Eddie slows for a fraction of a second before he realizes what’s about to happen. 

He sees it all over you scrunched face. 

Licking his thumb, he presses it to your clit as he keeps a steady pace. Again, your hand tries to grab at his wrist but he’s much stronger than you as your movements don’t deter him. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. Daddy’s right here, baby. Just let it happen.”

A wave of pleasure stronger than you had ever experienced before washes over you as the ball in your tummy drops and you scream his name. 

“Atta girl! Fuck, Y/N.”, he groans, his thrusts faltering as he pumps his release deep inside you. “Fuck…it’s ok…you’re ok.”, he pants. “I’ve…I’ve never made a girl squirt before.”

It took him a moment but it was only then that he realized you were crying. 

“Hey. Hey, hey, what’s wrong, baby. Talk to me.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you hug him and he continues to try and comfort you. “Everything’s alright, Y/N.”

“I-I-I’ve never done that before. I…ruined the moment…”

“Oh, honey, no. No, you didn’t ruin anything.”, Eddie cooed as he moved back to allow you to sit up and he could wipe your eyes with his thumbs. “What just happened was incredibly fucking hot.”

“It was?”

“Yeah, beautiful girl, it was. I’m honored to be the first guy to make you cum hard like that. I mean…of course being your husband only IIII can do that…”

At his joke, you laugh as you reach out to lightly hit his bicep as he giggles along with you. 

“How about this? Let’s get you into a bath and all clean, then I can change the sheets and get you in some nice comfy pajamas.”

“Will…will you lay with me after?”

Caressing your cheek, he leans towards you to gently kiss your lips. 

“Of course.”

After your bath, Eddie gave you some alone time to complete any needs you felt you needed to complete before bed and as soon as you were done, you stepped out of your bathroom to find him just finishing making the bed.

“I hope this is alright. I found these sheets in a closet in the hallway.”

“These are actually my roommates.”

“Oh… well…sheet.”, he jests, smiling when you breathy laugh. “Sorry, bad joke.”

“I like it.”

Stepping towards him, you grab his arm and push him under the covers so you could curl up into his side. Lifting his arm, he circles it around your shoulder and you pleasantly sigh as he plays with your hair. 

“At some point, sweetheart, we’re going to have to talk about this…us…”

“Is that bad?”

“No, fuck, I made it sound like it was going to be. I just…there’s some things I need you to know…about me…my life—”

Your palm cuts him off as your eyes meet his. 

“Later. Tonight, I just want to be close to you like this.”

“Yeah…”, he sighs before craning his neck to kiss your forehead. “Me to.”

###################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @twirls827 @micheledawn1975 @chelebelletx @hardladyheart @spiderxbatty @twirls827

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 26/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Hi guys 🥰 It's been a week since I posted part 25. I really don't have enough time to write for you on time, so I apologize for the long wait 🥺🫂 I hope this part was worth it 🥹 Let me know in the comments ❤️‍🩹

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and LOVE you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @ambiee3, @mianhae-baozi, @someoneelse0109, @medstudentlifestyle, @mskookie, @kooccult , @smokinghotstargirl, @curse-of-art @wintaemoonjen (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 25. Gold on the tip of the knife. 

Jungkook walked over to the table. His thoughts were overloaded and he was still there, in the businesses he could never fully detach himself from. He had done too much today. He had gone over the plan for the delivery of the Uranium, talked to the logistics company that would be transporting the Uranium, and decided issues about set up a fake company that would sell depleted uranium to the military. It all took a lot of time, absorbed him, made him keep his mind in constant tension. 

You had been with his mother all day, so he didn't have to constantly apologize for his busy schedule, but even now, when you and your parents were gathered for dinner together, Jungkook left the table every now and then to talk on the phone and take care of important things.

His fingers automatically gripped the phone before he put it away in his jacket pocket. His head was buzzing with endless calculations and plans, but as soon as he look up, all that tension gave way to something deeper.

You. 

He looked at you and didn't like the way you looked. He saw you trying to smile and make conversation with your parents, but you were doing it for strength and he could see it.

Tomorrow, when you get back to Seoul, he will take you to the doctor right away. Most likely, it's overwork from work and studies. He told you to quit that job, but you're stubborn. You made a promise to someone. That's ridiculous. Why are you so righteous? But if the doctor confirms that you're exhausted, he'll go and fire you from that store himself. 

Jungkook sat down slowly, not taking his eyes off you. You gave him a quick glance and looked away. You didn't even smile at him. Are you annoyed that he's always leaving because of calls? Or is it because he's having a busy day? 

Jungkook looked at your plate. It was almost clean. And the panjang you had bitten once remained lonely on the round plate, obviously never to be finished at all. There was a lot of food on the table: baked fish in ginger sauce, kimchi, several types of panjon, beef soup stewed in spicy herbs, rice with chestnuts, and, of course, makkoli. You helped his mother prepare all these dishes, but you barely ate any of them. 

His fingers involuntarily gripped the edge of the table. When your mothers switched to discussing a recipe and your fathers left the table, Jungkook leaned over to you. 

"You're not eating anything." - His voice sounded calm, but there was a hidden anxiety in it. You barely looked up and forced a smile.

"I'm just not really hungry. I had time to taste everything while we were cooking with the omony." - You answered, adjusting your plate. Jungkook didn't believe you.

He saw how you could barely hide your fatigue. He saw how your eyes were a little cloudy. He had noticed this for days, but you kept insisting that everything was fine. He was irritated by your self-sacrifice for no one in particular. 

"Do you feel bad now?" - He asked, still quietly, but insistently, so that the mother would not hear. 

"No, I'm fine." - You said seriously. He saw that you were tense. He is annoyed leaned away from you. He touched the glass from which he was drinking the juice, and just started spinning it. Jungkook ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to yell at you. He was annoyed by everything today, but he couldn't snap at you. 

Suddenly, you stood up from the table. Jungkook watched you stand up, pushing the chair back with a slight movement. Your fingers touched the fabric of your dress briefly, as if you wanted to tidy it up, but he knew it was a habit when you were nervous or trying to hide something from him. 

You said something about being right back, but didn't look at him. This alerted him. 

"Son, between you everything okay?" - Jungkook heard his mother's voice. He turned his head toward her and met two pairs of concerned eyes. His and your mothers were waiting intently for an answer. 

"Yes, mom, everything fine." - Jungkook says, and he doesn't believe his words. Of course nothing is fine. Why would you be sick? "But I'm going to go check for sure."

Jungkook wants to get up from the table, but the phone rings. 

Shit. His fingers tightened around the device, and he pulled it out of pocket, glancing at the screen. An unfamiliar number. The mothers watched with the same concern. 

"Excuse me." - He says briefly and walks into the kitchen. Behind the kitchen in Jungkook's parents' house was a closed terrace. He goes there so that no one can hear his conversation. All day long, he hasn't been contacted about the direct delivery of uranium, and maybe this is the that call. On his way terrace, Chonguk picks up the phone. 

"Yes?" - His voice is unwavering. 

"Jeon Jungkook-shi?" - He hears a man's voice on the other end of the line. 

"Who is this?" - He doesn't answer, but instead asks his own question. 

"My name is Lee Hyuwon, I'm a transportation agent. I was given your number. They told me to contact you about a delivery." - The voice on the phone was low and steady, as if the man was talking about something mundane. Jungkook tensed slightly, looking out the window at the dark sky. His fingers tightened their grip on the phone. 

"What kind of delivery?" - He asked, just to be sure. 

"The cargo you're interested in." - He answers meekly. Uranium. But must be a code word. If he says it, this is exactly the man he needs. Jungkook is silent for a moment, staring at the reflection of his face in the glass of the terrace.

"I see." - He finally answered, keeping his voice calm and businesslike. "Who gave you my contact?"

"Mutual acquaintances." - The man answered without giving specifics. Jungkook was on the alert.

"Did they give you the details?" - Jungkook asked. 

"The highlights. The cargo is special, requires care, and needs to be delivered on time." - Lee Hyuwon says seriously. 

"Okay, but..." - Jungkook wanted to ask about the code word, but he was interrupted by the man on the other side of the line. 

"Jeon Jungkook-shi, I have some samples with me that you could inspect, so if you have time we could meet." - The carrier offers. 

"Samples?" - Jungkook asks again. No one said there would be samples, and that he should check them. "I have no information about that."

The man on the other end of the phone falls silent and hums into the receiver. 

"That's strange. That's why I had to contact you, to arrange the delivery and for you to look at the samples." - The man says. Jungkook raises his eyebrows. This is really strange. 

"I need to know out more information. Besides, I'm not in Seoul, so there's no way I can meet you today." - Jungkook says, already planning to call Jimin. 

"Oh. Yes, sir. I really don't understand why this happened. However, I don't know if my boss not will be happy that the meeting won't take place soon. I also don't think he'll be happy with the fact that you didn't know about the samples..." - The man says. Jungkook tenses up more. He clutches the phone in his hand as if he wants to smash it. He's been in trouble all day, and he doesn't need Namjoon to get angry because Jimin or Hoseok didn't give him any information. He exhales into the phone, he needs to make an appointment for tomorrow morning. But before Jungkook can say anything, the carrier continues. "In any case, let's coordinate with each other on what time we can meet. Because the cargo is not in Seoul, but in Suwon, you'll need to come in person." 

Jungkook freezes. In Suwon? What a coincidence. Perhaps it's fate smiling down on him. Because if he can come now and look at the samples and discuss all the details about the uranium (its quantity and payment), Namjoon will be satisfied. He hasn't told anyone that he's going to visit his parents in Suwon with you. So it may be for the best that he is here. 

"Are you saying the cargo is in Suwon? Where is the warehouse?" - Jungkook asks. 

"On the outskirts of town. It's an industrial warehouse on Gyeonggi-ro. I'll send you the location via geolocation." - The driver replies. 

"I'm not far away. I can get to the warehouse within 30 minutes." - Jungkook offers. He runs his hand over his chin, waiting for a response. 

"How nice to do business with you. It's so good that you are here. Then our bosses won't have to worry. Right? I'll be waiting for you in thirty minutes. I'll reset the geolocation in just a minute." - The man says flatteringly. Jungkook responds "waiting" and disconnects the call. He stood there for a few seconds, staring at the black screen of his phone, analyzing the conversation.

Everything sounded like it was really the person who was supposed to contact him. But why hadn't he been warned about the samples he was supposed to examine? Besides, he didn't know how he was supposed to do it properly. He's learned some of the information he needs about Uranium, but he's definitely not an expert to evaluate the product. Maybe samples to know what the actual product will look like? That's weird. It's very weird. 

Jungkook dials Jimin's phone. He doesn't pick up. Then he dials Hoseok’s phone. There are several rings and the call is dropped. Damn it. He'll call back on the way to the warehouse. 

Jungkook turns around and walks to the door leading to the kitchen. He needs to go to the table and tell everyone that he's going to be gone for an hour. But before that, he needs to find you. 

Jungkook opened the door and literally ran into you. You were standing under the door, looking at him in fright. He froze, just like you. You wanted to leave, but he grabbed you by the arm and pushed you out of the kitchen and onto the terrace. You gasped at the sudden movement. Jungkook pushed you against the wall, locking the door. 

"Did you really do that? Are you eavesdropping?" - Jungkook asks, hovering over you. He can feel the irritation getting the better of him. You don't need to know what you're not supposed to know. You stand against the wall, pale and tired. But your gaze is determined and shows no weakness at all. 

You didn't answer him right away. He saw you trying to collect your thoughts, as if you were looking for the right words.

"I accidentally..." - You say confidently, but Jungkook interrupts you unceremoniously. He doesn't want you to know anything. 

"What did you hear?" - He asks a bit abruptly, which makes you raise your eyebrows slightly. He doesn't want to push, but he needs to know what you heard. You put your hands on his chest and want to push him away. But it makes Jungkook angry, he's not in the best mood today, so he's loses his temper easily. And even you are starting to make him angry. Your curiosity and stubbornness can backfire on you. You're up to your old tricks, and he has to be more careful this time because dealing with uranium is too dangerous.

"Let go of me." - You say, and he pressing your body against the wall. The wall is cold and Jungkook is worried that it might worse you, because you are already unwell. But he can't let go of you until you tell him what you heard. Your palms on his chest, giving him warmth, but your eyes are angry. 

"Tell me." - He says shortly. You stare at each other, your eyes drilling into each other. Right now you don't look like a couple in love, but rather like people who won't give in for anything. 

"I didn't hear much." - You say dryly. 

"I'm not asking how much, I'm asking what did you hear?" - Jungkook insists. His voice is demanding, but not harsh. Again, you just stare at him angrily. Jungkook is late for the meeting, so you have to speak up. 

"I heard you were going to leave. And that it was some about the samples." - You finally answer. Jungkook clenches his jaw. So it's almost nothing. But he needs to make sure that's all you heard. He brings his face closer to yours. 

"Are you sure that's all you heard? Because if you lied to me..." - Jungkook says quietly. You raise your eyebrows skeptically. 

"So what?" - You ask confidently. Jungkook bites his lip, and you can't miss the movement. He laughs when he sees you following his lips. 

"Baby, you better not try to find out. You don't need it. So just tell me everything you heard." - He says with a shadow of a smile on his lips, but it quickly disappears when he looks back into your eyes. "I don't like being followed, especially by you." 

"I told you everything I heard." - You say harshly. Your hand presses down on his chest again, leaving even more heat. Jungkook gets upset when you add. "Don't talk with me like this. I'm not your client, the one you're beating information out of. I overheard your conversation because I was looking for you. I'm not spying on you."

He holds his breath, as if for a moment he realizes that you are telling the truth, that he shouldn't be talking to you like this, but he's not ready to let go of the situation. He knows that you could have heard everything, but for some reason you don't tell him anything. 

He pressed himself against you as much as possible, so that his chest was now touching yours. One of his hands rested on the wall near your head at eye level, and the other clenched your jaw. His lips touched your cheek. 

"Everything is so fucking annoying today, and you're not helping. You walk around pale, eat nothing, and eavesdrop. Do you think I should hold back now, or should I let go of everything that's been building up?" - Jungkook's voice sounds tense and heavy. You can feel his heart beating in time with yours, but he doesn't let himself relax completely. His hand on your jaw tightens, and his breath is heavy and hot, close to your ear.

"Jungkook..." - Your voice is quiet but determined. You try to keep it calm, even though your heart is beating faster from what's happening. You don't want him to understand your emotions, your uncertainty. But he notices it anyway.

He touches your cheek again, gently, but still with a hint of control. 

"Are you forgetting who I am? It's not my fault that you have some problems. We went to parents' house, and you're on that fucking phone all the time, and you're going to go somewhere at this hour." - You say irritated. You try to pull away, but he won't let go of you. His eyes are dark, and his anger and irritation are evident in every movement.

"That's why you're angry with me, I can see that. But honey, I really have a lot of work to do, and it can't wait." - He says softer. 

"Of course it can’t. But I'll wait, right? You can do whatever you want and go all the four sides of the world." - You say colorlessly. Jungkook was torn inside. You really angry. He holds his breath when he hears your cold response. His hand on your jaw tightens, his fingers gripping your chin so hard you feel slight pain. His eyes burn you, but he doesn't let go. There is bitterness in your words, and he cannot lose control again.

"You tell me not to talk to you rudely, but watch how you talk, baby. I'll go all four ways if it's with you." - His voice becomes deeper, almost hostile. He leans in closer, so that his breath touches your lips, and he are already reaching for your lips gently but insistently. You rest your hands against his chest, not letting him kiss you. 

"I don't want you to kiss me right now." - You say even more harshly. He stops just a centimeter away.

"But I want to." - Jungkook says, unrestrained. "I haven't kissed you all day." 

You snort, and it sounds mocking. 

"Have you noticed? Don't kiss me when you're acting like this. Your work is none of my business. I didn't lie to you, I told you what I heard. That's it. Let me go now." - You say threateningly. Jungkook sees how angry you are, but he can't let you go. He really can't. He wants to kiss you. Even more, he wants to fuck you, but wonder if he should? Your parents might notice that you've been gone for a long time, and he's late for a meeting. 

Jungkook suddenly leans down and captures your lips. Unexpectedly, you scream softly into his lips. You didn't close your eyes when he kissed you. You try to push him away, but your boyfriend is a rock. He kisses you, a hot, eager kiss that makes your heart beat faster. 

You involuntarily feel all your control dissipate. But you don't want to give up, you don't want to show how you going weakness in front of him as soon as he kisses you so passionately. So you sharply push him away from you, trying to give yourself some space. 

"Are you deaf, Jeon? I told you not to touch me!" - You almost shout. Your voice is filled with anger. 

Jungkook smiles. He doesn't even let you take a step back. He comes closer again, pushes you against the wall again, his body literally engulfing yours. You can feel his heart beating in time with yours, but his hands on your hips no longer resemble control - they own you, stubbornly trying to make you submit. 

"Come on, my baby. You want it too." - He says boldly and his lips find yours again, this kiss even more impatient, thirsty. He wants your commitment, he wants your attention, he wants you to stop fighting him.

You can't let it go that easily. You respond to his kiss, at first with a little resistance, but then your hand involuntarily stops at his neck, pulling him even closer. Your bodies touch, and you feel all the bitterness that has accumulated between you, but at this moment you want nothing more than to give yourself to him completely.

Jungkook sees you giving in and breaks the kiss and looks at you, his eyes burning with desire. 

"See? I know you." - He slips his hand under your sweater, slides it easily over the top you're wearing instead of a bra. When he squeezes your breasts slowly and with some force, you hold back a moan. He looks into your eyes, radiating cunning. 

"It pisses off..." - You say, exhaling. Jungkook pulls your sweater and top up over your breasts and presses his lips to one of your breasts. As his tongue sucks in your flesh, you hold back a scream of pain. Jungkook tastes your nipple so good. But he wants to feel how wet you are. When he ignores your words and kisses your nipple, he reaches down to your leggings and easily gets under your underwear. 

Jungkook pulls away from your nipple and, breathing heavily because he's aroused, approaches your flushed face. A moan escapes your lips as he massages your clit. Fuck, you're so wet for him, he could enter you so easily. 

"So what were you saying? What's pissing you off?" - Jungkook asks demandingly, subjecting you to sweet torture. He kisses your jawline, and you try to say.

"It pisses off... that you..." - You are completely unable to speak because Jungkook has entered you with his fingers and is fucking you with them. He stretch up the fabric of your leggings so that his hand has a comfortable position. 

Your legs give out and you can't stand. Jungkook is amused by your reaction. You look so sexy. Red, with your hair tousled, your eyes closed in pleasure. He leans down to kiss you. He puts his tongue in your mouth and you willingly accept it. And you return the kiss more than willingly, making him even more excited. Jungkook parted your lips and whispered without pulling away. 

"Do I piss you off?" - He tries to find out. His fingers continue to fuck you. 

"Mhhh." - You moan at his actions. "Not you. But that you turn our fights into fucking." - You finally say it. Jungkook laughs lightly. 

"I never believe that you don't like it." - He says defiantly. "Besides, we didn't fight. We just argued a little." - You can't react because Jungkook has moved to your clit again. You're about to come. 

"I... I don't like..." - You want to object, but you come on Jungkook's fingers. He feels your clit twitch and he presses lightly on it, extending your orgasm. You moan, feeling blissful. God, your parents are at the table, and you, or rather Jungkook, is does this with you. He's smiling, happy to have made you come. You try your best to fill your lungs with air.

Jungkook's hard length presses into your thigh. You cast a quick glance between your bodies, and when you return it, you meet your boyfriend's lustful eyes. 

"I want to fuck you, my love." - Jungkook says. 

"But we've been gone long enough. Our parents will be looking for us." - You warn. But Jungkook has already turned your back to him and removed your leggings in one motion, along with your underwear. He admired your naked ass for a moment, and then leaned over to you, pressing you against the wall. You put your arms at wall for something to hold on to. 

"They won't look for us, because they know I went to comfort you." - Jungkook mockingly said the last word. "How do you like my consolation? Huh, baby?" - He asks in your ear. He takes off his pants and boxers and his warm, hard cock hits your buttocks. It takes him a matter of seconds to find your passage and insert his erect cock into it. You're wet, and Jungkook can feel it with his tip. 

"Kook..." - You call out to your boyfriend, who is already plunging into you. At the beginning, you feel a slight pain, and the way Jungkook is in a hurry. You press your fingers against the wall until they turn white. 

Jungkook heard your soft cries and slowed down, and he plunged more slowly the rest of the way. He moved away from your ear and stood up straighter. He took his hands on both sides of your hips to better control his movements. Jungkook squeezed in out of your passage as much as possible and you moaned. He couldn't hold back his moan either. That beautiful pussy took him well, as always. 

Jungkook leaned down to your ear. 

"Does it feel good, love?" - He asks in a caring, gentle voice. He's still worried that you're not feeling well. 

"Yes." - You assure him, turning your head to him. "Very well." - Your voice sounds like a confession. Jungkook kisses shoulder and then straightens up. He strokes your thighs as if to soothe you. 

"Be quiet, my baby." - He asks, and then begins to fuck your cunt rhythmically. It feels divine as always. Your tight pussy wraps around his cock so tightly. Jungkook fucks you every day, but he's never satisfied. What have you done to them? How do you make him want you so easily?

Jungkook has never felt this way about anyone before. He can't understand what's happening to him. He's never enough. It's like you're destroying all his reasonable boundaries by making him want you more and more. 

How do you so easily overcome his emotionally controlled emotions? How do you seem to be able to make him forget everything else with simple words or gestures? You are not like everyone else. "I'm never enough," is the thought in his head again, and he can't push it out. He doesn't even want to. With you, he always need more. 

You have broken down his walls. And he feels you in a way he hasn't felt anyone before. You are his addiction.

Jungkook fucks you fast and deep, he doesn't have time to stretch out the pleasure. You moan softly, your head tilted down. Jungkook grabs your chest and holds you close. You reflexively put your hands on his, squeezing his it. 

"Where do you want me to cuming? Inside? Or maybe in your mouth?" - He asks, sounding bass in your ear. You moan, his cock inside you, his suggestions, and his hands massaging your breasts. 

"Wherever you want." - You answer, not quite soberly evaluating Jungkook's words. Jungkook smiles with satisfaction. He turns your head and kisses you, deeply, hotly. 

He leans you against the wall and speeds up the movement. You moan with every movement. The friction inside takes you to heaven. After a moment, you squeeze Jungkook's cock with your walls, you come around his cock. Jungkook can barely keep from cumming. He stops abruptly and comes out of you. He turns you toward.

"Get on your knees, love." - He asks. You kneel down, still feeling the waves of your orgasm. Jungkook takes a step towards you and you immediately open your mouth. His length is halfway in, and you start sucking him off. You don't have to do this for long, because Jungkook is about to come. His hard cock is in your mouth. You can taste the salty taste of his and your own cum. 

You pump your head, sucking his hot cock. Jungkook curls his hand around your hair and moves your head. His velvety tip is dangerously on the bottom of your tongue. 

Jungkook hardens even more. Your lips look so good on his cock. He can't hold back any longer. He gets hard as a rock and then he cums on your tongue. You swallow every last drop. He moans above your head, throwing it back. He looks down at you, admiring your position. 

Jungkook stops moving his hips when he's completely softened. He gently withdraws from your warm, welcoming mouth, his cock. A ribbon of your saliva and his cum trailing his cock from your lips. You smile at him. He smiles back at you. 

Jungkook gently helps you off your knees and kisses your lips. Lightly, almost without weight. He puts on his boxers, pulls on his pants, and even manages to dress you. 

"Don't be mad at me." - Jungkook asks, hugging you and putting his forehead against yours. "I'm going to go to a meeting in a little while and we'll talk afterwards, okay?" 

You smile. You feel better than you did before sex with Jungkook, even if it did take some energy. You're even hungry. You pull away from his forehead. 

"It's okay. I won't be angry. How can I be angry after all these?" - You joke. Jungkook laughs heartily. 

"That was the plan from the beginning." - Jungkook jokes back. "I'll only be an hour, maybe less." 

Kongi-ro, 8:17 p.m.

The black Hyundai Palisade came to an abrupt stop at the entrance to the large warehouse. Jungkook took his father's car so he wouldn't have to use his own. On the way to the warehouse, he called Jimin and Hoseok several times, but no one answered. What the hell were they doing? 

Jungkook is almost twenty minutes late because he fucked you on the terrace. This sex helped him partially relieve the tension he had been feeling all day because of organizing the uranium delivery. 

However, his muscles are tensing again, but he is calm. He turned off the engine and turned off the headlights. At the entrance to the large warehouse, a group of men stand, cars and several minivans lined up along the side. 

He got out of the car, glancing at the tall, thin figure of a man in a black coat standing in the center. His eyes glittered coldly in the semi-darkness, and he wore a slight smile on his face, as if he knew Jungkook would be there, despite his lateness.

"Jungkook-shi." - Lee Hyuwon was the first to respond, as if they had known each other for years. "You're late, but I'm still glad you came." 

Jungkook looks around at the people around him. He didn't expect so many people. But these people are allies, he doesn't worry about them harming him. 

"I got into a little traffic jam. I apologize." - He says, shaking hands with a man who introduced himself as Lee Hyuwon. 

"Oh, it happens sometimes." - Hyuwon says in a friendly manner. They fell silent and Jungkook felt an inner discomfort. He cast a few glances around and turned to the man who had made the appointment. 

"So where's the cargo?" - Jungkook asked. It was suspicious that Seongwan was taking his time.

"It's inside." - Hyuwon says meekly. "Please follow me." - The skinny man turned around and walked toward the entrance of a tall metal structure. Jungkook followed after Hyuwon, taking a closer look at everything around him. It was quite dark inside the warehouse, with only a few neon lights creating dim illumination. The air smelled like oil, iron, and something else... Jungkook knew the smell for sure - gunpowder.

His heart beat faster for a moment, but he remained outwardly unmoved. Long wooden crates were stacked on top of each other, and some of them had plastic wrappers sticking out. Hyuwon slowly walked over to one of them and tapped the lid with his fingers.

"Here is the product. I'm sure you'll like it." - The man's voice was excited with joy. Jungkook raised his eyebrows. He took a few steps forward, as if curiously evaluating the goods. One of Hyuwon's men opened the crate, and what he saw was not nuclear material, but precision weapons. 

Heavy semi-automatic rifles, with perfectly polished black bodies, lay neatly in a row.

"These are weapons." - Jungkook says, more to himself than to the others. 

"Yes. Good weapons that are highly accurate and of excellent quality. I've been assured that this is the kind of weapon you use." - Hyuwon confirmed. Jungkook thinks. This is not Uranus. So this meeting is not what he expected. Where the hell did this man come from and why did he think he needed a guns? 

Before the new year, Jungkook bought a new weapons, he doesn't need it. He looks at the boxes and then turns to Hyuwon. 

"Who gave you my contact remind me again?" - Jungkook asks demandingly. Hyuwon is visibly nervous, but he tries to hide it behind a smile, but Jungkook sees through it. 

"Takeshi Tanaka, you worked with him. He mentioned you and said you'd be interested." - Hyuwon says, putting confidence in his voice. Jungkook doesn't remember the name. But they're actively working with the Japanese mafia, so he could have just forgotten. "This is an exclusive, Jungkook-shi. Great guns, great price. Take a closer look, you can hold it in your hands, evaluate the balance." - Hyuwon offers. Hyuwon looks at the weapon and then at the man in front of him. 

"I don't need this weapon. And I don't know why Tananki thought I'd buy it from you." - Jungkook says businesslike. Hyuwon doesn't look upset. But his eyes have narrowed slightly, and he doesn't look as friendly anymore.

"You didn't even consider the offer." - He said coldly. 

"Because I'm not interested." - Jungkook replied indifferently. The people accompanying Hyuwon visibly tensed up. He held the man's gaze, demonstrating his position. Hyuwon smiled, slowly, almost predatory.

"Well, then, you have no business being here, Jungkook-shi." - He bowed slowly. Hyuwon watched this movement. His intuition told him that something was wrong. Something was wrong with this man and this meeting in general. 

"Obviously." - Jungkook said looking Hyuwon straight in the eye. 

"But I'd advise you to write down my number, I'll give you the best prices and quality product." - He holds out his hand. Jungkook looks at it, but doesn't shake it back. 

"I'll keep that in mind." - Jungkook says. Jungkook took a step back, watching Hyuwon's men stand frozen, waiting for further developments. He no longer had a reason to stay here, and he had to find out who the Japanese man was who was throwing his contacts around.

Jungkook leaves the warehouse. He gets behind the wheel and drives away. He keeps looking in the rearview mirror. He can't help but think that this meeting is strange. Hyuwon let him go so easily, didn't even insist on a deal. 

Jungkook pressed the gas pedal, leaving the warehouse behind. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel, giving off a pent-up tension. Hyuwon was too calm. Too confident. And that Japanese guy... Hell, he was sure he'd never had any business with Takeshi Tanaka.

He dialed Jimin again. The rings went on for a long time, until finally the other end of the line answered.

"Oh, kid, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you call." - Jimin immediately apologized. 

"Where the hell are you that you didn't hear me calling you?" - Jungkook asked, irritated. "Hey, are you going to kill me over the phone?" - Jimin muttered. His voice was filled with background noise-people's voices, music, laughter. "What happened? Why three missed calls?" 

"I needed to know out some information, but I've already did it myself." - Jungkook said seriously. He decided not to talk about the meeting with Hyuwon because Jimin would want to know the details, and he didn't want to say he was in Suwon. When it comes to his parents and you, he hides everything. "Are you at the club?" - Jungkook asks, changing the subject. 

"Yeah. At Muse. We decided to relax with Hoby-hyung. We had a crazy day today." - Jimin says, now it's clear why Hoseok hasn't been answering. Jungkook is also having a crazy day. "Where are you, by the way? Don't you want to come over? Let's have a drink. Or are you busy with more important things?" - Jimin asks slyly, hinting that this “important thing” it’s you.

"Yes, I have more important things to do." - Jungkook replies with a smile. "Give me Hoby-hyung, I want to ask him something." - Jungkook asks, but Jimin doesn't listen. 

"So you two made up?" - Jimin asks. He's the only person (besides Taehyung) who wanted you and Jungkook to get together. Jimin and Taehyung have long suspected you of having feelings, but you two denied it, and now you've there, told your parents you're dating. 

"Yes. Thanks to you, Hyung. I guess I'm forever in your debt." - Jungkook thanked him. Jimin laughs briefly into the phone. 

"Not forever, but you will to do whatever I ask you to do. Let's just keep it a wish." - Jimin suggests. 

"Deal." - Jungkook agrees without hesitation. He will always be grateful to Jimin for arranging their meeting in that café. "Then put Hoseok on the phone." - Jungkook reminds him. He drove out onto the main street to return home. 

"But wait. I'm burning with curiosity. So how did you two start dating? Did you start fucking her, and then you realized you were in love?" - Jimin asks. He makes it sound dumber than it actually was. 

"Why do you think that we started fucking before we started dating?" - Jungkook doesn't answer, but asks his own question.

"It was obvious. The way you were with each other. The sexual tension between you was obvious. You tried so hard to hide it, but you couldn't convince Taehyung and me. Besides, I know you were living together." - Jimin replies. His voice sounds like he's smiling. Jungkook rolls his eyes. 

"Jimin-hyung, you know you're really annoying, right?" - Jungkook said with a smile on his lips. 

"Oh, come on. Just tell me when it happened." - Jimin demands. Jungkook exhales. Still, as much as Jimin is his friend, he will tell the truth if he is so desperate to know. 

"After I meeting with you and Taehyung at the restaurant, when we were eating samgyeopsal." - Jungkook says, feeling a little lighter inside, although he tries not to show it.

Jimin on the other end of the phone instantly freezes. He laughs softly, but with obvious pleasure.

"Ooooh, it’s happening that night! You lied to me that nothing happened between you then. But I didn't believe you. Y/N's so cute when she's drunk, I think that's why you couldn't resist that night." - Jimin thinks out loud. Jungkook clutches the steering wheel. He stops at a traffic light and waits. 

"She wasn't cute. You just don't know her well. She provoked me that day." - Jungkook tells the truth about your first time. Jimin laughs into the phone. 

"Really? She can do that?" - Jimin asks through his laughter. Jungkook smiles too. 

"She can do a lot of things." - Jungkook says, and he thinks it sounds polysemous. 

"I don't even doubt it. So what's she like? Quiet or loud?" - Jimin continues, his voice sounding fiercely interested. Jungkook feels a surge of irritation. He doesn't want to discuss what it's like to be in bed with you, even if it's Jimin.

"Hey man, are you really that naive to think I'd tell you something like that?" - Jungkook asks. 

"I know so much about your sex life. Why can't I know the same about you and Y/N?" - Jimin asks, offended. 

"Because it's Y/N. You won't know what she's like in bed because she's my girlfriend." - Jungkook argues. Jimin snorts into the phone. 

"Oh my God, can you hear that? Jungkook is really in love with his best friend because he's hiding everything about her." - Jimin sighs softly, still joking. 

"Yes, I am head over heels in love with her. That's why I don't like the fact that someone else will know what she's like in bed besides me." - Jungkook says so that the topic can be closed. Jimin realizes this instantly and immediately concedes. 

"I'm glad to hear that, buddy. I'm honestly glad you're in love with Y/N. She's perfect for you and you know I've been shipping you for a long time. I'm sorry if I crossed the line." - Jimin apologizes. Jungkook is silent for a while, feeling the tension ease a bit. His heart is still beating fast with emotion, but Jimin's words somehow calm him down.

"Don't worry, I know you were just kidding." - He says, relaxing his shoulders, but still not letting go of the steering wheel. "It's just... I'm not ready to discuss this with anyone, not even you." - Jungkook says, and moves the car out of the way because the light is green. Jimin laughs briefly. 

"I see. I was really joking. But don't worry, my friend. I can see that you're happy with Y/N, and that's cool."

Jungkook feels his heart lighten, even though he knows they won't talk about it again. 

"She's... she's really important to me. I don't want anyone else to judge her or interfere with what's between us." - Jungkook explains. 

"I understand." - Jimin replies with a serious tone, though you can still hear the support in his voice. "You've known who to choose for a long time. And it's Y/N. Keep it up."

Jungkook feels his heart fill with warmth at his friend's words. He hadn't expected such support, but he realizes deep down that Jimin has always been his rock, even if it seems ironic at first glance.

"Thanks, Hyung." - He says quietly. "So, are you going to let me talking with Hoby-hyung?" - Jungkook reminds me what he wanted. 

"Yeah, I'll put him on the phone right now. Just give me a moment." - Jimin replies. Jungkook waits until he's almost home. Jungkook hears muffled voices on the other end of the phone. Jimin must be saying something to Hoseok, and Hoseok is answering, but Jungkook can't make out the words. He's almost home. A few seconds later, he hears a familiar voice in the phone.

"Hey, little one. What’s up?" - Hoseok asks, sounding cheerful. Jungkook smiles involuntarily. 

"Hi. Hoby-hyung, I have a question for you." - Jungkook says as he parks the car outside the house. 

"Okay, but if it’s some difficult, I'm not in the right state to answer questions like that, right now." - Hoseok laughs. Jungkook laughs back. 

"It won't be a difficult question." - Jungkook turns off his headlights and looks out at the street, lit by streetlamps. "Did we ever work with someone named Takeshi Tanaka?" 

Hoseok is silent, obviously remembering. Jungkook hears him buzzing into the phone and later he hears his voice. 

"It's someone from Japan. I can't remember right away. Why? Who is it?" - Hoseok asks. 

"He might be connected with the supply of weapons. Rifles, grenades, and stuff like that." - Jungkook explained. Hosok is silent again, but only for a moment. 

"Jungkook-ah, I don't remember, but that name sounds familiar. Let me find out more information and let you know. Tomorrow." - He adds quickly. Jungkook sees you coming out of the yard. Jungkook hurries out of the car to come to you. 

"I'd appreciate if you knew something about." - Jungkook says. He blocks the car and walks to meet you. You are wrapped in your jacket and watch him as he arrives. Jungkook comes up to you and immediately hugs you. You can't help but smile lightly and rest your head against his chest. 

"No problem. So should I wait for you or not?" - Hoseok asks. 

"No, Hyung, I'm already home." - Jungkook says half-truthfully, not in a hurry to let go you from embrace. "I'll be waiting for information about this Tanak tomorrow."

"Okay, brother. Get some rest." - Hoseok says, and then adds with a twist in his voice. "Or work hard." 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, though you can't see it.

"Have fun, Hyung." - Jungkook says shortly. He ends the call and puts the phone back in his pocket. You lift your head, looking at him with a bit of curiosity. 

"Is everything okay?" - You ask quietly. Jungkook runs his fingers through your hair and then touches your chin lightly.

"Yes, my love. I'm fine. Why are you here?" - Jungkook asks, smiling and gently touching your nose with his finger.

"I went out to get some fresh air and then I heard you drive up." - You answer. Jungkook lowers to your face. He presses his lips to yours and enjoys the softness of them. 

"Have you been waiting for me?" - He asks, forcing your lips apart. You smile. 

"Maybe." - You answer playfully. Something dangerous but tender flashes in Jungkook's eyes. His lips are still burning from your kiss. Jungkook laughs softly, putting his arms around your waist and gently pulling you closer. He kisses you again, unable to get enough of your lips. 

"You don't even miss me?" - Jungkook asks, pulling away just a centimeter to look into your eyes.

You bite your lip lightly, but he instantly runs his thumb over it, forcing you to let go.

"Maybe." - You repeat teasingly. Jungkook responds to your mockery with a smile.  

"What maybe? You must have meant “yes”" - He says, leaning closer to your ear. His voice is warm, a little husky, and it makes you flinch involuntarily.

"No, I probably meant to say “no”. You were only gone for 30 minutes." - You tease him, hiding your smile. Jungkook tilts his head, looking at you with a sly smile.

"I probably won't believe you." - He whispers and kisses you again, this time slower, deeper, as if he wants to commit this moment to memory. You put your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating faster, even through his jacket.

"Do you want to come in?" - He asks when your lips finally part. "Or do you want to go for a walk?" 

You decided a walk. It's a great opportunity to be together and clear your head. It sounds like you both need it. 

10 days later.

You were sitting in the kitchen, slowly winding a lock of hair around your finger. On the table was a cup of barely warm tea and a plate with a half-eaten cheese and avocado sandwich. You took another bite, but as soon as the cheese touched your tongue, you instantly twitched. Something was wrong. Jungkook that you were talking to on the phone noticed that you had fallen silent. 

"Baby, are you okay?" - He was worried. Wincing, you put the sandwich back on the plate and took a sip of tea to kill the strange aftertaste. But suddenly a strange feeling appeared in your stomach - a heaviness, a slight nausea, like a wave rising from somewhere deep. 

"Shit, I don't think the cheese was very fresh..." - You muttered into the phone, putting the food aside. 

"Don't eat it." - Jungkook said. "Do you want me to come over and we'll have lunch somewhere?" - Jungkook offers. You are not hungry. Your appetite is gone and your nausea is getting worse, so you take the plate and put it in the fridge so you don't even have to look at the food. 

"No, love. I'm not hungry anymore. Don't worry about it. Besides, I have a doctor's appointment at 11 am." - You say. The feeling of unpleasant nausea did not go away. On the contrary, it was getting stronger. You felt a little dizzy. You leaned on the sink, near the fridge. 

"A doctor? Ah yes, you said yesterday, that you have planned a visit to the gynecologist!" - Jungkook recalls. "After that you'll have to make an appointment with a therapist to see you. I've been asking you for a week to check your condition. You didn't just feel bad for no reason." - Jungkook says. So since you came back from your parents' house, Jungkook has been telling you to go to the doctor almost every day. He wanted to take you there himself, but you assured him that you felt better after resting for a few days. It was just fatigue, nothing more. 

"Okay, I'll make an appointment. But later. When I have time. When are you coming?" - You asked, going to get a cup of tea, which you didn't want to finish either. 

"If you don't make an appointment with a doctor this week, I'll tie you and take you there myself, and you won't be able to convince me that you don't need to do it." - Jungkook said seriously, but it made you smile. You laughed into the phone, holding back the terrible nausea and dizziness. Jungkook shouldn’t know that you felt sick again. 

"That sounds so threatening." - You said through your laughter. Jungkook exhaled quietly into the phone.

"I'm serious, baby." - His voice was a little softer, but still sounded harsh. "I don't want you to neglect your health." 

You dumped the tea into the sink and turned away. With each passing second, the nausea became more intrusive, as if your body was trying to tell you something.

"I know, I know... I just have a lot to do." - You put on a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice it in your voice.

"When I coming? I'll be home early tonight. Around 7 or 8 in the evening." - Jungkook recalls your question. You're happy that Jungkook can come early, because he's been working a lot this past week and arriving late, when you're already asleep.

You called him often and he didn't mind, he always found time to talk to you. You missed Jungkook because you hardly saw him all those days. But you couldn't really rejoice because of this terrible nausea. 

"Oh, this is so wonderful. I can't wait for tonight." - She said sincerely. Jungkook chuckled into the phone. 

"Me too, my love. I missed you so damn much. I don't know if I'll let you sleep tonight." - He says in a low voice. You purr seductively into the phone. 

"Okay, now I'm going to be burning up with anticipation. I've missed you so much too." - You say. Jungkook takes a deep breath and exhales, probably burning with impatience as well. 

"As soon as you get out of the doctor's office, text me, okay?" - Jungkook said. 

"Okay." - You answered briefly. 

"Now go lie down for a while. Don't do anything." - You rolled your eyes. 

"I have to go to the doctor." - You say with a slight protest. 

"Go, but get an Uber. Don't take buses." - Jungkook orders. You smile. 

"Yes, yes, Mr. Controlling Boyfriend." - You joke. 

"Well, how could I’m not?" - His smile was almost tangible. "You're mine, and I'm going to take care of you, whether you like it or not." 

For some reason, these words caused a warm wave of tenderness in you, which slightly drowned out the unpleasant feeling in your stomach.

"Okay, I'm going to go get dressed. And I'll order a taxi." - You promised. 

"Good girl. I love you." - Jungkook confesses. 

"I love you too." - You reply with great trepidation.  You say goodbye and put the phone on the table.

But as soon as you take a few steps into the bedroom, your stomach twists, and a wave of nausea rushes up your throat so strong that you barely make it to the bathroom.

Standing over the sink, you breathed heavily, trying to collect your thoughts. What was it? Was there really something wrong with that cheese?

Your stomach was empty, but nausea still lingered somewhere in your throat. There was an unpleasant taste in your mouth, and an unexplained feeling inside. But you threw up, and it should be easier soon. 

You slowly went to your room and picked out some clothes. You pulled on a warm sweatshirt and high-waisted jeans, and glanced in the mirror, assessing your appearance. Your face seemed pale, your lips a little dry. This sucked. 

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone to call a taxi. Your fingers hovered over the screen when a notification came through. 

10:25 AM. Tuesday | Sunbae Ji Sung: Hi Y/N. I'd like to see you. Do you have time? 

You raised your eyebrows. Why does he want to see you? You haven't talked to Sunbae since you asked him to get information about the Jungkook’s clan. That was before the new year. So much has happened since then, it's like you've lived a lifetime. Why would he want to meet you all of a sudden? You quickly scribbled down an answer. 

10:25 AM. Tuesday | You: Hi. Is it something urgent? I have a doctor's appointment at 11:00. Can we meet later? 

The message was read immediately. 

10.25 AM. Tuesday | Sunbae Ji Sung: It's urgent, I won't take much time. If you want, I'll take you to the doctor 😇 

10.26 AM. Tuesday | You: Okay. We'll have 20 minutes. Drive up to the cafe on Guro-gu called Passionate Croissant. 

10:26 AM. Tuesday | Sunbae Ji Sung: I'll be there in 5-7 minutes. 

You reply to a message and get dressed. You don't feel great, but your eyes are opening a little bit. By the time you get to the cafe, you should feel even better because you're walking. 

You threw your coat over your shoulders, quickly checked the contents of your purse - phone, wallet, documents - and took a deep breath and left the apartment. It was a little chilly outside, but the fresh air helped you to gather yourself. You walked slowly toward the cafe, trying to push away the remnants of your nausea and headache.

When you got inside, the smell of fresh pastries mixed with the aroma of coffee, creating a warm atmosphere. The nausea was slowly disappearing. You sat down at the table by the window and ordered a cup of tea, which you didn't even intend to drink, because you thought you might throw up again. 

Sunbae arrived a few minutes after you. He greeted you warmly and even gave you a hug as a sign of old friendship. 

"I'm glad to see you. You have become so beautiful." - Sonbe compliments you, but you give him a skeptical look. 

"Hey Sunbae, have you lost your eyesight? I saw myself in the mirror today. I look terrible." - You say, making the sonbe laugh. 

"If you don't look at your eye bags, you've gotten even prettier in the last few years." - He says almost flirtatiously. You blush. 

"Thank you." - You say shyly, touching your hair. Silence falls between you. Tea is brought to you, and Ji Sung orders coffee.

"Love has people's beautifully." - Sunbae say, returning his gaze to you. You look back at him. His expression looks sly. 

"What do you mean?" - You ask. Sunbae doesn't answer right away. 

"Do you remember our last conversation? You asked me to find you some information on Run Noir?" - You listen to Sunbae carefully, trying to understand what he's saying. "I remember when you said you were worried about your boyfriend, who might be connected to this clan. Why didn't you say it was Jungkook?" - Sunbae finally asks. You freeze for a moment. You feel your heart speed up. 

"Does it matter?" - You ask cautiously. You feel the atmosphere at the table change and become tense.

"Well, I guess it does." - He finally answers, still studying you with his penetrating gaze. "He's one of Namjoon's closest associates. You've been friends with him for years, why didn't you tell me you had such influential friends?" - Ji Sung says, almost mockingly. You're annoyed, but you control your emotions. 

"I see you've learned a lot about me. I didn't know I had to tell you my whole biography." - You reply, trying to sound indifferent, but in reality, you're feeling all tense inside. Ji Sung leans back, smiling slightly. 

"Now I understand why you were looking for information on the entire clan. You wanted to see how much the situation sucked, didn't you? So how do you like your boyfriend's activities?" - Sunbae says unceremoniously. You don't answer him. He leans forward a little, his voice quieter, but no less intense. "You must live well on the money he takes from people." 

Your fingers grip the cup so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You feel anger boiling up inside, but you try not to give in to it.

"Don't you dare say that." - You say quietly but firmly.

"Oh, so I hit the nail on?" - Sunbae raises a subtle eyebrow, his smile almost mocking. You stop talking as a waiter approaches the table with coffee for Ji Sung. 

"You don't know anything." - You throw back as the waiter leaves. You try to control your emotions as best you can. 

"I know more than you think." - He takes a sip of coffee, not taking his eyes off you. "And that's why I'm here."

You sigh, realizing that he's not going to let go. You are disappointed by this behavior of the sunbae. He's just like everyone else, looking for an advantage for himself. 

"What do you want?" - You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Remember, my dear, you have a debt to me. And to pay it off, I have a favor to ask of you." 

A debt. You'd forgotten that you'd promised him you'd do whatever he asked in exchange for information. 

"A request?" - You tilt your head, looking at him warily.

"You're close to Jungkook, so you can help me find out what I need to know." - Sunbae says. You will not find out anything for him. 

"What if I refuse?" - You ask. Sunbae stretches his lips into a smile. 

"Then your name will be in a place it shouldn't be. And not only yours, but his as well." - He says as if he's telling you what the weather is like outside. Your breath catches in your throat. His casual tone makes you angry. 

"Are you threatening me?" - You ask with one eyebrow raised. 

"I'm giving you a choice, Y/N. You're a smart girl, you know how to make the right one." - Ji Sung replies and takes another sip of coffee. You press your lips together. Now things have really become even more complicated. 

"What do you want me to know?" - You ask, as if you're making a choice in favor of sunbae. But you're not. You're curious about what he wants to know. Ji Sung smiles wider. You hold back your smile. 

"Namjoon's clan is involved in the supply of uranium to Korea. Jungkook is one of his trusted men who is in charge for the organization. I need to know what kind of transportation and when the first deliveries will be made." - Sonbae replies. You want to hold back your laughter, but you can't. You laugh openly and almost mockingly. Sunbae raises his eyebrows and clutches the handle of his cup. 

"You made me laugh." - You say, touching the assets of your eyes. You're not afraid of Seongbae and his threats, because you know that if you say a word to Jungkook for him, Sunbae will be in trouble. "Sunbae, do you seriously think I'm going to do that? I'm not going to tell on my boyfriend to you. If you want to know any information about him and his activities, please find another source of information." - You get up and want to leave. But he stops you.

"You owe me!" - He says coldly. You freeze near his seat. You turn to look at him. "If you don't want to pay me back, you'll be in trouble." 

"One word from me and you'll be in trouble." - Now you're the one making threats. "Sunbae, I'm ready to pay off the debt, but it's this way." 

He assesses your reaction, as if he's trying to figure out if you're bluffing or if you're really ready to fight back. Ji Sung sighs, as if he's bored by your heroics.

"Y/N, be realistic. You do realize that this isn't just your boyfriend. He's Jeon Jungkook, Namjoon's right-hand man. And sooner or later you're going to get hurt by him yourself." - He gets up and stands close, which makes you uncomfortable. He leans forward, his eyes full of hidden excitement. "I'm offering you an opportunity to get ahead of the game." - You clench your fists.

"You know nothing about us..." - You say angrily. 

"I know more than you think." - He interrupts. "For example, that he's been living with you in your rented apartment for almost a month. And that he would do anything to keep you close. But have you ever thought about what would happen if he stopped being interested in you?" - His words hurt, even though you don't show it. It can't be that way. You love each other, and this man's words are nothing. 

"Stop it." - You say coldly. "I'll pay you money for that fucking information which one did you get for me, how much do you want?"

Ji Sung smiles even wider.

"It's not about the money, Y/N. I could just tell you the amount, but that's not what I need. I need information." - Sunbae doesn't give up. 

"Then consider that I don't owe you anything." - You say, picking up your bag and turning to leave.

"Think again." - His voice catches up with you at the door. "You have until the end of the week. And then... well, I don't want to scare you, but know that I'm not someone to ignore." - You give him one last angry look and walk out the door in desperation. 

You walk out of the cafe, feeling your heart pounding furiously in your chest. Ji-sung is playing a dangerous game, but you're not one to give up easily, either.

You lie down on the chair, trying to calm yourself down as the doctor examines you carefully. The meeting with the sunbae, which had been so unexpected, had turned into something really horrible. He wanted to use you to get information. What kind of information? Jungkook is involved in the uranium supply. While you were in the taxi to the hospital, you read something about uranium and what it's used for. It's dangerous and very bad. 

Is it suspicious why he wanted to know this information? He definitely wanted to know it for someone. Because he specifically indicated that he wanted to know how much and through what means the supply would go. Sonbe gave you until the end of the week. What should you do? Tell Jungkook?

It's only everything was fine, there was no word about Doohoon, but now this Ji Sung showed up and demanded from you to get information your boyfriend. That crazy. 

Your body felt tired, and you could barely keep still as the doctor pressed her cold fingers on your stomach, listening intently.

"Are you in any pain?" - The woman asked in a calm voice, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

"No." - You answered briefly. The doctor just nodded, finishing her examination. She sat down at the table, asking you to get dressed and sit next to her. She was checking something in her notes with a computer mouse. You got dressed and sat on the table opposite her. 

"Y/N, do you have a register care with us hospital?" - The doctor asked, looking up from the monitor. 

"Register? What register care?" - You didn't understand, looking up in surprise.

"The register for prenatal care. You're about three weeks along. But I don't see any records about you in our database." - Says the doctor. You freeze. You think you heard something. It seemed like you were about to lose your balance, even though you were sitting in the chair.

"What...?" - Your voice was weak, barely audible. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest. "By all indications, you're in early pregnancy, so if you haven't registered yet, I'd advise you to do so as soon as possible." - The doctor explained calmly. You couldn't move. You just blinked your eyes, feeling as if your consciousness was separating from reality. But how? You had been taking anti-inflammatory drugs and in some cases emergency contraception every time you didn't take your medication. How could this happen? 

You are carrying Jungkook's child?

This discovery hit you with a powerful wave of shock. You didn't even know what to feel: fear, panic, or something else that didn't fit in your head. 

You are pregnant. How do you tell Jungkook? What will happen now? 

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[pedripics]

One to One: Pedri - Translation

How did the celebration for his dad come about?

“Well, one day we were at home, we were eating with the family, and I had the idea of doing something to dedicate the goals to my family, and because of my father’s glasses, well that came up.”

How are you?

“Good, good, very good. I haven’t felt this way for a long time and now I enjoy it.” - you are always smiling on the pitch! - “Yeah, that’s why. Because many times I wanted to be where I am now, and now that I am, I’m enjoying it.”

Of all the pics in the studio, Pedri chose the one of Puyol kissing the armband as his favourite

Most special match of your career? (question from Gerard Martin)

“Let’s see, my debut was special. It’s always special. Maybe my debut in the Champions League. But I will always remember my first game. Well, I also hope that it’s still to come. But the one that made me the most excited was my debut.”

And this season?

“The final against Madrid in the Supercopa. And on a personal level, I think I played very well against Atlético Madrid.”

What did Hansi Flick give to you?

“Well, I think for players confidence is very important. And what Flick conveys to you is a lot of confidence. He transmits that he trusts you a lot and so you know what you are capable of doing. And well, that helped me. Also the issue of injuries. It’s a thing that’s left in the past and I have that continuity. And like I said before, I am enjoying it.”

Is this best season of your career so far?

“Well, so far yes. Then it has to be reflected in titles, which is the most important thing. But yeah, it’s one of the seasons I feel the most comfortable in. The first one, I think I also had a good season. But yes, so far yes.”

Without the current one, which was your best and your worst season?

“Not counting the one now, I think the best was the first one. Because apart from the fact that everything was new to me, I managed to adapt very well, very quickly and very simple, because I had been watching Barça for many years. And the worst, I think the second, because of the injuries, because as I recovered from the first, I suffered from another.”

How does it affect you? How do you get out of that loop?

“It’s complicated, because in the beginning, well, as you say, you are injured. I’m already recovering and that’s it. And then when you relapse and those injuries keep happening to you, you don’t know what to do, what to stop doing, or what’s wrong in your life to change it. You try to change a lot of things and I think it’s been a process that I have had to change throughout my life. But hey, it’s a process that happened, I’ve learned a lot and now I am enjoying it again.”

How did all the noise around it affect you?

"You try to isolate yourself from what people say, but if you don't hear it yourself, other people say it to you, that you go out partying, that you don't work hard in the gym…. It's a lie, you don't have to give it importance, but it affects you. I train the same, I have changed the way, but not the time I dedicate to it".

Rest?

“I prefer to play for half an hour every week and in every match, rather than resting by not participating in matches at all.”

How hard is it to overcome mental struggles?

“Yeah, I think a player when he gets into that loop of struggles, it’s hard to get out. But I was able to and now I am happy! That’s it. I am happy, looking forward to continuing to enjoy it and to play.”

To what extent have Hansi and his staff helped you?

“Well, I think the people who came into the gym, the way they train, I am doing much better. We managed to nail it with the physios, conditioning and such, with what’s best for my body, what is better to train for me personally, and I think they have a lot to do with that.”

About the Fantasy League

“I stopped playing, man. I had me and I had Raphinha. They took Raphinha from me, they took me… So I stopped playing. My friends take it very serious. They say no mega clauses or anything.”

Doncic NBA drama

“I wasn’t expecting it. I don’t think anyone expected it, but together with LeBron they could do nice things.”

About his renewal:

“The club wanted it, I wanted it, and then it’s easy for everything to happen. They spoke, they more or less agreed and everyone was happy. “

Did you expect to wear this jersey until 2030?

“No, I didn't expect it. I didn’t even expect next years not to have a number. When I arrived here, at first I was sleeping in a hotel, I was staying at there with my brother and I was always telling him: "Wow, I had a good training session, I hope I get lucky and stay here." We talked about it a lot, until Koeman came to tell me that I was staying. And from that day until today, everything changed.”

You’re already a veteran. Do you feel like it?

“I am already worn out mate (laughs). Yes it’s true that there are a lot of young people and for the length I’ve been at the club now, maybe I am a veteran. Not by age, but by time at club. And yes, inside the locker room I feel like I have weight, that I am someone important, but in that locker room you cannot be too serious either. The secret is to have a good time both inside and outside. We are always smiling and I think that comes through later when it comes to playing.”

About fans enjoying to see them play

“Yeah, I think the fans enjoy it because we’re enjoying it on the pitch. We try and make it a show for the people who go to the games. And when we win, it’s even better. In games like against Atlético when we lost, people were happy with the way the team played.”

About Pedro

“As a kid, I always cheered him on, because he was from home, from the same place, and I was lucky to be able to meet him. He is a great guy, very funny, like a good Canarian. As a player, there’s nothing that people don’t already know. He is spectacular. How he played, how he dribbled, how he scored goals with both feet. I really enjoyed watching him.”

About his nickname Pedri Potter

“I’ve never seen Harry Potter, really. They always call me Pedri Potter, but I’ve never seen it to be honest.”

What is the future at the club?

“Well, I, from what I see, I think it’s going to be a good future, I think we have a good team. Personally, I hope to continue enjoying football, in the end, that’s what every player wants. Let’s win titles, it’s what Barça needs.”

About the season so far

“I think playing like we are, we’re on the right track to get titles. And well this year, why not?We’ve already won one, we are alive in all the others, so why not go for them all?”

What did it mean to you to be captain?

“It was in El Sadar. Also last year in the Champions League. If someone would’ve told me as a kid, I wouldn’t have believed them. I’d say ‘you’re crazy’. But it’s a pride. I think, already just being at Barça for me has always been the best. Imagine wearing the captains armband.”

Barça’s style seems to suit you

“Yeah, I always saw it when I was little and I was trying to learn from it. And well, I guess something about watching so many games has stayed. And well, that’s a lot of my father’s fault as well, who’s a lifelong Barça fan, I always supported Barça and we always watched the games together.”

About his family

“Without my family, without my father, my mother and my brother, I think it would’ve been impossible to get to where I am today. I hope they will be by my side, safe and sound, for everything that is still to come. Enjoying it with them is the best.”

Is the Liga still alive?

“People, when we lose two or three games, and they get a few points ahead… But yeah, it’s true that we messed up a bit. But hey, there are a lot of games left, a lot of points at stake and if we win the rest of the season, I am sure we can be champions.”

Can we dream of la sexta?

“Well, why not? Dreaming is always free. But hey, it’s true that in other years it was complicated. In the big games we usually didn’t play a good match, we didn’t usually win. I think this year it’s been the complete opposite. I think in the big games we’re showing what we can do, we’re playing good games, dominating them and winning them.”

What is Pedri like in victory and in defeat?

“Depends on what you’re playing. But if it’s in football, Pedri in victory is very happy, very happy. And in defeat, so angry. Mostly, I get angry with myself, if I could’ve done anything else, if i could have improved, maybe changed something in what I had done. And then I try to find solutions for myself and for the team.”

[mimikoolover]

”examples of times when JK has been supportive of jimin? especially his solo work? or has shown up for him. Genuinely wondering ”

…..anon seriously? The real question here is what counts as being supportive and showing up in your book, and why are you assuming your book is jimin’s book? If jk went to jimin’s tv performances like hobi and yoongi, would that have changed things? Why is that the only way to be supportive? Genuinely wondering?

bro has been vibing to jimin solo songs in lives/random content since forever, especially 2023. Long before then you have examples like the serendipity obsession, countless instances of watching jimin rehearse it, saying his song was his favorite, using lyrics from it to describe what Jimin is to him. Being someone jimin claimed always made him smile and feel better when he was down? Always taking pictures of, filming, and editing Jimin, more than any other member? Praising his dancing, his visuals, his work ethic, literally admiring him? Being the one who was there when jimin opened up to the cameras about his depression? Comforting him when he tears up, being personally affected by him crying or not being okay? Sometimes appearing to be the only one who knows Jimin well enough to know where his boundaries are, when he’s okay with bantering and teasing and when it goes too far (example - post unga speech live, post on:e concert, last 2023 live) In 2023 saying to look forward to the SMF teaser at midnight calling it ”something amazing”? Another whole ass live dedicated to watching jimin, mostly solo work? Talking about jimin in pretty much every live ever? Watching his dance rehearsal in person?Commenting on his tiktok dances? Planning to cook for him and doing it? Asking to do lives with him all through 2023? Popping in during his production diary live saying he’ll watch it too?(idc if he actually did but you want public support right??) Could go into ays details but this is getting long… but in the end we have jk being the one jimin chose to enlist with and said many times it’s reassuring to have, that they can lean on eachother, that time goes by faster because he’s by his side?

It’s not that jokers can’t list things, it’s that they know there’s no point. Because yall already know it all and you choose to downplay it. You don’t care about what Jimin clearly values in someone close to him. You only care about what YOU see as support, and no matter how many examples you see of what jk has done, it’ll never be enough. So this was a waste of time. Bye.

listing it may be a waste for people choosing to be willingly ignorant but as a jikooker it's really lovely reading all the things jikook do for each other💖