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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Nineteen - They Tell The Kids

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

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Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

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Normal text = Reader Italics = Daniel

"Milo."

"Olivia."

"I need to talk to you about something."

"There's something we should talk about."

In two separate houses, Milo and Olivia looked up at their parents. Olivia looked at her dad with curiosity as he sat with her on her pink, princess bed. Milo couldn't describe the feeling of anxiety that bubbled up in his stomach as he and his momma sat at the kitchen table. He'd never felt like this before.

Daniel grabbed one of Olivia's teddy bears. He played with it fidgeting with it as he spoke. "You know how Milo and his momma are coming with us to Monaco?" He asked and Olivia nodded her head. "Do you know why they're coming with us?"

"Munchkin," Y/N began as she placed Milo's hot chocolate down in front of him. "You know how Mr Ricciardo invited us to go to Monaco with him and Olivia?" She asked and Milo nodded his head. "Well, there's a reason they invited us to go with them."

"Is it because you're dating?" Olivia asked her father. She grabbed the teddy bear Daniel had been fiddling with and held it close to her body.

Milo grabbed his hot chocolate, the chocolatey liquid hidden by cream and marshmallows. "What's the reason, momma?" He asked and sipped at his drink, leaving a small whipped cream moustache on his top lip.

"Yeah, Badger. Did Milo say anything?"

"Well, Miley, Mr Ricciardo and I are... together."

Olivia shook her head. "My mummy was asking me if you and Miss L/N are together."

Milo damn near choked on his hot chocolate. His hands were shaking, perhaps from how hot the mug was, as he put it down onto the table in front of him. "What does that mean?" He asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Daniel couldn't stop himself from frowning. "Your mother has been asking about Y/N?"

"Well, Munchkin, we are gonna be spending a lot more time with Daniel and Olivia," Y/N said.

Nodding her head, Olivia put her teddy down. She perked up instantly. "So does that make Milo my brother?"

Milo looked down at his lap. He sucked in a breath, trying his best not to cry. He hated crying. He hated how tight his face felt, how heavy his chest felt after he cried. "I-I don't want that."

Daniel laughed. He stood up and grabbed Olivia's hand as she jumped down from the bed. "Not yet, Badger. Maybe one day," he said and took down downstairs.

Y/N stood from her seat and walked around the table. "Milo, munchkin," she whispered as she crouched down to his height. She opened her arms wide and let her fall into them. "Talk me through it, baby, c'mon," she said to him as she rubbed his back.

"So, is miss L/N telling Milo right now?" Olivia asked as she and Daniel sat down for dinner.

"I don't want a dad," he said, crying against his mothers shoulder. "I know how to have a dad."

"I bet she is, Badger. What do you think of Y/N?" He asked her.

She held Milo tight, moving her fingers through his short hair in a soothing manner. "Mr Ricciardo isn't gonna come in and try and be your dad. He's not gonna be scary and loud and he's not gonna try bossing you around. He just wants to be there for us, just like we want to be there for him and Olivia."

"I like her," Olivia said as she twirled her fork in her spaghetti. She tried to eat the same as her father, but there were some meals she couldn't stand. So, while Daniel had his incredibly healthy meals designed for athletes, she was eating spaghetti and meatballs. "She's really cool."

Milo sniffled, but his crying had pretty much stopped. "Do you think we could try it?" Y/N asked her son. He nodded his head and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. If he was really unhappy, she'd leave Daniel, put Milo first.

"Can we all go out to dinner soon?" Olivia asked, pushing her meatball through the spaghetti sauce.

"We're gonna have a great time in Monaco with Daniel and Olivia, Munchkin," said Y/N as she got started on dinner. "Are you looking forward to it?"

"We'll take them out for dinner in Monaco, yeah Badger?" Daniel asked and Olivia quickly nodded her head.

"Yeah, momma," said Milo, but he didn't sound as excited as Y/N hoped. She didn't comment on it, instead sending him to go and get his colouring books while she made dinner.

***

It was their last day of daycare, the last time Y/N and Daniel would be picking the kids up from daycare. She tried not to get emotional as she and Daniel waited for them to walk out of the gates.

It had been a week since they had told the kids about the beginning of their relationship. Where Daniel thought telling them would mean he and Y/N could stand together, he could hold her hand or have his arm around his shoulder, she stood just out of reach.

But then she started getting emotional. "Fuck," she whispered before the kids walked through the gates.

Daniel rolled his eyes. In the least judgemental way, he rolled his eyes at her. "C'mere," he said and placed his arm around her. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. He got it though, he understood. Their kids were growing up so fast.

Milo and Olivia walked out of daycare side by side. They each had these giant folders full of their art work from the last year. "Momma!" Milo shouted. He went running towards his mother, holding his folder out towards her. "I got all of my drawings back!"

Y/N quickly wiped under her eyes. "That's great, munchkin!" She said and took the folder from him. "Do you wanna show me when we get home?"

He nodded his head and grabbed a hold of his mothers hand.

Daniel grabbed Olivia's folder from her. "Hey Badger," he said, grabbing her hand. He crouched down and turned his attention towards Milo. "Are you all packed for tomorrow, Milo?" He asked, his smile kind.

Milo nodded his head.

Deciding not to push him for more, Daniel stood up straight. "You guys can come stay tonight," Daniel offered Y/N. "If not, it's okay. Olivia and I can pick you guys up in the early hours of the morning."

Y/N looked down at her son. He was gripping his mothers hand, standing so close to her. "I'll let you know," she said and squeezed Milo's hand.

They didn't kiss and say goodbye. Even if Daniel wanted to kiss her before they went to their cars, he didn't. He held back, didn't want to upset Milo in any way.

Y/N took Milo to her car and Daniel took Olivia to his. He buckled her in, placed her bags in the back and set off home. "Let's get you packed for Monaco and Texas, yeah Badger?" Daniel said as he pulled out of the car park.

"Daaaaad," Olivia started, kicking her feet. He looked at her in the rear view mirror. "Can't Milo and Miss L/N come with us to Texas?" She asked.

Daniel shook his head. "Sorry Badger, but Y/N has got to work. She doesn't get the same break as I do," he said.

"Why doesn't she just do your job then?" Olivia asked, wearing a frown.

Daniel let out something like a sad laugh. "I don't think she wants to be a Formula One driver, Badger."

"Well, I do," Olivia mumbled under her breath.

In Y/N's car, she took her time buckling Milo into his car seat. "Munchkin, do you wanna have a sleepover with Olivia?" She asked. She had finished buckling his seatbelt and stayed there for a moment, just talking to him before they drove off.

"Yeah, momma," Milo said quietly.

This time, that wasn't good enough for Y/N. "Come on, Munchkin, talk to me," she said, moving his hair away from his forehead. "What's upsetting you?"

Milo shook his head. "Can I take my colouring books to Monaco?"

"Of course you can. Maybe you and Olivia can do some colouring together."

Milo nodded his head. "I'd like that," he said. It was only when a small smile graced his features that Y/N stood up and climbed into the drivers seat of the car, taking him home.

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cevansbrat0007 · 12 days

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What's Eating You, Mr. Barber?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to check out Ari Levinson's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Bickering, Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Daddy Kink, Allusions to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s hard for you to put into words just how much you love playing pranks on your unsuspecting husband. And after downloading TikTok, you’d discovered that the app was home to an online treasure trove of practical jokes designed to make your loved one’s head spin. While it had taken a few days for you to settle on the right prank, you were pretty confident that the one you’d chosen would earn you a fun reaction from Andy without you having to risk your ass in the process.

You find yourself grinning as you take your time prepping dinner, humming a little tune as you peel and press even more fresh garlic for your homemade tomato sauce. Tonight’s family dinner of spaghetti and meatballs promised to be very interesting. Which was why you’d also taken the liberty of setting up two hidden cameras – one in the dining room and one right here in your kitchen.

As of now, you had no plans to post this on your channel. But you also didn’t want to miss a minute of your man’s reaction. Until then all you had to do was play it cool for a couple more hours.

Later that Evening…

“Baby Girl, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Your husband asks after watching you make what easily had to be your third trip from the kitchen into the dining room.

Any other night you would’ve said yes, but not this one. Tonight you were flying solo. The cameras were already on and recording – you’d taken care of that before you’d started setting the table – and so far Andy hadn’t noticed a thing.

Hopefully you’d be able to keep it that way until it was time for the big reveal.

“No thanks, Big Man. This Mama only has to make one more trip and then we’ll be ready to eat.” You tell him before sitting two plates on the table in front of your two youngest children. You were down a kid tonight thanks to your oldest, Bianca, being away at a sleepover.

Andy nods before leaning over to adjust the small hand towel you’d previously tucked into the front of your three-year-old son’s t-shirt. Not that it really mattered all that much since you were positive he’d be swimming in sauce before the meal was over. But what kind of mother would you be if you didn’t at least try?

Biting your lip in anticipation, you scamper back into the kitchen to grab dinner for you and your husband. Andy’s plate was piled high with a generous serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Meanwhile, you give yourself hardly any.

And therein was the so-called prank. Earlier this week, you’d spent the better part of several hours gleefully watching as dozens of girlfriends and wives proceeded to serve their man impressive looking portions before sitting next to them with virtually empty plates for themselves. Many of the reactions had ranged from hilarious to heartwarming, with only a few dickish exceptions.

Glancing over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t being watched, you pick up various pans and quietly place them in your oven and out of sight. For this to actually work, Andy would have to believe that there wasn’t enough for seconds or leftovers. Once that’s done, you square your shoulders and confidently march back into the dining room with dishes in hand.

“I’m back.” You announce, placing a piping hot plate in front of Andy before taking your own seat at the table. “I tried something different with my sauce this time, so everybody dig in and tell me what you think.”

Andy absentmindedly rubs his palms together as he stares down at the fragrant heap of spaghetti before him. Silently, you will him to look over at what you’d served yourself, but you force yourself to remain quiet so as not to give yourself away.

“This smells amazing, sweetheart.” Your husband tells you, reaching for a piece of garlic bread. “I’ve been excited for this meal since you told me you texted me at 10:00am.”

“Glad to hear it, Daddy” You pick up the little bowl of parmesan you’d set out and hand it to your middle daughter, Katrina. “What does everybody else think?”

You take a brief glance around the table while you wait for feedback. And although you make a point of not looking at your husband, it’s impossible to miss the way he’s now staring at your nearly empty plate.

“Ooh.” You inwardly squeal, stopping just short of clapping your hands. “It’s starting!”

“What’s up with this?” His tone is rife with confusion, which only grows when you decide to ignore him in favor of dipping a small piece of bread into some sauce. “Hey – stop!”

“What?” When you finally deign to return his gaze. You have to choke back a laugh as you watch a bewildered Andy comically gesture between your two plates.

“What the fu–fudge,” he swiftly corrects, “is going on with your plate?”

“What do you mean?” You aim to keep your tone light and breezy.

Your husband lets out a frustrated sigh. “Where’s the rest of your food?” He jabs at your plate with his fork, holding up the half of a meatball you’d allowed yourself.

“This was all that was left.” You tell him with a shrug.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His confusion continues to mount even as pauses long enough to grab a napkin to wipe at his son’s increasingly messy fingers. “There was plenty of spaghetti left on the stove.” While he’s occupied you quickly check on little Rory, who appears to be faring slightly better.

“Not really.”

“Baby…” Andy pins you with a knowing look, one that you readily return.

“What? I…” You trail off, pretending to think. “After I realized BiBi wouldn’t be here tonight, I made some adjustments to the recipe. Turns out I didn’t make enough, so…” Another shrug. “This was all there was after I made everyone else’s plates.”

Andy is uncharacteristically quiet as leans back in his chair. Meanwhile, your children are busy staring at you, each of them sporting tiny, furrowed brows. Pursing your lips, you set your fork down on your plate and reach for your drink.

“You can have some of mine, Mama.” KitCat offers before sweetly pushing her plate towards you. The unexpected gesture touches your heart in more ways than one. Not to be outdone, your three-year-old twins also follow suit.

“That’s okay, babies. I’m perfectly fine.” You reassure them, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Besides, this is all I need and –”

“Thanks kiddos.” Your husband kindly interrupts as he places his napkin on the table. “That was very sweet of you, wanting to take care of your Mama like that.” His brilliant blue eyes beam with pride as he speaks. “But Daddy’s got this one.”

You’re momentarily taken aback when he stands, picking up his plate as he does. And you’re even more surprised when he motions for you to do the same.

“Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Andrew, sweetheart, it’s okay. I promise.”

“Now, please.” It’s an order, that much you know. But at least your handsome ogre has enough sense to take on the word “please” at the end of it.

“Fine.” You huff before standing and following him out of the room, although not before encouraging your children to keep eating while you’re gone. Just because it was Friday doesn’t mean it was time to dispense their normal bedtime routines.

You were only playing a prank, not embracing total anarchy.

Once in the kitchen, you each take up residence in opposing corners. But of course, you’re careful enough to avoid blocking the view of the camera.

“Baby Girl.” Andy exhales, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you really mean to tell me that there’s no food left? You really made all that pasta and there’s nothing?”

“Yes, Andrew.” You lie without missing a beat. “I already told you. I trimmed down the recipe because –”

“Because Bianca is gone. Yes, I heard you.” He sets his dish down on the counter, openly scrutinizing it.

“So then what’s the problem?” You rest your back against your pantry while you wait for him to respond.

“The problem – my problem –” Andy is quick to amend, shaking his head. “– is that you expect me to sit back and watch you starve while everyone else eats. And I don’t like it.” He scrubs a weary hand over his beard. “Hand me your plate, beautiful.”

“Why?” It’s impossible to keep the suspicion out of your voice.

“Because I don’t need all of this.” He grunts, taking the plate out of your hands when you don’t comply fast enough. “In fact, I don’t need any of it. You eat and I’ll order myself a pizza after we put the kids down.”

“Andy!” You scoff, which comes out on the heels of a laugh.

“What?” The man is clearly confused by your dismissal of his offer. “I am capable of handling myself, okay? My hands work just fine.” He grates out, making a show of holding up a large, lightly calloused palm.

“But I…I made that plate for you.” You were seconds away from caving and you both knew it.

“And I’m telling you, my wonderful wife, that I want you to have it.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to –” You begin, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was time to fess up.

“Fine.” Andy breathes, taking a second to roll his broad shoulders. “Then we’ll split it.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you into his warm embrace so that he can whisper in your ear. “And then, after we put the kids down, we’ll order ourselves a pizza. Maybe open up a bottle of wine while we wait.”

“Yeah?” You murmur, relaxing as you bury your face in his chest.

God, he always smelled so good.

“Mhm.” He continues, nuzzling his nose against your curls. “And then, once we’re all giggly and buzzed, I’ll convince you to let me make love to you in front of the fireplace. We can even set up a booby trap so that we pretend like the children don’t exist.”

“Wow.” You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles its way past your lps. “Andy Bear, that sounds amazing. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” He rumbles as his brawny arms tighten around your smaller frame. You were pushing your District Attorney beyond his breaking point.

“Because.” Squirming out of his hold, you dance your way towards the oven in preparation for the big reveal. Hopefully your husband would be a good sport about all of this.

“Because?”

“Because…” You draw out the word, even as you go to open the oven to show him what’s inside. “There’s actually plenty of dinner leftover. See?” You throw your arms wide, but force yourself to stop just short of adding spirit fingers because you suspected he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Baby, I swear…” Andy sighs, his hands slowly sinking into the pockets of his charcoal-colored slacks as he rocks back on his heels. Most likely to keep himself from strangling you, his lovely wife. “Why–what would possess you to lie about something like this?”

“First off, sweetheart, it’s called a prank.” You bridge the gap between your bodies so that you can wrap your arms around his trim waist. “And secondly, I saw it on TikTok. Ever heard of it?”

He glares down at you, which has you instinctively clenching your thighs together. That’s part of the reason you loved riling up your Big Man.

Being a brat got your motor running.

“I take it you have.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss away his frown. “Well, I fell down the rabbit hole the other day while the kids were napping. There’s this whole, like, subsection that’s just pranks. And the latest one involved these women pranking their guys by serving them a huge plate of food, and then pretending like there’s nothing left for them to eat. The reactions were super entertaining, so I figured I’d test it out, you know? Just for fun.”

You grace him with your most dazzling smile, but unfortunately, he’s still having none of it. His frown only deepens as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling in an effort to summon all of his remaining patience.

“Are you mad?” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you wait for his answer.

“Yep.”

“C’mon, Andy Bear!” You pout before placing your hands on his biceps to give him a light shake.”Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Pretty sure I lost it the day you decided torturing me was your new favorite pastime.” He grumbles, although there doesn’t appear to be any heat in his words. “In fact, I have a feeling you just gave me several new grays.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame me for those.” You tell him, playfully rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “I’ll have you know that you came home with those. I spotted ‘em the moment you walked through the door.” Your sassy response earns you a sharp crack to your ass, making you wince.

“Ow!”

“Brat.” He grouses, even as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose.

“Guilty as charged.” You hum, weaving your arms around his neck. “Besides, I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me starve.”

“Not sure it’s even possible to fail that challenge, Baby Girl. I mean, you’re my wife. My partner in crime. Did you really expect me to just let you go hungry?”

“You’d be surprised.” You mutter, making a mental note to show him a few videos featuring some of the men who’d actually failed the test. “But thankfully you didn’t. And neither did the kiddos. Which is why I will graciously allow you all to sleep inside tonight.”

You let out a tiny yelp when Andy suddenly grabs your ass with both hands, squeezing hard as he lifts you up. Unsure of what else to do, you immediately lock your legs around his waist. Right now you were just going along for the ride.

“Now is that any way to talk to Daddy?” Andy lovingly captures your mouth, lightly stroking his along the seam of your lips. “Especially after you played such a mean trick?” His once clouded blue eyes are now filled with mischief.

“Oh, I’m not sorry. But if it helps, I am willing to delete the video.” Your husband’s eyes go wide, letting you know that he hadn’t even considered the prospect of being recorded. So you keep talking, hoping to distract him. “And I still wanna get you drunk and take advantage of you after we put the children down for the night.” You run your fingers through his neatly coiffed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nail.

“I don’t know if I should trust you.” He eyes you warily, making clear that he still hasn’t quite recovered from your earlier betrayal.

“What if…” You lean in close, lightly nipping at his earlobe. “I could find it in my heart to apologize between then and now? How does that sound, Big Man?”

“I mean I might be interested.” Andy shrugs, gently setting you on the counter before bracing his muscled arms on either side of you. “Out of curiosity, just what kind of apology are we talking about?” He gazes at you with lust-filled eyes, eagerly anticipating your response.

“The kind that’s best offered while on my knees, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of thigh highs and garters.” You know you’ve got him when you hear him groan low in his throat.

“Fucky, baby.” Your husband hisses, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his imagination suddenly kicks into overdrive. “Can you be sorry enough to wear the heels too? You know the ones I’m talking about.”

Oh. You knew exactly which ones he was talking about.

“I think so.” You murmur, stroking a tender hand along his back as he struggles to regain his composure.

“Then we’ve got ourselves a deal.” He grips your hips before kindly helping you down. “Now let’s go get those kids fed and off to bed.” Andy grabs your hand, tugging you behind him as you head back to the dining room to see about your babies.

“Slow down, Andrew.” You laugh as your legs scramble to keep up.

“No can do, Baby Girl.” He grunts, picking up his pace. “Daddy’s really looking forward to that apology. So be sure to eat up because…” He trails off when he comes face-to-face with his sauce covered little ones. “...You’re gonna need all of your strength.”

“You can count on it.”

END

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someonegoood · 21 days

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MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 3 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which after everything you gave, you're not sure if you're going to keep going. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 3 ! final part for my first two works, I'm proud of how it came out

taglist: @girlidekanymore @sunflower-tia @nicolesainz @chilwellspulisic @anotherfan07

inspired by taylor swift's songs.

The feeling of freshness —the wonderful smells, the damp feel of leaves falling down the trees, the breeze and the rain on your skin. The sound of rain is wonderful: not just between a hard roof and leaves, but you can hear it on different types of trees and hedges.

The flowers, which look like they were painted by Monet himself, have colours so rich that no one can even attempt to imitate them. From the smallest weed to the grandest stalk, they are all beautiful in your eyes.

Around you are your friends; some are talking or enjoying the countryside air. You had decided to take me on a little vacation before returning to the routine of the busy city of London.

No distractions, no disturbances, especially without him. After seeing how Mason smiled at that blonde standing next to him and Debbie's painful look in the boat, you knew all these years were in vain.

The moments when you took care of him after he vomited from all the alcohol he had consumed at the party, when you covered him so he could go on dates with different girls and other things you had done for him.

The last time Mason saw you still burned in the back of your mind, the little stolen glances he gave you while you were wearing a pink t-shirt, the one that you had left back in a drawer in the Mount's house. Stacey had told you the t-shirt drove him crazy.

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t understand why nothing went your way. Was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the gulf?

—Babes, how could you ever think it's your fault? Clearly, he is out of his mind. —Clara talked. You and your friends were sitting on the porch in the extensive field that belonged to your grandparents.

Then Adelaida, who was resting her head on your lap, suddenly stood up, leaning on one elbow and said: —Please don't think it's your fault, you would be lowering yourself to his level.

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you... even your mother. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the heartbreak that felt it was never-ending.

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling that pulled you to another person, that proved he was the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know he wasn’t.

Even though you were angry at him, you knew that when you saw him you would act like a little girl, crazy in love.

On the other side, Mason was in the kitchen, picking at the leftover food on the tabletop as everyone else was in the living room. His mother walked into the kitchen as he took a bite of little meatballs that looked delicious and she laughed at the pieces of meat that had fallen onto the kitchen counter.

—That’s definitely not the way to eat —she smirked knowing his son wasn't the type of person to sit down and eat properly.

—But you love me anyways, mom. —Mason flashed his puppy eyes as his mum laughed at his actions. It had been a long year for Mason. He stopped turning to family events when he knew you would be there.

—Mason Tony Mount, I gave birth to you, I know you better than you know yourself-

—Mom. —Mason sighed. —Don't start this whole speech about her, please.

—Dear, I don’t even need to say her name... it will always be her. —She smiled, sadly, as she walked over to her son and placed a hand on his cheek.

—She's happy, from what I heard. —he scoffed again.

—So then you know you’re being an ass, right?

Mason's eyes widened at his mother's question but she just laughed and waved him off. —After all the years she spent after you, dear, it would be cruel for you to not let her be happy.

That sentence shattered his heart. You weren't the little girl who ran behind him in search of attention anymore, you were a woman with maturity, feelings and beauty.

—But what if I’m not happy? —he asked his mum. Debbie felt her heart clench at his words, it was never good for a mother when they saw their son being at his lowest.

—Do you love her?

There was no answer.

—See, that would be very cruel. Mase... either you love her or you’re jealous. Just remember that she's a second daughter to me and I know her like the palm of my hand. I'm certain that she’s fragile when it comes to you.

After a week in the countryside with your friends, you were back in the city, at a party the english players were throwing in celebration of their team winning the last few games.

Every time he looks at you, it’s making him go mad. It surprises him how much influence you have on his night out. He actually believed he could handle it, seeing you after a while. Normally he’s the one who takes you to the football after-parties because you begged him like crazy. But not this time.

Did you wear a white dress on purpose tonight? He doesn’t know. You look beautiful and he wishes he had the nerve to tell you how great white looks on you. He remembers the time you almost kiss in the box, you in the white sweatshirt with his number. The guy talking to you on your right was Foden. Did you wear it for him? He doesn’t believe that, he doesn’t think he deserves that.

Mason sighs. This is one of the hardest nights in his life. He shouldn’t have messed it up. If he didn’t follow what Ben said to him, he would probably be the one talking to you. Fucking Ben.

At the same time, you don’t know what’s bothering Mason. You thought he would be coming to the afterparty with Daphne, but his friends confirmed that he forgot her quickly. He didn't even kiss her. Neither touch her.

It surprised you, you were afraid he would show up with that beautiful model. A part of you felt really happy.

You feel his eyes burning into you while you talk to Foden. You quickly take the cocktail out of Phil's hands, while thanking him in the meantime. He shrugs it off.

—What’s up with you? —He asks you after you take a few sips.

—What do you mean? —You ask him. Is he noticing your bad mood? You tried hiding it, but maybe you failed.

—You seem distracted. Did something happen? —he goes on. You take a sip of your cocktail, thinking about your response. Could it be a bad plan to tell him about Mase? They’re friends after all. But on the other hand, it would be nice to talk about it to someone.

—It’s him, isn’t it? —Foden answers his own question. You didn’t even realize you were looking at Mason until Phil spoke. You nod towards him, —Let’s go outside.

Then, you're sitting on a wooden bench outside. The white dress doesn’t give you much warmth, so you embarrassingly start to shiver. Before you can notice it, Phil drapes his jacket around your shoulders.

—Fuck... —he says, regretting. —I knew it would be a bad plan to invite you. —Mutters softly, —I thought it was a good idea to make you feel better, now I just got Mount to get angry at you.

You laughed, thinking that was very cute. —That’s not true, Phil —you try to comfort him, —you can’t help me being an idiot.

—To be fair, Mason and you are both idiots. —Foden laughs, —Definitely unaware idiots-

But before he can explain to you anything, Mason shows up in front of you.

While walking back to his car, he notices the sound of people talking outside. He thinks he’s recognizing your voice. He must be going insane, he thinks tiredly to himself. But still, he walks towards the sound. Quickly seeing you and Phil sitting together... fucking hell, why are you wearing his jacket?

Before he realizes it himself, he stands before you and his teammate Foden. The chattering stops directly, did he interrupt something? He feels awkward with you and Phil looking at him amusingly. How can he fix this awful situation?

—I uh... I wanted to say bye to you. —Mason said, ignoring the existence of Phil. —I am supposed to bring you home or will Phil...?—He stutters eventually, not wanting to finish his question.

—Wait, Mase, can we talk? —You react before Mason turns around and walks to his car in a rush. He nods.

—Of course.

The silence was sharply awkward.

—Don’t forget your jacket, Foden —Mason quickly says, —she can wear mine while we’re outside.

Phil, who no longer was sitting on the bench, laughed for a bit at his hopeless friend. Then he walks up to you, and takes his own jacket from your shoulders, while Mason quickly takes off his. You give Phil a quick hug to thank him, before getting into Mason's jacket.

—Don’t be an idiot to her —says Phil toward Mason whispering in his ear. You smile shyly, flushing with Phil's comment.

Mason doesn’t know how to watch the interaction between his friend and you. He doesn't know where to look when you turn your attention to him. The white dress quickly grabs his attention once again.

Silently, both of you walk to the parking lot where his fancy Mercedes-AMG was parked. You had always made fun of him because the car was too posh in your opinion, although every time you needed a ride home you always ended up in his car.

Firstly he took the car keys out of his pocket and then he opened your door for you. He had always been a gentleman. The situation is unexpected, yet influenced by the tension that’s been built between you two through the last couple of months.

—So, what do you want to talk about? —Mason asks you. You lasted a few seconds thinking about how to answer his question.

—Why were you ignoring me today? Why didn’t you come up to me and Phil to say hi? —You fire multiple questions at him, —did I do something wrong? Are you upset with me? —Your words cut through the thick air inside the car.

—I thought the two of you were busy with each other. —Mason mutters.

You scoff, this was unbelievable. —That’s bullshit Mase, you know I always make time for you.

—God!, I just wasn’t in the mood to see you two. —He said, elevating his tone, trying to sound casual but deep down, jealousy was gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

You don’t know what to say to Mason. You don’t even know what the boy means. He wasn’t in the mood to see you? Since when could that happen?

—Why? —You barely dare to ask him. You have no choice, so you repeat your last question —why, Mase? —Your eyes start to fill with tears.

Mason sighs, —You won’t get it.

—You don’t know that. Try me.

—I just... I just don’t like seeing you with other boys —he confessed. You doubt for a bit. Should you tell him you were relieved he showed up alone instead of coming with Daphne? You decide not.

—Oh, come on Mason! You can't say that! —You almost shout. Mason's eyes open like plates. You had never raised your voice at him like that, so angry.

—Why not? —He, as well, says almost shouting.

—Because you don't have the right! It's-it's just that you can't say that as if my feelings were so simple... —You tried to calm yourself, you could lost everything now.

—Mason, I've been with you since the beginning and you know that. I'm your biggest supporter and deep inside you know I’ll always cheer for you. I’ve spent my whole girlhood- Fuck. —Tears start scrolling down your delicate face. He looks at you as if you were graceful.

—I wanted to be with you tonight, —you eventually say after a long silence—but you looked at me as if I didn’t matter.

—I know.

You sigh. Can't the boy say anything else? You feel obligated to talk further: —Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong?

You don't get any answer. Looking at the ceiling of the car, you try to keep your cool.

—You know what? I’m going back to the party. Call me when you can explain at least something. —You want to undo yourself from Mason's warm jacket, but he stops you directly by grabbing your arm.

—I know you deserve to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s a shitty excuse which makes everything even more unclear, but please don’t go back inside. —Mason talks soft and fast —and please keep the jacket on.

—What’s so important about the jacket? —You ask with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

—Your dress distracts me and I don’t want to see you in anyone else’s jacket again. —This time he is direct with his words. Almost harsh. You wonder why your dress distracts him. Does he find it ugly?

—Don’t you like the dress? —You ask.

—I fucking love the dress. —Mason says. At that moment you feel something clicking. Despite his short explanation, you wonder if Mason may return your feelings.

—Just give me time. Everything is happening so fast and the fact that I'm just realizing that all these years all I've been doing is hurting you makes me go mad angry at myself. —He says, without breathing. —And... I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done, for the countless times I've hurt you. I promise you will have a proper explanation. —He tried to smile, with tears in his eyes.

—That's the Mase I know... —You laugh lightly and Mason just stares at you, sweetly. —Now take me back home, probably my brother is already wasted.

What you didn't know is that that day Mason Mount started falling in love with you.

A few days after you were your house, sat in the cozy familiarity of the your couch while your mother flipped through the pages of a weathered photo album resting on her lap. Each turn of the page revealed a snapshot of your brother's and your past, a journey frozen in time.

—Look! You're wearing my glasses! —Said your mother, with clear emotion in her voice. She turned some pages that had photographs of your childhood: when you were born, your first tooth fell out and many more memories.

Your cheeks flushed with nostalgic warmth, a subtle testament to the innocence and joy captured in each photograph.

Among the sepia-toned memories and faded polaroids, there was a page filled with pictures where Mason and you, both still little children, intertwined in laughter playing in the park.

Your mom pinched your cheek. —Someday you will realize that everything you did was not in vain, on the contrary, it was all worth it. —She stopped to take a breath. —Because golden loves are like that. They stay with you forever.

—How beautiful, mom. —You ironized. She laughed.

—It will, darling... Come here. —And then you hugged her. You hugged her with all your might as you felt her warmth on your face. She giggled, breaking the embrace.

—You'll need a spell to make Mason realize what a fool he is.

—Mom!

A couple days later, you were back at Stamford Bridge once again. As you approach the stadium, you can feel the excitement building. The streets around the stadium eagerly anticipate the game ahead.

Inside the stadium, the dominant colour is blue. The stands are filled with supporters adorned in their team's jerseys, scarves, and signs that say "Pride of London".

—Call her Mason, I’m sure she's in the stands —said Ben, while putting on the new shirt they played in today. Mason held his cell phone, sitting on the bench in the large locker room.

Today was Valentine's Day and Mason had a game. Your brother told Mason he was going out on a date with his girlfriend but you would go in his place, as usual. He didn't know if you were coming, so Mason was nervous, especially with the talk you had in his car.

You had called Debbie in the morning, asking her if you should come to the game, and she told you that Mason would be more than happy to see you there. You wondered if he knew what you were up to if your brother had kept him in the loop.

Pick it up.

The third tone rang while Ben tried to hold Mason, about to faint from anxiety. In the background, music was blasting from the speakers while the guys on the team began gathering in the locker room for their last talk before the game started.

Reece James leaned closer, curious why his teammate was sitting with his phone in hand, bouncing his leg nervously.

—What has got Mount that nervous? I've never seen him like this —he says to Ben, seated next to Mason, fixing his shoes.

—It's his girlfriend-

—She's not my girlfriend! —Mason interrupted Chilwell, with an expression of fear. You still haven't answered him and the fact that his friends were bothering him added to his anxiety.

—Give me that shit. —Suddenly Kai Havertz appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Mason's phone and putting the call on speaker. Everyone's attention was on the tones ringing, hoping you'll pick up. The team had witnessed your situationship since Mason had joined Chelsea, so they knew you quite well.

—Hi? Mason?

Kai, standing on the bench in the centre of the room, had the phone in his hand so everyone could hear. His eyes widened and his mouth also opened, in surprise. Everyone stood up while Mason's blood pressure went down.

With a jump, Havertz handed the cell phone to his friend so he could answer you. There was a silence between your response and his because his teammates were signalling to him, guiding him in his response.

—Yes? —That was the only thing he could think of at that moment.

—You... you've just called me minutes before your game. Is everything okay? Do you need something? —For you, it was strange that Mason called you, especially right before his game. Mason's teammates melt with your response, you seemed like a worried girlfriend.

—N-no, I was calling to know if you're on Stamford Bridge. —He stuttered, nervous about your answer. You smiled a bit, already seated between the blue tide of fans.

—Of course! I wouldn't miss a game for anything Mase. —And that was the end of him. He said goodbye saying that he had to go out and play and hoped you liked the game, while all his friends were shouting acknowledging that probably by the end of the year, they would have a new addition on their team.

The match ended with Chelsea winning by two goals and the assistance of Mason. You couldn't be more proud of him and after the exhilarating victory at Stamford Bridge, you made your way to the cooldown room, where players and staff often gather to unwind after the match.

As you entered, you spotted Mason, the hero of the game with his crucial assist. A sense of pride swelled within you as you approached him. He was putting something in his backpack, distracted.

—Incredible game out there, —you said, startling Mason. He turned with a smile, recognizing your voice without seeing your face.

—Thanks, this means a lot to me... —Mason replied, his face beaming with satisfaction. You both exchanged a few more words about the match, sharing our favourite moments and the atmosphere at the stadium. Then, out of the blue, Mason's tone turned slightly more serious.

—You know... —he said, pausing for a moment. —I've been thinking. We've been through so much together, your support has meant a lot to me.

You nodded, feeling a sense of tenderness with him. Mason took a deep breath before continuing. —Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner later. Just to say thanks for always being there, you know?

Surprised by the unexpected invitation, you couldn't help but smile. —I'd be honoured to join you. —You said, laughing out of nervousness.

A couple hours later, Mason kept his hand on your lower back as he led you through the restaurant, your body settled into his side. His hand slid around your waist while opening the door, a shiver already wracking your body. You gasped at the white snow starting to lay outside, thick flakes slowly falling from the sky.

—Look there! Mase, it's snowing! —You tugged a little on Mason's hand on your waist, the heat replacing the cold feeling on your fingers. There was already a pretty thick layer on the ground and you wondered briefly how long it had been snowing. —It's so pretty.

Mason watched your smile widen when he was paying the bill, as you tilted your head back, eyes squinting as the flakes cascaded down. He'd never seen anyone get so excited over snow.

You looked so good under the twinkling lights, the candle in the middle of the table illuminating half of your face. He was having an amazing time, already realizing he mad in love with you.

From the way you keep your hair in a messy ponytail to the way you are surprised by the snow. Everything about you was perfect for him.

—Do you want to go for a walk before I take you home? —He slid his hand over your jaw, his thumb stroking away the little flake on your cheek. You gave a small nod, flushed since all of this was new for you. He grinned before stepping back and holding his hand out to you.

—M'lady?

You looped your arm through his and the two of you started off down the street, his gaze darting between you and the falling snow. You snuggle as close as possible to him to steal some of his natural body heat.

Snow was falling and settling into Mason’s hair, individual flakes dropping onto his eyelashes and you were certain he’d never looked prettier.

—Remember the time I tried to sneak out and you caught me? That time I was actually grounded for fighting with my brother and I wanted to buy the new console game you were so interested in. —You said, recalling those silly things.

He didn't know if his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold or from what you'd just said.

—But that game was so expensive!

—I know! I just wanted to give you something for your birthday. That's why I didn't have any presents for you at your birthday party.

Mason caught your gaze, head cocking curiously at the sudden shy look that had taken over your features. You let your eyes wander from him to the snow-filled street around you. You slowed to a stop, right against the barriers of the little lake and you leant against it, the two of you facing each other, your hand still clasped in his.

All you wanted was to grab him and kiss him, you didn’t care who saw or if you got a cold, you just wanted to kiss him in the snow.

After a silence, he said: —You know I want you, right?

You looked at him. Surprised. Self-conscious Scared. But above all, in love.

—I've been thinking and I can't help falling for you now. I’m not jealous because you have other people in your life, I’m not a fucking kid. That time with Phil, at the party, made me realize that I want you with me... By my side. I want to be the one you say 'I love you' to, I want to be the one that cuddles you, that-

You interrupted him. —Mase, I… I don’t know how to say this… —Voice uncertain as you watched for his reaction, for any flicker of emotion that stated he didn't want that.

His face fell, and he retracted his hands from the barriers that before were trapping you between his body and the barriers. Ready for rejection, he looked into your eyes.

—I… I like you too. —You looked down, feigning sadness. When you looked up, he was squinting at you. —I don't know how are you convincing my brother you're good enough for me...

—I'd probably invite him to one of my games and we could go for dinner after the game? I'll book somewhere for us. —You matched his smile with a nod, shoulders relaxing slightly after the confession as you pulled your hand from his so you could settle your arms around his neck instead.

—Sounds amazing. Deep inside he's a West Ham fan, y'know. — Mason's face contorted a little when he bumped his nose against yours, lips lightly brushing together.

—Oh shut up, —he muttered into your lips, —let me kiss you.

And you obeyed, your hands resting nervously at his neck as he ravished you, his tongue begging for entrance. You allowed it, moaning into his lips as they intertwined perfectly. His hands travelled from your hair to your waist where he pushed you closer to him.

You indeed had waited your whole life for this.

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babydollmarauders · 5 months

Text

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 19)

au masterlist

notes: this is late and short and i apologize for that! i’ve had such a busy few days

y/ndevils00

liked by nicohischier, dawson1417, and 462,921 others

y/ndevils00 WE WON!! WE ACTUALLY WON!!

i mean… yeah, it’s cool, we won.

with the return of my absolute favorite captain (sorry Quinnifer), the devilish whores won 7-2 against the swords!

we kicked off the scoring just a minute and a half into the first with a goal from Holtzy, and almost 10 minutes later, got a goal from uncle Toffee to give us a 2-0 lead!

but that’s not all! just 4 minutes later, captain slut got his first goal back!! GO NICOLAS!!! and in true boyfriends fashion, he acquired his first goal back the same way that Jacky did; on his first game back, in the first period of the game, with a goal that had to be confirmed by officials that it was a good goal! how utterly boyfriends of them! they definitely planned that!

and to end first period, we got yet another EVEN strength goal (no power play goals yet here!) from Pally Pocket!! giving us a FOUR goal lead on those bitches from buffalo!

in second period we got yet another goal from Tyler the creator, just 2 minutes in! bringing the score to 5-1! thank you, queen! and then the rest of that period was boring af

BUT THIRD PERIOD! OH I LOVED THIRD PERIOD! we opened that period and made it our bitch with a goal from MY best friend in the whole big wide world, Dawg-son Mercer!! EVERYBODY CHEER! WOOOOO!!! (with an assist from my lovely pain in the ass, babygirl!)

AND LASTLY, WITH OUR ONE AND ONLY POWER PLAY GOAL, WE HAVE MY (hopefully) FUTURE LITTLE BROTHER, LUKEY ‘SMUSH’ HUGHES!!! LET’S GO, BABY HUGHES!! SHOW ‘EM WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF!!

i’ll see you guys on tuesday after we play the long island iced teas!

tagged holtz_10, tofff73, nicohischier, pally_18, jackhughes, dawson1417, and lhughes_06

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john.marino97 i don’t even get my own pic tonight?

y/ndevils00 i only have so many spots Jonathan! what am i supposed to do, you didn’t score a goal! do you want me to just take someone’s pic away to fit you in?!

john.marino97 1. not my name. 2. yes

y/ndevils00 NO! stop being greedy— jesus you’re like a stray cat, i feed you love once and you never leave me alone again

john.marino97 one could argue that you’re actually the stray cat

y/ndevils00 am i the one begging for your love right now? no!

john.marino97 i could post a photo of what you’re doing right now and it would suggest otherwise…

user29 what’s she doing right now?!

lhughes_06 @/user29 john is giving her a piggyback ride throughout the empty arena because she wouldn’t leave him alone

jackhughes how tf did you get the last picture from the press box?

y/ndevils00 ✨zoom✨

jackhughes well i need you to ✨zoom✨ out and stop camera stalking me while i’m on the bench. WATCH THE GAME.

y/ndevils00 don’t tell me what to do?

jackhughes you’re right, i’m sorry for telling you to do your job

y/ndevils00 you should be. thank you!

nicohischier you called me anything but my name

y/ndevils00 obviously? do you not see my gag here Nicole?

nicohischier i see it, i hate it, i ask you to do better

y/ndevils00 HEY DON’T TAKE MY LINE!

nicohischier too late. took it. made it my own.

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes PUT YOUR BITCH ON A LEASH

jackhughes but you’re my bitch?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes take that back right now

jackhughes or what?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes or i’ll tell Sid?

jackhughes consider it unsaid 🫡

user01 NICO AND LUKE GOALS AND WE WON

user63 “bitches from buffalo” is how i’ll be referring to them now tysm

holtz_10 please leave me out of this

y/ndevils00 you’re part of the team, are you not? you’re briefly photographed and mentioned just shut up and say thank you

holtz_10 for what? you didn’t even congratulate me

john.marino97 bro, it’s not worth the fight, just say it

holtz_10 thank you?

y/ndevils00 you’re welcome, swedish meatball!

tofff73 thank you and you’re welcome, queen!

y/ndevils00 TAKE NOTES PEOPLE! THIS IS WHAT YOU DO!

dawson1417 you’ve been here for like 2 months and you already make the rest of us look bad, Toff

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 you could NEVER look bad to me, honey bun! the others, however, could use some work

lhughes_06 i’ll be your future brother if i have any say in it

jackhughes but you DON’T have any say in it?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes that’s what YOU think

jackhughes i- what does that even mean?

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes wouldn’t you like to know

jackhughes i’m pretty sure YOU don’t even know

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes you can’t prove that (i don’t)

dawson1417 CHEERING!! WOOOO!!! YAY ME!!

y/ndevils00 alright london tipton, let’s tone it down a little before somebody thinks you’re conceited

dawson1417 you’re right, sorry, GO TEAM!

y/ndevils00 there we go!! (we can cheer for just you off insta! nobody else matters!)

dawson1417 can we go out for drinks to celebrate me?

y/ndevils00 are you buying?

dawson1417 sure?

y/ndevils00 then ABSOLUTELY!!

user87 so are we just gonna breeze past “Pally pocket” … like polly pocket?

y/ndevils00 i liked to chew on the clothes <3

jackhughes i’m concerned for your well being

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes you keep me sane 🥰

jackhughes well it’s a lot of work and i don’t think i’m doing a very good job

#media management au!#media management series <3 #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s insta edits <3 #faithlynn’s writings <3

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quitealotofsodapop · 2 months

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Disturbing thought after reading the Spider Sisters arc of JTTW:

CW for discussions of cannibalism;

So in the book; after the Seven Spider Sisters invite Tripitaka in for some food, they try to trick him into eating human flesh as a cruel prank as they're seducing him. Not only as an insult, but as a tactic - humans who consume (willingly or not) fellow sentient beings get a massive hit to their positive Karma. Like, straight back to Hungry Ghost level. As a monk, if Tripitaka hadn't been wary (for once) of the meal offered to him, he would have not been able to enter the Buddha's domain at all.

Only in times of extreme famine is such consumption excused in the Buddha's eye. One major reason being that eating human flesh was like the super-extreme of desiring meat, and that it caused an addicition in the consumer.

It's not just a cruel joke common to demons, it a calculated move to permanently lower their victim's Karma - likely transforming them into a fellow demon within the next life.

In one of my fave episodes "To Catch A Leaf"; MK gets earthquake-causing hiccups from "cursed meatballs" he ate at a eating competition. His seller is clearly meant to be a demon/spirit who targeted him specifically - likely recognising him as the demon-fighting Monkey Kid.

MK: "Oh man I so could go for more of those [meatballs] right now!"

Even the creators must have realised an issue here, as the transcript for the episode changes it to "beef balls" instead (angry mooing from DBK and Red Son).

And considering that the Spider Sisters were skillful cooks enough to make human flesh appear like gluten and tofu?

I wouldn't be surprised if the cook who targetted MK slipped something non-kosher into those meatballs.

Or maybe just pork cus his dad's a pig.

Then again it could have been another reason why Sandy decided that he had to get MK to consume a super-rare buddhist flower immediately.

Fun fact; entities who have consumed human flesh in JTTW are said to have a weird stank about them, esp in their breath. SKW notably *does not* have this stank about him (both Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing do, both being eaters of humans prior to joining Tripitaka) but he's able to recognise it in other demons. Kinda like how people who eat a lot of cheese can smell like cheese.

SWK, meets up with the gang after S2: "...MK. Why do you smell like that?"

#cannibalism tw #jttw theories #journey to the west #lego monkie kid #lmk #jttw #lmk theories #lmk mk #qi xiaotian

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noisolpxe · 3 months

Text

meatball let me hold his face in my hands as i pet him for like maybe 15 minutes and i could feel him purring the entire time

#i love my SON #he really trusts beck & me so fucking much its insane like . thats our fucking CHILD!!!! he's our boy!!!!#meatball posting #★

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jamdoughnutmagician · 2 months

Text

The Boy Is Mine (Claudia's Edition)

this is my entry for @carolmunson 's writing exercise where we all use the same prompts to write a date night fic with Eddie in the trailer.

Very hastily written over last night and this morning, so apologies for any mistakes!

Word Count:1,204

Eddie Munson Masterlist // Masterlist

Wayne had slid Eddie an all-too knowing wink as he made his way out of the trailer door. He had told Eddie that he was taking a small vacation, a fishing trip out of state with some of his old work buddies. Bringing Eddie into a quick hug before leaving Wayne nods towards his nephew.

“You’re the man of the house for the next few days, son, try not to burn down the place whilst i’m gone.”

Eddie nods, his wild curls bouncing as he does.

“Understood.” Eddie smiles. “Now, go! You have fun with your fishing buddies, I can take care of things from here, trust me.”

“Alright alright! I’m going!” Wayne grumbles as he loads his fishing gear into the back of the car before driving away.

“Alright and for zee beautiful lady, my famous spaghetti and meatballs.” Eddie says in his best fancy french accent as he rounds the small dining table, placing a generous plating of pasta in front of you.

Your back sinks against the soft throw pillow plumped against the harsh back of the wooden dining chair.

Eddie had insisted on cooking for you for a special date night, calling you up to come over because he said he had a special surprise planned for you, and to wear something fancy.

So you pulled on your nicest dress from your wardrobe, the dainty blue floral one that you knew Eddie liked seeing you in, if his big brown eyes were any give away, the way they roamed over the expanse of exposed skin every time you wore it.

Excitedly knocking your knuckles against the rickety trailer door you heard the enthusiastic shout from your boyfriend from inside.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” comes his voice, sounding as if he was working very hard behind closed doors.

Suddenly the door swings open and there stands your boyfriend, his messy hair tied back into a loose bun at the nape of his neck, a few stray curls falling down to frame his face. His slender frame is covered in a tight black shirt and his usual dark ripped jeans, but it’s not that that catches your attention, no, it’s the white ‘kiss the cook’ apron decorated with various splotchy stains that has you cocking your head in interest. A small spiral notebook hangs off his apron where it's tied around his waist, looking every part waiter-and-chef all rolled into one.

“Come in, Welcome to Chez Munson” he smiles broadly, his white teeth pulling against the curve of his bottom lip.

“Welcome madame, let me show you to your seat.” he says as he guides you into the small dining area he’s set up in the kitchen, complete with a single rose dropped into an empty coke bottle.

“Eddie..”

“I know, I know, it's just we never really get time to ourselves anymore, we've both been so busy lately, and I just wanted to treat my favourite girl.”

“Eddie, it's perfect!” You beam, leaning up to kiss his cheek, feeling his flushed cheeks smile against your lips.

Just as he's about to sit down in the seat opposite you, he bounces back to his feet.

“I almost forgot!” He babbles as he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a bottle of wine. “Harrington helped me pick it out, but I think he just chose this because there was a picture of an lion on the label” he chuckles.

Then for a brief moment you hear him clinking around in the kitchen cabinets in search of some wine glasses.

“Okay..” he huffs “so, like, I ran out of nice cups, is this okay?” He asks as he places down two mugs on the table. His favourite Garfield mug for him, and a red race-car mug for you, from that time when Wayne took Eddie to the Indy 500 a few years back.

He cracks open the bottle and pours a few drops in each mug, before sitting down opposite you.

“Cheers!” He grins, lifting his mug up.

You clink your mug against his and return his cheer.

You watch as he reaches for the small tub of grated parmesan on the table before sprinkling it on top of his pasta.

“And you like that, huh?” you wrinkle your nose in disgust at his choice of topping.

“What can I say, Sweetheart, I've got a refined palette.” He laughs before twirling up a forkful of noodles.

You dig into your dinner and it's surprisingly delicious. Truly a testament to how hard he'd worked to put together the whole meal for you.

“Y’know, this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” you tell him earnestly.

“Well I just wanted to make you smile, know you’ve been busy working those late night shifts at the diner, and I’m not always the best boyfriend-”

“Aw, no, Honey. Don’t be like that. That’s not true at all.” you stop him before he can discredit himself, and talk himself down, as he often found himself doing.

He looks up at you from underneath his dark eyelashes.

“Eddie, you are the best boyfriend, the only boyfriend, I’ve ever had.” It’s true, you had met Eddie when you were a new student who had just moved into Hawkins and were trying to navigate your way through a new school half-way through the academic year. He was the one who befriended you and that friendship had gone from strength to strength until neither of you could ignore the feelings you both felt for one another anymore.

“But the fact that you have been my only boyfriend, doesn’t mean that you haven’t been the absolute best boyfriend in my eyes. You make me laugh, you’re sweet and kind, you make me feel safe, and most importantly you make me feel so loved.”

He reaches his hand across the table, taking your hand in his and kissing his lips softly against the back of your hand.

“I think the same of you too, Sweetheart. You’re it for me. You’re my forever girl. Want you in my life always, I mean it.”

“And now for dessert.” he says as he places down a slice of vanilla sponge cake, complete with gooey vanilla frosting and a cherry on top. “Although I can’t claim this one as my own, compliments go to the bakers at Walmart for this one.”

As you both enjoy your desserts in comfortable silence, you can’t help but let your foot trail up his leg underneath the table, teasingly playing with him whilst you smile innocently at him from across the table.

“If you don’t stop that, we’re going to have a problem here, Sweetheart.” his voice drops to a husky low rumble, his pink lips curving into a smile.

“Maybe, I want something else for dessert too..” you tease him.

“Let me clear away these plates, you go ahead and wait in the bedroom. I’ve been dying to rip that dress off you since you stepped through the door.” he smirks, his dark eyes raking over you.

Excitedly you jump up from your seat, and make your way over to him, kissing him on his cheek before whispering in his ear.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Teddy.”

@mrsjellymunson @penguinsandpotterheads @ali-r3n @seatnights @xxbimbobunnyxx @impmunson @paybacksawitch @heydreamchild

#Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader fluff #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x Reader Fanfic #Eddie Munson fanfic

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asteroshearts · 1 year

Text

Costco

Dad!Levi x Mom!Reader

Domestic AU, Modern AU, pure fluff, unnamed young son

Oh, the skip in your step couldn't be contained as you sauntered down to your car, basked in the sun, and dancing in the rays.

You had gotten everything that you needed (and wanted) today at one of your favorite places in the world: Costco Warehouse.

The groceries for the week? Obtained. The random sherpa throw pillow? One and done. Levi's wine, your spontaneous cheeses, tins of tea. You and your son gorged on every sample available until your bellies were full enough for your husband to nearly roll you back to the car.

The wheels of the shopping cart gently rolled to a stop, careful of the precious package you had in there, as Levi wordlessly met eyes with you. Without another sound, you nodded and ducked in the car, swiftly making sure the baby seat was ready. The second you broke away from your two boys, your son perked up immediately from his sleepy state, swiveling his head back and forth and gurgling slightly in his grogginess. Sensing your son's impending panic from not being about to sight you from his seat in the shopping cart, Levi absentmindedly began to rub his knuckles up and down his baby's stomach to soothe him.

"Aw, come here, baby," you cooed, taking your sleepy baby from out of the cart while your husband loaded the trunk. Tiny hands wound against your neck immediately and you tugged your son closer. "That was some yummy food, huh? Are you feeling the food coma yet?" Pressing his face against your neck, you felt his single nod.

Silent, but a listener, just like his father.

"Yea?" You placed him down gently as you began to buckle him in. "I think the meatballs were my favorite." Click. Zip. Pull. "If they're on sale next week maybe we can ask your papa to make them with spaghetti." Tugging on his seat belt straps once more to make sure he was secure, you began to pull away to help Levi bring in your purchases, only to be stopped by a single tiny hand pulling on your sleeve.

"Huh?" Eyes matching his blinked widely.

"Mama..." he started out slowly. His wide eyes twinkled with stars. "The chickie is hot, can I eat?" He emphasized his words with a couple more tugs to your sleeve, pointing a single finger at his mouth as he went ahhh silently.

"Aw, yea, that's what you were most excited about!" You beamed and wiggled your fingers at him, smiling widely. Of course: the famous Costco rotisserie chicken.

You had such a patient and quiet child, such a mama's boy, Levi remarked with a playful roll of his eyes. Your son was never difficult to handle and would always follow you around like a little duckling. Normally, he'd just tag along with you as you went down the aisles of Costco, a single hand on your skirt as he hovered around your legs.

But today was different. Today he had taken a hold of your hand without a single word and he was the one leading you. He dragged you to the back of the store where the rotisserie was, much to Levi’s amusement as he pulled the cart along behind you. Your son was a man on a mission, eyes gleaming with determination. He tugged on your skirt twice and pointed one tiny pudgy finger at the row of chicken trays in front of you.

You son even knew the tricks: the ins and outs. When you cooed and reached out to grab a tray, your son stopped you, shaking his head before pointing at all of the other people waiting around you. Your son even knew to wait for the next round of fresh chicken to be placed out.

You and Levi sure had a field day giggling at that, watching your son's back as he looked in awe at the employee behind the counter, muttering about how well he was doing with his first real grocery run.

That little runt was growing up, Levi thought wistfully. His fingers twisted around yours. The beautiful son you two created was really becoming a big boy.

But now, despite how cute your son was, despite his cherubic cheeks, and his open lips, and the twinkle in his eyes, you knew one thing: there was no way in hell Levi was going to let a toddler eat in his new car.

After all, even back in your college days, when Levi's car was a decade old Renault that he picked up for less than 1K, your then-boyfriend would raise hell at the mere mention of eating inside his beat-up trash heap. Even when you two picked up a McDonald's at 3AM, one glare made you think twice about eating a single fry before you left the car.

Levi, your high maintenance husband, made you wince sadly at the thought of saying no to your son as he stared expectantly at you.

"Do you mean you want to eat it when you get back home?"

A shake of his head. "Now, Mama." Oh, this was going to be difficult, wasn't it?

"Aw, I'm sorry, baby, but I don't know if Papa would — "

"That's fine."

What?

You head snapped to the other side of the car, jaw dropping as Levi opened up the adjacent door. You stared in a stunned stupor. What??

"Just a small piece," Levi told your son. "Then you can have more when we get home, hm?"

You were speechless, even as your baby fluttered his legs under the confines of the baby seat and nodded happily as a large smile stretched his chubby cheeks.

The sound of the chicken container being opened broke you out of your reverie, filling the car with the smell of rotisserie and surrounding your son's view with the beautifully brown chicken skin. Even now you couldn't say a word as Levi wiped his hands down with a baby wipe, drying his hands before easily ripping out a strip of chicken and wrapping it in a napkin.

"Careful, okay? It's hot."

Nodding furiously, your son reached out excitedly and quickly took a bite as Levi fed him. Pudgy cheeks let out humorous puffs of air to "cool down" his chicken. Although his mouth was too full to let out gasps of awe and hums of deliciousness, one look at his swinging tubby legs underneath his onesie told you just how over the moon he was.

Snapping the container shut, Levi wiped his hands again before making his way to the driver seat, all as your dropped jaw and speechless expression followed every step he made.

"What?" your husband asked, glancing at your aghast expression from the corner of his eye. Putting the car in reverse, he began the ride back home.

"You're such a — You're such a — !"

A pushover.

A softie.

A great dad.

Playfully huffing, you pouted and puffed out your cheeks, turning in the passenger seat and crossing your arms.

"You know I remember when I was twenty-one, I said I was going to have a fry and before I could even put it in my mouth you pulled over so fast," you recalled, fake-glaring at your husband, watching his side profile as he focused on the road, observing the sleeves of his jacket fall down to expose the dainty bone and curve of his wrist. "You took me outside and said we're going to be eating on the curb if I was going to be impatient."

"And now look at you — you're letting a toddler have rotisserie chicken in the backseat. You love your son more than me, the mother of your child?" You finished by fluttering your eyelashes. Of course this was all jokes, you both knew Levi's heart was more than big enough for his son and the love of his life, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Scoffing, he only flashed his grey eyes at your briefly before turning at the curb. "Don't be ridiculous. We know any toddler with my genes would be leaps and bounds cleaner than you."

Gasping playfully at the smirk he pulled, eyes twinkling with mirth, you batted playfully at his thigh.

"So — " Bat. " Freaking — " Bat. "Rude — !" Bat.

"Brat, that hurts." Yeah, right.

Barely containing his soft chuckles, you attempted to dodge away from his right hand as it tried to grab yours, quickly waving his attempts away before Levi's hand shot forward. His fingers wrapped around yours, trapping your arm before he linked his fingers with your own. When you tried to pull away, he let you go, but only replaced the space on his palm with your thigh pressed against the white seats. You waited for the heat to crawl up your face as he gently rubbed your thigh and soothingly rubbed it up and down.

"Baby, can you believe this?" you cried dramatically, turning in your seat to try and face your son. "Your papa is so mean to me!"

Finishing with the final bite of his chicken, your son blinked owlishly at you, completely deaf to the conversation his parents were having.

Holding out the empty napkin in both hands, your son gave a dopey smile to the back of Levi's seat. "Papa, I'm done!"

Exhaling softly, the tiniest of smiles appeared at the corner of his lip as he turned into your driveway. "Good job," he whispered, just as subtly. You took the soiled napkin from your son's hands and wiped his fingers clean before tossing the paper in the bin.

"More?" Your son's lashes were going to be long like Levi's and now they fluttered as he blinked. Then, remembering his manners, he beamed so hard that the fat of his cheeks nearly eclipsed his eyes. "Please, Papa!"

"Sure," Levi declared softly. Unbuckling his seatbelt, your husband went around the car to grab his son from out of his baby seat. "Whatever you want."

#levi x reader #aot x reader #levi #aot #dadvi #dad levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #snk #snk x reader #levi fluff #levi x you #can you tell i wrote this after i came back from costco #i even follow costco instagram accounts #hehehe i got a tin of one of my favorite cookies on sale too

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renecdote · 1 year

Text

simmer

“This isn’t another Bobby secret recipe, is it?” he asks.

“Nah,” Buck answers. “I found it in a cookbook.”

“Okay, then let me do it,” Eddie says, moving forward to peer into the pan. “You can sit down, ice your shoulder…”

This amused little huff, like Buck can see right through him to the messy, beating heart underneath his words. Like he’s not quite sure what to do with it—being loved—which Eddie can’t even blame him for because he doesn’t know what to do with it sometimes too.

For BTHB: hurt caretaker

[Read on AO3]

Eddie wakes up to the smell of garlic and onions. He can’t place himself for a moment, the ceiling too high and the room too bright, the mattress just a little too soft and the duvet too heavy, and then he hears the sound of Christopher’s laugh downstairs and it all comes flooding back. He’s in Buck’s apartment. Buck’s bed. His fingers are tingling as feeling rushes back into the arm he was sleeping on.

“Just a quick nap,” he said earlier. “Wake me up in half an hour.”

But he can tell even before he fumbles for his watch on the nightstand that it’s been a lot longer than half an hour. His body feels heavy, his mind sticky with cobwebs, and it would be so, so easy to just roll over and go back to sleep.

He forces himself up instead.

“Dad!” Christopher calls when he sees him coming down the stairs. “We’re making lunch!”

Eddie rubs the lingering sleep from his eyes, warmth from the kitchen rolling over him as he draws nearer.

“Smells good,” he says, tousling Christopher’s hair when he reaches the island. His son twists his head away, groaning like the almost-teenager he is, but he’s grinning when he bends back over the recipe book open in front of him.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Buck greets him, too busy smiling at Eddie to notice the sauce dripping off his wooden spoon and onto the counter, bright red against granite grey.

“Hey.” Eddie has to clear his throat, his mouth dry from sleep. (And maybe, a little bit, the way Buck’s biceps bulge in his long-sleeved shirt.) “You were supposed to wake me.”

Buck’s head tilts, his smile bending into amusement. “I did. You grumbled about wanting five more minutes, then pulled the covers over your head. I figured you needed it so I let you sleep.”

Oh.

“I don’t remember that,” Eddie admits, sheepish. “Sorry.”

Buck shrugs, then winces, rubbing at his shoulder. Ice and rest, Hen instructed this morning, her gaze sweeping over Eddie as well like she already knew they’d be going home together. There was the suggestion of a sling as well, just in case, but Buck turned it down. Eddie wonders now whether he should have insisted on it, knowing Buck.

“This isn’t another Bobby secret recipe, is it?” he asks.

“Nah,” Buck answers. “I found it in a cookbook.”

“Okay, then let me do it,” Eddie says, moving forward to peer into the pan. “You can sit down, ice your shoulder…”

“It’s just spaghetti and meatballs, Eds, I think I can handle it. Besides, my sous chef is doing all the hard work.”

Christopher nods seriously. “I measured the ingredients and rolled all the meatballs.”

They’re sitting on a plate by the stove now, browned and ready to be added back into the sauce. Eddie is surprised the cooking didn’t wake him up earlier, but at the same time not surprised at all. Buck and Chris are a constant background hum of safe safe safe in the back of his mind; he thinks he could sleep through the end of the world, as long as they were nearby.

“At least let me do the spaghetti,” he tries.

Buck squints at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to break the noodles again, are you?”

Christopher’s giggles are music under Eddie’s groan. “That was one time. One time!”

“One time was enough,” Buck tells him solemnly.

“Fine.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I guess I’ll just sit here and look pretty.”

Buck opens his mouth, then closes it, swallowing the first instinctual response that came to mind. Eddie has the crazy thought that he should kiss him. Reach in there and pull the words out with his tongue. He bites his cheek instead, hoping the flush he can feeling crawling up his neck isn’t visible to anyone else. Are Buck’s cheeks more pink than they were a second ago too? Maybe. It’s probably just the heat of the stove. What are the odds that he was thinking about kissing Eddie as well?

“You can make the salad, dad,” Christopher suggests. “Buck says we have to have greens too because of all the carbs.”

Buck says.

Eddie thinks about saying it sometimes: you don’t have to take care of us.

He thinks about saying the other thing too: I like it when you take care of us.

It all feels too dangerous to put into words. Too much like standing on top of a cliff and peering over the edge, unsure where he might land if he fell. Unsure how much it will hurt. Daring to hope that it won’t.

Eddie clears his throat. “Well if Buck says so…”

He chops salad ingredients under Christopher’s careful supervision (“that’s too big, dad” and “no, that’s too small”) while Buck moves around behind him and, god help him, it’s so easy to imagine doing this for the rest of their lives. So easy to look back and see the way they’ve already been doing this for—how long has it been? Not the whole time they’ve known each other, but close enough. Buck ducks his head over the pasta sauce, stirring his wooden spoon through the simmering tomato-y goodness, and when he comes over with a teaspoon of sauce a second later and says, “hey, taste this for me,” Eddie opens his mouth without question.

“Mm. Good.”

The pasta sauce. He’s definitely just talking about the pasta sauce.

“Yeah? You don’t think it needs anything?”

I think I need you, forever, and it scares me how much I want you to need me too.

“No,” Eddie answers. “It’s perfect.”

Buck’s smile is like a drug, shooting through Eddie’s veins straight to his heart. It feels dangerous, being smiled at like that. Like maybe he’s not standing on top of that cliff after all. Maybe he’s already falling—has always been falling—and with every foot closer to the ground, the hope wrapping around him like a hug gets a little harder to ignore.

****

“Video games?” Chris asks hopefully, when pasta and meatballs have been demolished, the faint red of the sauce all that remains on their plates.

Buck turns to Eddie as well, ready to follow whatever lead he takes, and Eddie probably would have caved right then and there if not for the pain lines creeping in around Buck’s eyes.

“You have a book report due Monday,” he reminds Chris instead. “Get it at least half done and then we can talk about video games.”

Christopher groans. “Da-ad.”

“Chri-is,” Eddie mimics, and Buck snorts beside him.

“You better listen to your dad, Chris,” he says, “that’s his serious tone.”

Eddie throws a wadded up napkin at him while Christopher grins.

They clear the table so Chris can set up there with his book and his tablet, putting on his headphones, “so I can concentrate, duh”. Buck runs water in the sink and pulls on his floral gloves to wash the dishes, so Eddie settles in beside him to dry and puts things away. It’s as easy as it always is; he doesn’t have to think about where anything goes, doesn’t have to say a word for both of them to move around each other so he can get to the cabinet right next to the sink. Buck’s kitchen is as familiar a place as his own and Eddie—doesn’t really know what to do with that.

There’s been this itch under his skin lately—more than usual—an uncomfortable feeling that he should have been more honest with Pepa. That he should have just looked her in the eye and said, “It’s okay, I’m not lonely, I’m not stuck, you don’t have to worry about me because I have Buck and Chris.”

But there’s fear with the itch—what if she didn’t understand what he meant? What if she did, seeing right through him to all the things he’s too scared to put into words? Eddie isn’t sure which option makes him more anxious.

Buck drains the dishwater from the sink and goes to the fridge. He holds up a beer, a silent offering, but Eddie shakes his head. Buck grabs out the water pitcher instead, favouring his left hand when he reaches up to get two glasses to pour the water into. Eddie takes them without being asked, moving to the couch, and he hears the fridge door open and close one more time before Buck joins him with an ice pack in his hand. There’s enough space for them to spread out at each end, but he sits down in the middle of the couch and presses the ice pack against his shoulder with a sigh, sinking back against the cushions. It brings them even closer together, which. That’s probably just a coincidence.

“Overdid it a bit, huh?”

Buck groans. “Don’t tell Hen.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips: your secret is safe with me.

“You wanna take anything?” he asks, muscles half tensed to get up and grab the painkillers before Buck shakes his head.

“It’s not too bad,” he says, smiling reassuringly. “The meatballs were worth it, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pokes him in the stomach, smiling while Buck squirms away.

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” he teases. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you a glowing five-star review.”

“Shut up,” Buck complains, all laughter and no heat. “Was it as good as Bobby’s?”

“Not even close.”

Buck pokes him in retaliation, fingers digging in to tickle under Eddie’s ribs, and he chokes on a hastily-swallowed yelp. It comes out as an embarrassing wheezing-honk sound and Buck laughs so hard he has to abandon his assault on Eddie to clutch his own sides instead.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, tears in his eyes. “Ow.”

“That’s what you get,” Eddie tells him primly, but he reaches out and grabs the ice pack to hold it in place against Buck’s shoulder. Buck takes a deep breath, holding it, then releases it in another fit of giggles. Deep breath, hold it, hold it, giggles. It’s contagious; Eddie wants to laugh just because Buck is laughing. He’s happy, just because Buck is happy. If Buck was sad right now, he knows he’d be sad too, just because it’s Buck.

(“Does he know?” Frank asked six months ago.

“Know what?” Running his thumb nail up and down the grooves in his coffee cup instead of making eye contact.

“Eddie.”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes—sometimes I think he must because, how could he not? But he’s never said anything.”

“Well.” In that tone that meant Frank was about to say something completely reasonable and annoying. “Have you said anything?”

Eddie’s nail punched a hole through the cardboard cup and he cursed as warm coffee dribbled onto his pants. Buck would take one look at it when he got home and know that something had happened; Eddie could see the look on his face already, soft and concerned and so eager to make him feel better.

“No,” he finally answered. “I haven’t said anything.”

Frank made a sound—Eddie’s brain translated it to I can’t believe I’m being paid to deal with this lovesick idiot—and then he very reasonably, very annoyingly, suggested, “Maybe you should.”

Yeah. Spoiler alert: Eddie didn’t.)

“Hey,” he says, when the laughter has fizzled out, Buck slumped back against the couch with his eyes closed and Eddie closer than he really needs to be to keep the ice pack on his shoulder. It’s starting to numb his hand even with a tea towel wrapped around it, but he doesn’t let go. “Tell me the truth.”

A sound in the back of Buck’s throat, halfway to a question. Eddie wants to run his fingers through the curls that have been left loose after his post-shift shower. He wants to smooth the wrinkles in the front of Buck’s shirt, just to feel the beat of his heart underneath. He wishes Frank had never told him that he’s allowed to want things because now all he can think about is how much he wants Buck, all the time, in every way.

It’s dangerous: wanting things.

(“You don’t want to break your tia’s heart.”

“Or mine,” Vanessa said. “You get that, don’t you?”

And the way she looked at him—through him—like she could already see all the places where his heart was intertwined with someone else—

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I do.”)

“How are you really feeling?” he asks, hand curled in his lap so he doesn’t reach out.

Buck’s eyes open, his nose scrunching at the question.

“Tired,” he admits. “The carb crash is so real.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, more fond than annoyed. “Yeah, I’m sure it has nothing to do with being hurt, or calls keeping us up half the night.”

nothing to do with you dying not even two months ago

Buck pinches his thumb and index finger together, one eye squinted slightly. “Only a little hurt.”

A little is enough.

“I like it better when you’re not hurt at all,” Eddie tells him, and it’s not the first time he’s said those words, not even the second or the third, but something about the way Buck looks at him now—

Something about how close they are, and the family meal they just had, and Christopher mumbling to himself at the kitchen table—

Something Eddie can’t keep out of his voice and his eyes and his heart—

“Eds,” Buck says, little more than a breath, and Eddie knows—he knows—that if he leaned in and kissed him right now, Buck would kiss back.

He sits back instead. Reaches for the glass of water on the coffee table just so he can do something that isn’t stare lovingly into his best friend’s eyes. His skin itches and itches and itches.

“Eddie.” Stronger this time, fingers circling around Eddie’s wrist. “I’m okay.”

Eddie glances at Christopher—headphones still on, absorbed in his book report—and when he looks back, Buck’s eyes are wide and earnest. Eddie thinks about saying: you could so easily have not been okay. He thinks about saying: you don’t have to be okay all the time, not with me. He thinks about being brave—I love you—then shies away from it just as fast.

“Just—let us take care of you?”

Buck chews on his lip. More hesitant, Eddie thinks, than the question the deserves.

“I thought you had another date tonight,” he says eventually.

Aimee. A friend of a friend’s daughter who just moved to LA. She teaches kindergarten, Pepa told him. You’ll give her a chance, won’t you?

“I’ll cancel,” Eddie says, already preparing an apology to Pepa in his mind. “She’ll understand.”

Buck’s nose scrunches, like he doesn’t think she will, but he doesn’t fight it. “Okay,” he agrees, hand twitching up towards his shoulder, then falling back to his lap. “If you’re sure.”

Some days, Buck and Christopher are the only things Eddie is sure of.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling, and he feels how fond it is but can’t bring himself to care if it shows his hand. “I’m sure.”

Buck smiles back, warm and soft, the whole moment fuzzy around the edges, and—

Eddie has that realisation again: if he leaned in and kissed him right now, Buck would kiss back. It would be so easy, he thinks, except for how it would be the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life.

“So,” he says instead, clinging to safer ground. “Meds?”

He raises his eyebrows and Buck sighs, head tipping back against the couch.

“Fine,” he tells the ceiling. “Half a dose.”

“And I’m cooking dinner,” Eddie adds, standing up, their hands touching for one electric second as Buck takes over holding the ice pack against his shoulder.

He sighs again, more put on this time. “You’re so bossy.”

Eddie grins, unable to resist poking. “Would you prefer I call Maddie to come look after you?”

It’s a joke—it’s always so easy to joke around with Buck—so it startles him, takes his breath away a little, when Buck’s answer comes thick with sincerity: “You’re better at it.”

You don’t know her the way he does, he told Buck once, Maddie’s absence and Chimney’s worry a gaping wound around them. And it’s not the same thing, it’s not like that at all—they’re not together like that—but here the words are, pushing into Eddie’s mind anyway. It’s an effort to shrug them away. An effort to keep his voice light as he answers, “Well, you’re pretty good at taking care of me too.”

Buck is beautiful when he smiles. Eddie shies away from that thought too as soon as it pops into his head—not for the first time, but increasingly more insistent every time it does.

“We make a good team,” Buck says, like it’s simple. Like it could always be that simple.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, that ever-present hope tightening its arms around him. “I guess we do.”

He doesn’t have to search to find the pain meds in Buck’s bathroom cabinet. They’re right there beside a spare pack of razors and a bottle of vitamin C that Buck restocks every time it expires but hardly ever uses, just like Eddie knew they would be. He used to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything, knowing his best friend’s apartment as well as he knows his own house. But every time they sit around that dining table and share a meal, he and Buck and Chris, a neat little family of three, it gets harder and harder to lie to himself.

Buck is right: they make a good team. One day, Eddie thinks he’ll be able to take a chance on that. Or maybe not much of a chance at all. A leap of faith, but the kind where his feet never leave the ground.

One day.

****

“So what did you tell her?” Buck asks later, dinner in the oven and the TV flickering blue light through the room while Chris decides what game they should play. “Your date. Did she understand?”

“I told her the truth,” Eddie answers easily.

It’s sitting there in his text thread: I think I’m in love with my best friend.

Buck nods, toggling with the joystick of his controller. “So you’re going to reschedule?”

“Nah.” Eddie knocks their elbows together, almost an accident. “I don’t think I will.”

Buck really is beautiful when he smiles. Eddie lets himself look this time—lets himself imagine what it might be like to kiss that smile away—and this time it doesn’t feel so dangerous. It’s just that same steady hum in the back of his mind that he always feels with Buck and Chris: safe safe safe.

(Loved loved loved loved.)

He thinks one day might not be too far away after all.

#Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #911 Fox #fic #badthingshappenbingo #lazy title for this one because I should definitely be sleeping rn #but enjoy these two being so dumb and so in love

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