#bluetooth bacon

[tekedynamic]

As technology continues to evolve, so do temperature loggers—with smarter features, better connectivity, and enhanced analytics. Read more…...

[hotshotsxyz]

where else but here, who else but us?

(8x06 coda) (buddie) (986 words)

Eddie wakes to the smell of bacon frying and coffee brewing, and for the first time in maybe his entire life, he lets himself luxuriate in it. If he’d actually made it to bed last night, he might even go back to sleep.

He stands and stretches, then shivers a little bit as the cool morning air tickles his bare thighs. Eddie grins. He just—

He did something for himself, and the world didn’t end. He did something for himself, and not only did the world not end, it got a little bit bigger and a little bit brighter. He did something for himself and Buck showed up, and that joy he was feeling burned a little bit hotter.

Eddie scoops his phone up off the floor and finds that it’s completely out of juice. He huffs a soft laugh and plugs it in. It’s a silly thought, but—Eddie can’t remember the last time his phone died. How could it, when he’s been so damn determined to avoid anything that might bring him a little joy. Hell, he hasn’t even been letting himself text Buck unless Buck texts him first.

He pads down the hall and into his bedroom and pulls on the softest pair of sweats he owns. He changes into an old, threadbare t-shirt, leans against the wall and exhales.

In his kitchen, Buck is making breakfast. In Texas, Christopher is safe and probably still asleep, and that’s a whole lot more than Eddie’s been letting himself acknowledge.  Here in LA, Eddie is alive and healthy and, if the priest that was maybe hitting on him is to be believed, allowed to forgive himself. He’s not there yet, but he can let himself join Buck in the kitchen.

On his way, Eddie makes a pit stop in the living room. His phone, up to an impressive 8% battery, has already reconnected to the Bluetooth speaker that’s tucked behind one of the photos on the mantle. He queues up a playlist that he and Buck have been curating together for years. Soft music fills the room and Eddie kind of wants to cry.

This is what he’s been denying himself. Easy mornings and raucous evenings and his best friend filling all the empty spaces he’s always been too afraid to try to fill himself. Eddie walks into the kitchen and finds Buck already looking for him.

“Morning,” Buck says, a little rough, like it’s the first word he’s said today. It probably is.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. He steps into Buck’s space and pulls him into a hug, just because he wants to. He feels Buck exhale and melt into him. “You okay?” he asks softly.

Buck pulls back from Eddie’s embrace and bites his lip. “I, uh—honestly?”

Eddie nods.

“I don’t really know,” Buck admits. “I think I just—or, I thought—I don’t know.” He lets out a frustrated huff.  

Eddie slides his hand down Buck’s arm until his fingers are circling Buck’s wrist. “You don’t have to,” he offers.

Buck’s head tips to the side. “You seem different,” he observes quietly.

“I am, I think,” Eddie says.

“What does that mean?” Buck asks

Eddie considers for a moment. “I think I’m just… ready to let some things go,” he says. “Maybe let some new things in.”

Buck smiles, small but genuine. “That’s—I’m glad.”

“Me too.” It’s incredible, but Eddie’s pretty sure he actually means it.

Buck’s gaze slides away from Eddie and hits the floor. “I, um. Me and Tommy. We—or, he—he broke up with me,” he says.

Something clenches in Eddie’s chest. “Then he’s an idiot,” he says.

“Maybe,” Buck says with a kind of hopeless shrug.

“He is,” Eddie says with conviction. “You’re—“ Sunshine. Joy. Perfect. Everything. He lets go of Buck’s wrist and twists their fingers together. “You’re the best person I know,” he says. “If Tommy couldn’t see that, that’s on him.”

Buck blows a disbelieving breath out through his nose. “He said I was going to break his heart.”

“Getting his heart broken by you would be a privilege,” Eddie replies before he can think better of it.

Buck lets out a pained noise. “But I wouldn’t—or, I didn’t want—” He cuts himself off with a frown. He looks up through his lashes and Eddie and Eddie—

Oh, Eddie wants.

“Anyone who’s lucky enough to be loved by you, even for a second, should know it’d be worth it,” he says.

“Eds,” Buck breathes.

“I mean it,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand. “And if you don’t, I’ll believe it enough for both of us.”

Buck laughs wetly. “You make it hard for a guy to wallow in a breakup, you know that?”

Eddie grins. “Good.” He steps back, tugging Buck’s wrist as he goes. “Come here,” he says, and Buck follows easily.

The coffee and bacon are quickly cooling on the counter, but there’s music in the air and Buck’s in his arms and Eddie’s pretty sure he wants to kiss his best friend. And he thinks that might even be a good thing.

“Eddie, what?” Buck asks breathlessly as Eddie puts a hand on his waist and spins them both.

“We’re dancing,” Eddie says, smiling.

“O-okay,” Buck says, clumsily following his lead.

Eddie can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his chest. A small grin spreads across Buck’s face.

“Maybe I would have,” Buck murmurs quietly.

“What?” Eddie asks, spinning him again, just because he can.

“Broken his heart.”

Warmth spreads from Eddie’s chest to his fingertips. “Yeah?” he asks breathlessly.

Buck hums but doesn’t clarify further. Eddie, though, Eddie’s pretty sure he gets it.

He and Buck—well. It’s hard to imagine a world where they don’t choose each other, over and over and over again. It’s them. How could they ever end up anywhere but here?

Eddie wants. He tightens his grip on Buck and keeps dancing.

[absurdthirst]

Hurricane Heat {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Hurricanes, dangerous weather, alcohol, fear, anxiety, sexual innuendo, the boys being menaces, oral sex (male and female receiving), sixty-nine, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Comments: With a hurricane headed straight for you, you decide to shelter in place with the boys. Frankie's house being the best location to ride out the storm. Once the power goes out, the howling wind will push the two of you together.

A/N: @storiesofthefandomlovers and I wrote this as Hurricane Milton was barreling towards and affecting Charlie's area of Florida. This is not to make light of anyone's suffering from either hurricane over the past weeks or to encourage anyone to stay in the path of a deadly storm.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

*Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Hey man! I’ve got six cases of beer and twelve bags of chips!” Benny hits the door with a grin and holds up the two cases in his hands. “Let’s get this hurricane party started!”

You snort, shaking your head and coming to help him haul in supplies. The hurricane that is bearing down on your town is supposed to be a doozie and because of that, you had all agreed to hunker down at Frankie’s house. He’s got a generator and more importantly, a grill, so it’s a natural choice. “So what will you eat and drink?” You joke.

Benny snorts, “you laugh, but lemme tell you, Doritos have got me through a lot of shit.” He sets the cases down and you look over at Santi and Frankie while Will brings in another case of beer. “We got the ice in the cooler. Extra gas cans and flashlights.” Santi lists and Frankie pats his friend on the back, “we got it all covered. We just gotta ride it out.” He says and you nod, “the worst part is the air going. It’s been a heatwave. If I could guarantee AC and Internet, I’d be fine.” You confess with a sigh, glad to be with the boys for the storm. They are all highly trained and they wouldn’t put you in danger if they thought it was best to leave.

“We’ll grill up the steaks and make that five pounds of bacon I know Frankie bought.” Will snorts and Frankie shrugs. “You laugh, but bacon cures all ills.” He huffs. “BLTs, Bloody Mary’s, just eating bacon and drinking a beer while the wind howls. Good times.”

“Bacon and booze. The best combination.” You grin, “and I have my Bluetooth speaker so we have some tunes. It’s gonna be a bad storm but we are ready.” You nod and Frankie comes over, “I have the sofa bed pulled out for you. The boys are on the blow up beds.” Frankie says, methodical and wanting to make sure everything is ready before you shut up for the storm. “Thanks.” You smile, squeezing his upper arm. You’ve known the boys since you were their medic on their missions, serving your country with them by your side and you’ve been close ever since. You’ve been in love with Frankie for the same amount of time but the timing has never been right. You’ve been in a relationship or he has. You’ve yearned for him and the timing has never worked out for you. Even now, you’re both single and there’s a damn hurricane coming for you.

Frankie shifts and props his hands on his hips. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” He leans in closer and speaks quietly, sure that you wouldn’t want the others to hear. You are nervous about the storm, much more than you are letting on, he can tell. He’s spent plenty of time studying the way you act over the years. “I know you’re scared, but we will be fine. Even if the shit hits the fan, we have an evacuation plan and plenty of survival gear.” He tosses you a small grin. “Just think of it as a deployment.”

You nod, knowing he’s being logical but these storms always make you nervous. You can’t control them. It’s completely at the will of the earth and you hate that. With ops, you could control your destiny, account for all factors that could happen, and ensure your safety but Mother Nature? You can’t control her. You snort and lean a little closer. He’s always made you feel so safe.

Hugs have always been freely given and this time is no different. Frankie pulls you against  him, trying not to feel guilty for enjoying how you feel pressed along his body. He’s comforting you, not trying to cop a feel. “Come on. I’m almost done making that crack chicken dip you like so much.”

You grin, "you're too good to me, Morales." You enjoy how he holds you and you hug him for a moment before you step back, "come on. Let's finish up and get locked in." You wink at him and walk into the kitchen to finish getting your snacks prepped. "Fuck, Will. How much booze did you buy?" Santi chuckles as he looks at the bottles and Ironhead shrugs, "Publix had a bogo. It's a hurricane, man. Nothing to do but drink." You chuckle and shake your head, looking over at Frankie as he works on his dip.

“I’m going to put the extra gas cans out with the generator on the porch.” Will tells everyone, disappearing outside again to bring them in and you know that he will check and double check that everything is ready for the storm

You watch the news as the storm keeps its track and you are nervous now that you’ve locked yourselves in. You sit next to Frankie, biting your lip, and he slides his arm around you to rub your upper arm. “It’s gonna be fine, sweetheart.” You nod, looking at him before you look at the screen.

He ignores the sly grins from the guys, keeping his arm around you. They know how he feels about you. They’ve known from the beginning. Frankie doesn’t lack confidence, he has no problem going out and picking up a girl, but you are different. You are a part of their team, family in a weird way. If he took his shot and you turned him down, it would change the friendship you have and you mean too much to him. “Getting another beer.” Benny announces as he climbs up from his spot on the floor. “Anyone else want one?”

You shake your head and Frankie nods, “I’ll have one.” You chuckle, patting his leg, “you’re all gonna be wasted for this storm.” You look over at Santi who has Jack and Coke in a tumbler. “Nothing else to do. Other than fuck and I’m not Benny’s type.” Santi chuckles and Benny snorts, “in your fucking dreams, Pope.” You giggle and lean into Frankie, loving how he smells. Strong and capable. The musk has you crossing your legs to squeeze your thighs together but you are just friends and you cannot make it awkward.

He enjoys the way you curl into him. Pulling you close and humming. If it weren’t for the wind blowing outside and the guys here, he could pretend this is a cozy evening watching tv with you before he takes you to bed. “You okay?” He asks, checking in again to make sure you are good.

A few hours pass with pizza being cooked from the freezer, drinks poured and you are watching the news show the storm barrelling towards your state and you sigh, nerves twisting in your stomach. “You want another beer?” Frankie asks, sitting down next to you and you shake your head, “Valium?” You tease and he chuckles, “I’m fresh out.” You rub your cheek, “it’s the waiting that’s frustrating me. I wish it was here already so we could get it over with.”

“Ready for the dark already?” He teases. “The internet will be down and we will have to play poker or a board game to stay entertained.” He grins and jerks his head over at Will. “And that one is too competitive at Monopoly.”

“God and no AC. It’s gonna be killer.” You confess, “and you know I kick all your asses at poker.” You remind Frankie who chuckles and nods, remembering how you’ve schooled them during your time served together.

“We’re gonna play poker?” Pope asks as he smirks. “Strip poker?” Frankie rolls his eyes. “Why, cabron? So we can all be sitting butt ass naked while the only woman here is fully clothed?”

You giggle, glad that Frankie thinks you’d win and you nudge him, “why don’t we play Monopoly? I need a distraction from the storm.” You shudder as you look over at the TV to see the storm heading towards you. The boys nod, not arguing with you when they see you’re nervous and you work fast to get everything set up.

Frankie helps, wanting you to be comfortable and feel safe. The wind has picked up and the storm shutters are starting to rattle on the kitchen window. “Too bad they don’t have a helicopter playing piece.” Frankie huffs, picking up the ship. “I would definitely be playing that.”

You giggle, “I think the cat is the best one for you. Catfish.” You wink at him and he nods, taking the piece from you. The storm shutters shake and you shudder, nervous about the storm hitting you outside. You sigh and take a seat, calling the others over to begin the game.

****

“No fucking way. Pay up.” Santi demands from Benny, holding his hand out for the cash just as the lights flicker. “Shit.” You murmur, looking up at the light. “Dude, that’s not a hotel. I don’t owe you that much.” Benny argues and Santi goes to speak just as the lights flicker then it goes dark. “Well, fuck.” Will mutters, “maybe they will come back on.”

Frankie groans, knowing that it’s wishful thinking at this point. Power will be out for the duration and he immediately reaches for the lamp he had put on the end table and flicks it on before he grabs his headlamp. “We’ll give it a few minutes but then we start the generator.” Cords have already been run through the house to everything they need to power up to keep things somewhat comfortable. “Knew I should have bought one of those standing AC units.” He grumbles to himself.

“We will be fine. Hopefully power comes back soon.” You murmur, shivering despite knowing the heat will creep in soon enough. The power doesn’t come back and Frankie makes the decision to start the generator. The wind blows outside, rain hitting the shutters, and you fan yourself with the monopoly instructions as the heat starts to get to you. “Okay. I think we are done with Monopoly.” You sigh, reaching for the money. “How about truth or dare?” Santi suggests with a smirk. “Truth? We know literally everything about each other and we aren’t teenagers.” You scoff, gathering the tokens before you fold up the board.

Frankie glares at Santiago, knowing he would be pulling some shit in the effort to get the two of you together. All of them think that you want him, but he isn’t convinced. Normally, he knows when a woman is interested. “Why don’t we go to bed? Things will look better in the morning.”

The boys smirk, nodding at each other, and you don’t notice. “Sure, Cat. Let’s get to bed. It’s gonna be a long night and I’m sure we’d all rather sleep through this shit.” Will says and everyone nods. “I call dibs on the bathroom before you all go in there.” You declare and Frankie hands you a lamp. “Thanks.” You smile and make your way into the bathroom after grabbing your toiletries.

“Go to bed.” Benny scoffs as Frankie throws him a frown. “She’s scared enough that she might crawl in the bed with you.” He teases, Laughing when Frankie shoots him a bird. “Keep it up and I’ll make you sleep outside with the generator.” He threatens. Although he knows that he wouldn’t do that. The bad thing is that Benny knows it too.

“Just trying to get you guys together, man. It’s gotta happen. We are sick of watching you two make eyes at each other.” Benny says and Frankie scoffs, rolling his eyes in disbelief that you make eyes at him. You get ready for bed, changing into a tank top and shorts. It’s too hot to wear anything else, and you brush your teeth before you take the lamp and make your way back into the living room. “Bathroom’s free.” You tell the others, knowing they will want to clean up.

Frankie groans quietly when he sees your outfit. It’s nothing extremely provocative, but he still thinks you look stunning. All the guys go get ready for bed and Frankie changes into some shorts and a t-shirt. “You good, sweetheart?” He asks, coming through to check that .

You nod, “I’ll be fine.” You promise, offering him a small smile despite your stomach twisting with nerves. “Just - just nervous to go home and see how it is.” You confess, “what's gonna be damaged.” You bite your lip, “anyway, let’s get some sleep, baby.” You murmur and rub his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek without thinking about the term of endearment.

Frankie hums and turns towards you, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth and he inhales sharply. “You- you come to me if you need anything. A distraction.” He manages, his voice rough and low.

His words make your stomach twist and you nod, “thank you.” You pull back to look at him. So many years you’ve hidden your feelings and tonight could be worse than all your nights spent on ops. The boys are ready for bed and you watch Frankie as he makes sure everyone is comfortable before he makes his way to his room. You settle into the sofa bed but it’s hot. So damn hot without the AC running. You toss and turn as the wind howls and the shutters shake against the windows. The boys snore around you and you huff, sitting up, and you decide to get some water. It’s dark and you curse quietly as you try to navigate the boys laying on the floor until finally you stumble into the kitchen. It’s so hot. You grab the lamp and turn it on, finding a bottle of water, and you decide to pull your tank top off since everyone is asleep, allowing yourself to cool a little with your bralette on.

Frankie wakes up the moment he hears someone moving. The drone of the generator chugging away mixes with the hurricane and honestly had become background noise. But he hears a cabinet door open and then the fridge. Getting up, he knows it’s one of the guys or you, but he wants to check. If it’s you, he wants to make sure you aren’t about to jump out of your skin.

You hear footsteps and turn to see Frankie standing there in his t-shirt. “Shit.” You hiss, still startled despite his slow approach and you place your hand on your chest. Your normally steely nerve is displaced by the storm. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” He murmurs, stepping closer and watching you in the lamplight. “Are you okay, sweetheart? I know you’re nervous.” His eyes dip down to where your hand is on your chest. “I’ve got a fan in the bedroom.” He offers.

You are tempted. It’s so damn hot. You press the water bottle from the cooler to your chest, sighing in relief. “I - are you sure? I don’t wanna - I’m sure you want to stretch out.” Frankie rolls his eyes which you see in the lamplight. “Come on. Cool down.” You grab your tank top and make your way into his bedroom, “oh God it’s so cool in here.” You groan, walking towards the fan.

“Sorry.” He swipes his hand over the back of his neck and chuckles softly. “I sleep better when I have a fan blowing on me. So instead of charging my phone, I plugged in my fan. It’s the only one I have unfortunately.”

You shake your head, walking to the unruffled side of the bed. “It’s your house. Your generator. Your gas. You are more than entitled to use the fan.” You promise and shift to lay down, still in your bralette and you sigh in relief as the cool air hits you. The wind rattles around the house and you shiver. “Too cold?” Frankie asks as he shifts to lay down next to you. “No. Just hate that sound.” You murmur, staring up at the dark ceiling.

“I know.” He hates it too, but he tries to not let himself think about what is happening outside. “You need to think about something else.” He offers. “What’s your craziest idea?” He asks, suddenly wanting to know. “Could be anything.”

You chuckle, “oh God. You cannot drag this out of me after tonight because I’ll never admit it but right now, anything for a distraction. I, uh, I want to have sex in a helicopter while it’s flying.” You confess, “everyone has a mile high club in a plane but that’s boring. I wanna have sex in a bird. Thought about it a lot when we were running ops.”

Frankie groans, cock twitching in his shorts. “Fuck yessssss.” He moans, not looking over at you. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself. “I have that same fantasy. Although it would be difficult to maneuver.”

“I know but if anyone could figure it out, it would be you.” You giggle, shifting to lay on your side to face him. He looks up at the ceiling and you bite your lip, knowing he doesn’t want you like that but right now it’s too easy to imagine. “Imagined it so many times when you were the pilot.” You confess quietly, keeping your eyes on him.

He closes his eyes, swallowing harshly and taking a deep breath. “Baby, you shouldn’t say things like that to me when you’re in my bed and wearing the sexiest little shorts and bra that I’ve ever fucking seen.” He opens his eyes and looks over at you, eyes dark with lust. “You have no idea what I’ve imagined doing to you.”

You inhale sharply, your heartbeat dropping into your pussy as you clench, slick from just being near him. “Show me. I want you to show me what you’ve imagined. Because I guarantee you it’s along the lines of what I’ve imagined you doing to me.” You promise, shifting closer to him.

Frankie takes a second, watching you to see if this is some kind of test or joke. When he doesn’t see anything but impatience, he lunges forward and grabs you as he presses his lips to yours eagerly.

You gasp into his mouth when his lips press against yours. Surprised but delighted as he pushes you back into his mattress, shifting closer to hover over you. You cup his cheek and eagerly let his tongue tangle with yours as the wind howls outside.

Your thighs part, letting him settle between them and press his hardening cock against your core. Making him groan into your mouth as his hands turn greedy, practically ripping your little bralette off your body to get to your tits.

He is immediately kissing along your jaw as his hand cups your tit, squeezing, and you moan, grateful that the storm is covering your noises from the boys sleeping in the living room. Your hands grip his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, and he reluctantly pulls back to let you drag the shirt from his head. You toss the shirt across the room, your hands sliding along your back, and you moan, “you are so fucking strong and sexy, Frank. Always thought that.”

He hums, taking the compliment when it would have been easier for you to have thought that about any of the others. You’ve chosen him to fantasize about and that makes him burn to make you happy that you wanted him. His fingers pinch your nipple and roll it around before he ducks his head down and wraps his lips around it.

You moan, sliding your hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair, his tongue lathes your nipple before he sucks on it, releasing it with a pop that makes you whimper. You rock your hips up to grind against his hard cock. He switches to your other breast and your hand snakes between you so you can slide your hand into his boxers and wrap your fingers around his hard cock.

Frankie grunts, rocking his hips forward and groaning against your nipple. You are so much more responsive than he ever imagined, your sounds sweeter. He flicks his tongue over the taunt bud and carefully grinds his teeth around it until you are whining his name.

You whimper when he switches over to your other nipple, making them deliciously sore and distracting you from the roar of the wind outside. You try to pump his cock, squeezing him in your hand as he releases your nipple with a pop to groan your name. “Lay down.” You plead, wanting to touch him.

“You don’t want me to eat your pussy?” He rasps out, nearly salivating at the thought. “What do you want, baby? I can lick your little pussy and make you forget all about the storm outside or you can ride my cock and see what’s louder, you or the wind.”

“Fuck.” You gasp at the filth from his mouth but it makes you wetter. “Wanted to suck your cock but shit. I need your tongue. You want me to sit on your face while I suck your cock?” You ask breathlessly.

“We can do that.” His grin is filthy and he licks his lips suggestively as he pulls away and flips onto his back. “Come sit, baby.” He coos, patting his cheek. “Always wanted to smother myself in your pussy. Drown in it. Bet you taste fucking amazing.”

You shift to kneel above him, dragging his boxers down to expose his cock, and you groan at the thickness of him. “Holy shit.” You murmur, “you’re gonna stretch me out.” You confess and he groans when you slide your finger along his length. “Sit on my face.” He demands and you push your shorts down along with your panties, naked as you straddle his chest.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” He groans when he gets the first glimpse of your cunt when you bend over. “Sorry.” You cringe slightly and rock your hips away from him as if you are embarrassed. “I didn’t know I was going to do this. I would have shaved.” Frankie snorts, shaking his head as he grabs your hips to drag you back. “I don’t give a fuck if you shaved.” He huffs. “You have a pretty pussy and I’m going to bury my tongue in it.”

You moan when he surges forward to slide his tongue through your folds. “Fuck, Frank.” You gasp and close your eyes as his hands squeeze your ass while he slides his tongue over your clit. The wind howls outside and you inhale shakily, reaching down to wrap your fingers around his cock. You love how he groans into your folds and you bend over so you can take him into your mouth. You flick your tongue over the head, the salty taste of pre-cum hitting your tongue and you swirl your tongue around the head before you close your lips around it.

He can tell that you’re surprised by his enthusiasm, but you shouldn’t be. Any and all of his girlfriends had bragged about his willingness to go down on them, but you make him eager for it. Wanting to show you how good he can make you feel and taste how you come apart for him. He groans into your flesh, enjoying the tangy taste of your cunt while you lap at his cock.

You moan around his cock, taking him deeper as you relax your jaw. He’s thick and stretching your mouth, but you love it. The storm shutters shake but you don’t pay attention as you focus on Frankie sliding his tongue through your folds and you take his cock deeper until you choke. It’s been a while since you’ve given a blowjob to a cock this big and you pull off to catch your breath.

“Don’t hurt yourself baby.” Frankie reluctantly pulls his tongue away from your clit to warn you. He knows he’s a lot and if you can’t handle it, he won’t be upset at you, “I’m still going to make you cry out even if you don’t suck my dick.”

His words make you moan his name and you wrap your fingers around him, pumping him while he’s slick with your saliva. “Wanna make you feel good.” You reply breathlessly, “fuck. Your tongue - it’s so good, baby.” You moan as he flicks your clit again.

He hums, knowing that you do make him feel good. Just letting him touch you is making him feel good so he dives back into your pussy with a long lick to your pussy and feels you squeeze his cock before lowering your head again.

You want to pleasure him, and distract yourself from the roar of the hurricane outside, so you take him back into your mouth, fingers working what you cannot wrap your lips around. Your jaw is stretched as you bob on his length, saliva dripping down into the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

He moans into your folds, toes curling when you swallow around him. It’s the best fucking blow job he’s ever had because it’s you. You are the girl he wants and everything you do is just amazing. He doubles his efforts on your pussy, wanting to feel you cry out around his cock when he makes you cum.

You moan around his cock when he pushes his tongue into your fluttering pussy. His mustache rubs against your folds and his nose nudges against your skin as he shakes his head. It’s incredible and you rock back against him as you relax your jaw. His efforts are not in vain as you get closer, thighs pressing against his ears as he works you over. “Fuck. Frank- oh fuck.” You gasp, letting his cock drop from your mouth when he sucks on your clit. “I’m gonna - oh God. It’s - shit. Fra-” You don’t finish your cry of his name as you choke and fall apart on top of him. Thighs smothering his face as you soak his chin in your cum.

The storm howls outside the house, but your sounds are covering them up. Making him groan ravenously when you start to shake and your pussy floods his mourn with a wave of your sweet juices.

You pant against his thigh as he works you through it, lapping at your clit, and you whimper when it becomes too much. You shift away from his face and wrap your fingers around his cock again. “Want you inside of me.” You murmur, squeezing him.

Frankie grunts, twitching against your palm. “How do you want me, sweetheart?” He pants. “You want me to be in control or do you want to ride me?” He knows you would never let him pressure you into sex to begin with, but he wants you to choose how you take him the first time. 

You let go of his cock and shift off of his chest, kneeling on the bed. “I want you to be in control. Show me what you’ve wanted.” You demand, shifting to stretch over his body so you can kiss him. “Take what you want from me, Francisco.”

That is fucking music to his ears. Gone is the worry, the softness. His jaw set and his eyes narrow as he wraps his arms around you and flips you both over on the mattress, eager to get you under him. “God, you won’t regret that.” He promises, his voice low and husky.

You stare up at him as he settles between your thighs. “I want you to fill me up. It’s safe. I have an IUD and fuck, Frank, I need you. I want you.” You promise as he hovers over you and you surge up to press your lips to his.

He hadn’t even thought about protection, but he trusts you. He knows you and knows you would never lie about something like that. So he’s kissing you back while he’s taking hold of his cock and sliding it through your folds to press against your entrance. Groaning when you nip his bottom lip with your teeth and he pushes inside you with a slow, firm thrust until he is buried in your pussy.

Your mouth falls open as he pushes into you, stretching you out, and you caress his shoulders until you grip his back. “You’re so thick, baby. God, so fucking good inside me. I need - I need you to move.”

He groans, loving how needy you are. Leaning down and pressing his lips to your before he starts to move. Right now, his control is threadbare and he shows that with the harsh, sharp snaps of his hips, pulling back and drilling into you again.

He seems animalistic and you love it. Your focus is solely on Frankie and you moan his name into his mouth as he slams his hips against your ass. “Oh fuck. I - I love this. You feel so much better than I imagined.” You moan into his chin and he squeezes your thigh.

He grunts in agreement, teeth snapped together and his brow pinched in concentration. Wanting to see how much you can take and greedy for every time your pussy squeezes his cock tight. “Fuuuuck.”

You tilt your head back into the pillow, mouth open as you moan, “oh shit. Yes. Right there baby.” You whine, rocking your hips up to meet his and the room fills up with noises of sex, drowning out the gusting winds.

He is spurred on by your breathless praise. The needy whine for more, making his hips plunge down again and again. He’s drunk on you, completely wrapping up in how you react to him.

You wrap your legs around him, needing to be closer, and you love how he looks as he looms over you, illuminated by the lamplight. “Wanted this for so long.” You confess breathlessly, squeaking when he adjusts his hips and thrusts into a spot that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

He groans, loving your confession. “Me too.” He pants into your neck. “Fuck, want you to cum for me baby.” He concentrates on that spot, hammering against it again and again and chuckling when you start to squeal every time.

He hits that spot over and over and it makes you squeal his name until you finally fall apart around his cock. You soak him, thighs shaking as you arch your back, consumed by an orgasm from the man you’ve wanted for so many years.

Frankie growls your name, hips stuttering and his pace grinding to a halt from how hard you are beating down on him. Your orgasm pushes him over the edge and he buries his face in your neck, painting your walls with ropes of his sticky seed as he cums.

You grip his back, your nails digging into his flesh as he rocks into you. Grunts muffled into your neck and you moan, loving how the warmth of his seed feels around you. “I love you.” You pant breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist, keeping him inside you.

Frankie whimpers your name, turning and pressing his lips to your pulse. “I love you too.” He promises. Even if you are just saying it because you’ve been caught up in the moment, he means it. He has always loved you. “So much, baby.”

You sigh, a smile on your face as your heart pounds. Maybe it’s the high of the moment for him. The stress from the storm and the first time you’ve had sex, but you feel warm throughout your body. “I think we are in the eye of the storm. It’s gone quiet out there.”

He listens for a moment, his head lifting from your neck. “You’re right.” He murmurs. “We are through the worst of it.” He promises, kissing you softly. “Are you still scared?”

You shake your head. “No. I know you’ll keep me safe. And the guys. Can hear them still snoring from in here.” You joke and caress his shoulders before you run your fingers through his hair. “I really do love you. I have for years. You’re - you’re the man I’ve always wanted. That’s why it’s never worked out with others. I love you, baby. I’m here and I’m all in if you want me.”

“You’re mine now.” Frankie promises. “The moment you wanted in my bed, I knew I was keeping you.” He reaches up and caresses your cheek. “We will work out the details, but I want you, sweetheart.”

You smile, kissing his nose and you whimper as he pulls out of you. “I’m gonna clean you up.” He declares and you stretch out on his bed while he grabs the lamp to get you a rag to clean up. Once you’re cleaned up, you settle under his sheets, glad to have the fan, and you curl into his chest. The winds are picking up again as the eye passes and you close your eyes. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. The storm will pass.” He promises and you sigh, listening to his heartbeat as you fall asleep. You feel protected and loved and safe which is more than you ever imagined when you heard the storm was heading your way. Yet here you are, you and Frankie together in the eye of the hurricane and you’ve never felt happier.

[akairawrites]

Some of Your Love | Dick Grayson Imagine

Taglist

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Song key : ★

Haley sprang onto your leg, determined to grab your attention. Whining and vigorously wagging her tail, she gazed up at you with her big, soulful puppy dog eyes. Unable to resist, you tossed her a small piece of bacon, which she skillfully caught mid-air.

★

As a muffled beat from a song began playing, Dick's eyelids fluttered open. He sat up in the king-sized bed, allowing the duvet to slip from his bare chest. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he noticed the bed felt unusually empty. Hastily, he discarded the covers and ventured out of the bedroom, heading straight for the kitchen.

There, he found you dancing and singing along to the song blasting from his Bluetooth speaker. A playful smile danced across his face as he watched you. Your enthusiasm was infectious, and it made his heart swell with affection.

When you finally noticed him there, clad in nothing but his blue and black pajama pants that hung temptingly low on his hips. Not wanting him to be a mere spectator, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Setting the pancake mix aside, you pulled Dick into the kitchen with a mischievous grin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips.

As he spoke, you found yourself unable to form a response. Instead, you let the song's words fill your mind, causing your lips to silently mimic the lyrics as you gently moved your hips to the rhythm.

you reached out, intertwining your fingers with his and pulling him closer, urging him to join you in your dance.

The kitchen was bathed in the soft morning light filtering through the windows, casting a warm glow. The smell of fresh coffee and pancake batter mingled in the air, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Dick's initial hesitation melted away as he caught your infectious spirit. He began to sway with you, his laughter mining with the music, and his hands finding your waist as he matched your movements.

"You're impossible," he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

You simply laughed, your eyes sparkling with joy. " And you love it," you teased, twirling him. The moment felt p perfect, a small slice of happiness amidst the mundane routine. In that kitchen, with music and laughter echoing around, it was as if time stood still, leaving only the two of you.

For a moment everything was alright.

Guess who's back!

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[niallsstainedcoffeecup]

A Scoop of Love

Y/N, a single mother, who no longer believes in love, meets the new ice cream shop owner, Harry Styles. Can she balance a new love, her ex-husband, and her daughter? Or will it all fall apart?

This is a new miniseries I'm working on. Let me know what you think, and if you would like to see anything in the future parts. Lots of love! Love either bloomed beautifully or withered wastefully.  Y/N witnessed this first-hand with her parents’ marriage, then her own.  Her parents loved one another, from sharing multiple morning kisses before leaving for work to drawing lavender bubble baths for one another after a rough day.  She grew up surrounded by love, so naturally, she searched for and planned her true love.  They would meet at a bookstore or in a university lecture, and then he would propose after three blissful years of dating.  They would get married in the church her parents got married in, she would wear a modern version of her mother’s wedding dress, and there would be bouquets of beautiful pink peonies everywhere. However, a higher being glanced over her plans and laughed.

She met her husband at the first university party she attended.  He was in his second year of university, and she was in her first year, but her dark humor and extensive music knowledge kept him entertained all night.  They dated for an exciting year filled with morning kisses before she left for class and late-night conversations about their future, and then they were blessed with the news that she was pregnant. 

Her parents rejoiced, but his parents forced him to propose.  They were married in her parents’ garden, under a floral arch her mother designed, with very few guests because his parents did not want their friends to see the small bump under the maternity wedding dress that she despised.  At twenty, she gave birth to their beautiful daughter, Daphne. 

The couple attempted to raise their daughter together, but the morning kisses turned to cold glares, and conversations about the future transformed into hate-filled mutters about feeling trapped.  A few weeks after their daughter’s third birthday, she divorced the man she planned to spend forever with.  Her marriage devoured her hope for love. * * * * *

Oldies from the sixties and seventies flowed from the Bluetooth stereo and throughout the small kitchen.  She flipped the sizzling bacon, plated the burning eggs, and buttered the steaming toast.  Pausing the music, she listened for movement, like the sound of her daughter’s electric toothbrush or the squeak of those awful shoes her daughter’s school assigned as the required dress code.  The sneaky eight-year-old was known for slipping back into bed after her mother returned to her busy morning schedule; however, they could not be late this morning.  The bathroom door’s squeaky hinge informed her that Daphne just finished her morning routine and should appear in the kitchen soon.  She chugged the remainder of the French vanilla coffee in an attempt to muster all possible energy.

Two bouncing ponytails hovered beside the wooden kitchen table and then descended until they disappeared with a giggle.  “Did it look like I was walking downstairs? Daphne asked, hopping up the minute her mother chuckled at the illusion. 

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s small frame.  “My little magician.  Who taught you that?”

She knew the answer before she asked the question, recalling mornings when her ex-husband would send her into a fit of laughter by claiming he left the eggs downstairs and then descending behind the counter until he reappeared with two eggs in his hands.  Late at night, she often wondered what happened to that man.  Did she kill his spirit?  Or did he reserve that side of himself for people he actually loved?

“Daddy.  Will he pick me up after school?” She never knew how to answer these questions.  She should have a solid answer, but her ex-husband loved creating excuses as to why he couldn’t watch their daughter during his scheduled weekends.

Instead, she replied by handing her daughter the breakfast plate.  “You need to eat breakfast.  We’ll leave in ten minutes.”

Daphne hopped onto the nearby stool, taking turns between eating breakfast and kicking her feet along with the music’s beat.  Her mother rushed around the apartment, shoving expired library books into the young girl’s pink backpack.  No matter what time her mother woke up, she was always in a hurry.  She couldn’t remember a time when her mother wasn’t busy, even when they visited her grandparents, her mother took it upon herself to cook everyone dinner. 

“Are you ready to start our Friday?” Y/N asked, helping the little girl into her black raincoat.

Daphne nodded, flashing her mother a wide, toothy grin before running down the quiet hallway.  Shushing the eight-year-old and her heavy feet, she followed her daughter down the stairs and into the real world.  She despised Fridays because Fridays looked like her, alone in the apartment with a Chinese delivery and a movie that she ignored in favor of thinking about where her life was headed.  Her best friend, Christie, often suggested that they go out and find someone new, but she knew the love of her life wasn’t in a bar waiting for her.  Romantic love skipped right over her, so years ago, she decided she would focus on the only love in her life, her daughter. * * * * *

A higher being loved irony, especially when leading her through life.  Although her chances at true love were dashed when she signed the divorce papers, she spent the majority of her days photographing random couple’s wedding photos.  Sure, she also photographed family portraits, fashion shoots, and other various photography projects, but many of her customers were couples in love. 

Today, she was capturing the love between Peter and Samantha, a young couple who planned a Shakespearian wedding, so they dressed as Romeo and Juliet for the wedding invitation photos.  She wondered whether Romeo and Juliet were couple goals because wasn’t the play criticizing the societal norms that killed the teens?  Peter’s check told her to shut up and do what she did best–photograph the sweet couple.  She had about thirty photos before her ex-husband’s ringtone startled everyone in the studio.

She sighed, waving over her assistant, “I’m sorry.  Kira will provide you both with champagne while I answer this call.”

Kira poured the champagne for the happy couple, who reassured them they needed a break anyway.  She walked away from the small group and farther into the studio’s storage room because her gut knew Tyler’s call was not about what he ate for lunch.

“Hello?” She prepared her heart for the excuse.

She heard shuffling on his end as if he wasn’t expecting her to answer his call.  “Hey, I’m sorry to call you at work.  How are you?” His deep, hypnotic voice shook with guilt.

The first time she heard that familiar shake in his voice, she thought she still made him nervous.  However, she quickly learned that his voice shook when he was about to utter another lame excuse as to why he couldn’t be a father that weekend.  She rolled her eyes because she did not have the time for this.

“Tyler, what is it this time?”

He sighed.  “I need you to cover for me this weekend.  Jo asked me to drive her to the doctor’s office, and she also planned a romantic weekend away.”

A low growl pulled her lips back into a snarl.  “You can’t spend time with our daughter because you have to drive your girlfriend to the doctor?  Can she not drive herself like an adult?  Do you not understand how much Daphne misses you?”

“Listen, I didn’t call you for a lecture on parenting.  We all can’t be perfect parents like you.” Tyler hissed, a tone she knew very well from their relationship.

The couple could argue about anything, from when the milk expired to why he never wanted to hold her hand anymore.  The passion in their marriage centered around their hatred of one another until, one day, the arguments stopped, and a cold silence enveloped the couple.  The heart of their marriage had shriveled up and died.

She chuckled bitterly, running her free hand through her hair.  “I���m not asking you to be the perfect parent.  I’m asking that you be there for our daughter, and you can’t even do that.  Have fun with your girlfriend.”

Tyler ended the call without another word.  Did he not respond because he knew she was right?  She would break Daphne’s heart when she told her the news, but they would still have an amazing weekend because her daughter deserved it.  Sighing, she regained her composure and returned to the lovely couple, whose love reminded her that love was still alive for everyone except her. * * * * *

“He canceled on Daphne again because Joanna needed an uber?  Did you tell him to fuck off?” Christie complained as if she were the one who divorced Tyler.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head.  “No, I did tell him to fuck off in parent though.  Does Joanna not understand that Daphne misses her father?”

“You mean the woman who ruined your marriage is trying to separate your daughter from her father?”  Christie’s sarcasm usually made her laugh, but those words stilled her hand on the computer mouse.

The wedding photo she was editing once again mocked her situation.  Her marriage wilted away for two years, but Joanna produced the final drought that destroyed every root and petal. 

She recalled the day, replaying the moments as if they were scenes from a movie.  She left early that morning, dropping Daphne off with her parents while she went shopping for her daughter’s birthday party.  She purchased party hats detailed with a singing, independent princess and ordered two cakes decorated with the same princess and her quirky sidekick.  Deciding to surprise her husband with a lunch date, she returned to their apartment, where she found her husband kissing another woman in their kitchen. 

The cheating couple spun around toward her, and his only response came in the form of an apathetic mutter, "I thought you would be gone all day." They divorced a few weeks after that.  She never cried because Joanna slept with her husband; she cried because the couple shared an emotional connection far deeper than what they ever had.  The love in his eyes returned and sparkled brighter than she had ever seen, all for a woman he met five months ago.  He found his soulmate, and it wasn’t her.

“Y/N?  Hello?  Did the call drop?” Christie’s frantic questions rescued her from the dark spiral she fell into. 

She gasped, realizing she had fifteen minutes of editing time before she had to pick up Daphne from school.  “Yeah, I guess this photo distracted me for a moment.  I’m sorry.  I’ll call you later.”

The problem with phone calls is that Christie couldn’t spot her friend’s distress.  Her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip, her fingers picked at her fingernail polish, and her knee bounced erratically under her desk.  The couple’s smile in the photo made her stomach churn with jealousy and sorrow.  When would she find her soulmate?  Could anyone love her?  After downloading the images onto her thumb drive, she locked away the hideous feelings behind her studio’s glass doors and walked toward her sunshine.  * * * * *

Daphne dried the hot tears from her cheeks, swallowing the sobs she wished her father could hear so he would cancel the plans that kept him from her.  Her watery vision focused on the delicate rings decorating the hand holding her left hand, which provided the warmth and comfort needed to soothe her broken heart.  Glancing up, she admired her mother's ever-present smile that never seemed to falter, especially when her father did not have time for her. 

After her mother broke the news outside of the primary school, she wiped the tears from her daughter's damp cheeks and mentioned a surprise.  Walking down the busy sidewalk, they slowed their pace once Y/N spotted the neon blue sign that read Dream Cones.  Two months ago, Daphne returned from a friend's birthday party and raved about the delicious ice cream served.  Today, Y/N saw the friend's mother at the school, and she asked for the ice cream shop's name to surprise her daughter.  Her daughter's sparkling eyes and enthusiastic giggles revived her heart from her earlier conversation with Tyler and Christie. 

“Surprise.  Should we go inside?”  She asked, already knowing the answer she would receive from her daughter.

Daphne nodded, gripping her mother’s hand with the strength of a hundred sugar-crazed children.  Y/N might regret her decision later, like during their bedtime routine, but her daughter deserved a good childhood, and she would strive to provide her with that. As they entered the shop, a golden bell chimed loudly above their heads.  “Welcome to Dream Cones.” The men and women cheered from behind the white marble counters. The warm, sugary scent of freshly baked waffle cones greeted their noses.  Y/N's eyes flitted around the room, stopping briefly on the cerulean walls, the ornamental vanilla cone hung above the menu, and the wooden tables crowded with laughing families.  Despite the conversations melding together into nonsensical noise, she could still pick up the soft pop music flowing through some unseen speaker.

Daphne seemed to speak the words she was thinking, “This place is cool.”

They approached the marble counter, reading the various ice cream labels, which featured unique names like lemonade over ice.  She enjoyed the clever names; however, her eyes and stomach could not believe how fluffy and creamy each flavor looked.

“Mommy, will I like Sign of the Limes?” Chuckling at the amusing name, Y/N wondered whether the staff competed to create the unique names or the owner carefully curated each one. 

“Yeah, do you want a cup or a cone?” The eight-year-old took a second to consider her options before ultimately choosing the waffle cone.

Y/N nodded, waiting until one of the women behind the counter asked for their order.  She ordered the flavor Watermelon Sugar in a cup and Sign of the Limes in a cone for Daphne. 

“Watermelon Sugar is my favorite flavor.” The cheerful worker commented, handing out the coral-colored ice cream.  “Let me know how you like it.”

“Absolutely,  I’m a sucker for anything watermelon flavored.”  She giggled, agreeing with her customer that anything watermelon flavored was superior.

“Okay, your total is 23.96.”

Y/N's eyes widened, and she nearly gasped when she heard the price.  She appreciated the artistic decor and the friendly workers; however, twelve-dollar ice cream was expensive for a single mother's budget.  Smiling through the pain, she handed the woman her card.

“This is delicious.  Can we have ice cream every Friday?” Daphne asked between mouthfuls.

Y/N giggled, wiping the messy corners of her daughter’s mouth with a napkin.  “Of course.”  She would find room in the budget for twelve-dollar ice cream as long as it made her daughter happy.

She stole a spoonful of ice cream from Daphne, which resulted in her daughter shooting her a playful glare, which she fixed by giving her a spoonful of her own ice cream as an equal trade.  Between the two flavors, she could not decide which one she enjoyed the most.  While she liked how the lime's zestiness did not overpower her palette, the watermelon found a balance between salty and sweet due to the salt crystals disguised as watermelon seeds.  However, she knew one thing for sure, she loved the shop.  After they finished their treats, they returned to the counter. 

“Well, what is the verdict on Watermelon Sugar?” The woman asked, wiping the counters with a wet dishrag.

“Absolutely delicious,” she licked her lips.  “Can you give our compliments to your boss?”

The woman nodded fervently, “Of course.”  Then she paused, processing her idea before responding with a smirk.  “Would you like to tell him yourself?  He recently returned from a late meeting.”

Y/N shrugged, unsure about the possible interaction, but she recalled the numerous compliments she received from customers and agreed to the suggestion.

The worker walked away, disappearing behind a door labeled Employees Only.  Y/N understood her compliments could brighten the owner's day; however, the longer the woman remained behind the door, the longer she had to overthink the future conversation.  What if the owner did not care about her opinion and laughed in her face?  What if the owner misunderstood and expected her to complain?  Her worries eased once the door swung open, revealing the worker and a Greek God.  The moment her eyes fell upon the curly-haired man with his lime-green sweater, her mouth ran dry. 

“Hello, I'm the owner, Harry.” The man's low and slow tone melted her heart like ice cream on a summer day.

She smiled dreamily, “Hello, I'm Y/N, and this is my daughter, Daphne.”

Before she could produce a compliment, he turned and faced the little girl.  “Hello Daphne, did you enjoy your ice cream?”

She watched in awe; not only did he acknowledge her daughter, but he also cared about her opinion.  The girl's father rarely asked about her interests.  She reminded herself not to idolize this stranger's kind gesture simply because her ex-husband lacked decent human qualities.

“Yes sir, my mommy bought me a lime cone.  She said we could come back every Friday.” Daphne gushed, revealing their plan with a toothy grin.

Harry's smile widened, unveiling two crescent-shaped dimples that dented his cheeks.  The man was perfect.  “Awesome, you must have a cool mom.”

Daphne agreed, smiling proudly at her mother, who blinked back happy tears.  Y/N cleared her throat, feeling slightly embarrassed that her daughter's compliment nearly brought her to tears.

“We appreciate you and your staff.  Everyone is so kind, and the ice cream tastes wonderful.” She mumbled timidly. 

His crystal green eyes found hers, sending chills down her spine at how they seemed to sparkle from the compliment.  He reached up, placing his palms over his heart. 

“Thank you.  Our customers brighten our day, but compliments like these are the reason why we opened this place.  What flavor did you try?”

“Watermelon sugar, and I think I’ll crave it until next Friday.” She giggled, shaking her head in shame over her sweet tooth.

Harry threw his head back, releasing an abrupt cackle that fluttered her heart.  Her mind stuttered, questioning why her body was reacting to this man she met five minutes ago.  Why did his beautiful laugh make her want to join in? 

“Imagine how I must feel working here.  I spend a majority of my day in my office because if I didn’t, I would have to reopen my gym membership.”

Now, it was her turn to laugh, a proper boisterous laugh, which she had not heard in quite a while.  However, her ex-husband's cruel nature rang loudly in her head, reminding her not to be annoying.  She quickly recovered, silencing her laugh and preparing an apology, but before she could speak, Harry settled her doubts and insecurities.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” He admired her melodic laugh. 

She ducked her head, hiding her sheepish grin from him.  Daphne's eyes traveled back and forth from the curly-haired stranger to her bashful mother.  The interaction made her question why her mother and father never laughed or smiled around one another.  Did her mother like this man more than her father?  Daphne hummed, examining the man further, deciding whether or not she liked him, and since she liked the lamb on his sweater, she decided the man was okay to talk with her mother.  However, she needed to leave soon to change out of her uncomfortable shoes.  

“Mommy, my feet hurt.” 

Daphne's whines reminded Y/N, that as a mother, she should not flirt with random men.  She didn’t have time for a relationship and should focus all her efforts on her daughter.  Cooing, she lifted the exhausted little girl up into her arms. 

“Well, I hope to see you two soon.  Daphne, next time try the Lucky Charms ice cream." Harry suggested, waving goodbye to the mother and daughter. 

Daphne created a mental note to try the suggested flavor next time.  However, she doubted her father would bring her next Friday, so she hoped her mother might bring her back before then.  Y/N wondered whether she could return to the ice cream shop.  Her heart rejoiced from the attention like a middle schooler who received a note from their secret admirer.  However, she could not allow this infatuation to blossom into anything else.  She would return because Daphne loved the ice cream, but she would not flirt with the handsome man. * * * * *

Red paint bled through the thin paper and mixed into the watery blue paint, coloring the princess's hair a violent purple.  The plastic paint brush fell against the kitchen counter at the familiar sound of jingling keys unlocking the apartment door.  The little girl raced toward the door that swung open to reveal her mother’s beaming smile.

“Mommy, I missed you.” Daphne confessed, jumping into her mother’s loving embrace.

Holding her daughter tight, Y/N chuckled and dropped her purse onto the nearby table.  “I missed you too, Nugget.  Where is your Aunt Christie?”

“She’s cooking dinner in the kitchen before you think I abandoned your daughter.” Christie shouted from the kitchen, making the mother and daughter giggle.

When setting her daughter down, she spotted a bright red paint stain on the girl’s uniform, which transferred onto her blazer.  Pressing her palm against her forehead, she hoped Christie bought washable paint so she wouldn’t have to purchase another uniform blouse for Daphne.

“Mommy, come and look at my painting.” Her daughter grabbed her hands, leading her toward the kitchen, and with that simple gesture, her worries about stained clothes washed away. 

While some might consider the painting grotesque due to the amount of red paint coating the cartoon princess’s body, she admired the art as if Van Gogh completed the masterpiece himself.  She grabbed a yellow alphabet magnet from one of the kitchen’s drawers and hung the art on the fridge. 

While the little girl danced with joy, Christie announced, “Watch out world.  A new artist has entered the scene, and her name is Daphne.”

Since last Friday, Y/N noticed how Daphne rarely cried over Tyler’s absence, and she finished the wedding photos without any more pity parties.  Choosing to ignore her previous stressors, she found herself singing and laughing more often.  Eventually, she knew Christie would ask about her sudden change in mood, and the question came during dinner.

"You two seem happier.  What happened?  Did Daphne pour sugar in your cereal?" Christie wondered, earning a giggle from her niece.  

Daphne responded first, answering the questions through a mouthful of broccoli.  "No, do you remember when Andrew had delicious ice cream at his birthday party?  Mommy took me to that ice cream shop, and I ate an entire scoop."

Christie’s brown eyes widened in pretend shock.  “An entire scoop by yourself?  Are you sure your Mommy didn’t help you?”

She nodded as if she were convincing her Aunt of something unbelievable.  "I did because it tastes like your key-lime pie, but next time, I'm going to try the Lucky Charms flavor because Mr. Harry told me to.  I like Mr. Harry.  He made Mommy laugh."

At the mention of Harry's name, Y/N ducked her head down like a teenager avoiding an awkward conversation with her mother.  Taking an interest in the vegan meatloaf on her plate sounded better than making eye contact with her nosy best friend.  However, once Christie cleared her throat, she knew she could not escape the inevitable questioning.  Glancing up, she found herself face-to-face with Christie's smirk.

“Who is Harry?” Those three words manifested a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. 

She attempted to shrug nonchalantly to convince her best friend that he was not important, but her robotic movements unveiled her nerves about the subject. 

“He owns the ice cream shop.  We complimented the shop, and he thanked us.”

Christie knew her best friend better than anyone else, and the slight sparkle in her eyes told her all she needed to know.  Y/N finally found a man worthy enough to develop a crush on.  This time, she hoped she wouldn't ignore her feelings and allow herself to find happiness.

“Is this Harry attractive?” Y/N squeaked at the straightforward question, which only made Christie laugh loud and long.

Munching on the lumpy mashed potatoes, Daphne watched the women talk about Harry.  She noticed how her mother wore the same smile from Friday, the smile showed more teeth, unlike the tight-lip grin she sported around Daphne's father.  Her grandmother wore a similar smile when she told her granddaughter the story of how she met her grandfather.  Was this what adults call love?  Shouldn't her mother love her father?

Y/N took a sip from her glass of red wine before responding, “He could be a Gucci model.”

Christie hissed as if she burnt her hand on something hot.  “You caught the attention of a Gucci model, and you didn’t ask him to father your children?”

Y/N gasped, reaching across the table to lightly slap her friend's arm.  "Daphne is in the room." She grumbled, shaking her head with embarrassment.  

Christie frowned, deciding it best to change the subject.  They could discuss the possible Gucci model at a later date when her niece was not around.

Instead, she turned toward the little girl and asked, "Babe, did you tell your mom about music class?"

Daphne gasped, falling into an animated story about how Ms. Lee assigned her the role of drummer in the class band.  Y/N hung on every word, but her mind and ears groaned at the mental image of her parents surprising Daphne with her very own drum kit.  After that story, they all took turns telling stories from their day until their plates were empty.  At the end of the night, Christie hugged them goodbye and informed Y/N that she would call tomorrow for more details about Harry.  Once she shut the door, Daphne asked the question that had been on her mind since dinner.

“Do you love Daddy?”

Y/N froze, gaping at her daughter like a fish out of water.  Tonight must have been the night for shocking questions because every question caught her off guard.  How should she answer?  Should she call Tyler before she answers?  Her heart uttered the words, just be honest with her.

“I do love your father, but not in the same way that grandma loves grandpa.  I want your father to be happy and healthy, but we stopped being in love a long time ago.” She hoped the questions would end there, but her daughter was as curious as her mother.

“Why?”

She hummed, kneeling so she could look into her daughter’s eyes.  “Well, your father and I were very young when we met, and we did not know who we were as people.  During our marriage, we both changed and realized that we were better off as friends than husband and wife.  I’m sure your father is happy we ended our marriage because he found Joanna, and she makes him happy.”

While Daphne nodded, Y/N could see her mind trying to process the information before coming to the conclusion, “I’m glad that Daddy is happy, but I want you to be happy too.”

Tears blurred the woman’s vision, and she choked through a heartbreaking sob.  How could her daughter not see that she was one of the few people who brought her happiness?  She shook her head, cupping her daughter’s cheeks.  “Baby, you make me the happiest mom in the world.  Now, how about we cuddle and watch some cartoons before bed?”

“Yes, can we watch my favorite show?” Daphne asked, bouncing with excitement. 

“Of course.” Standing up, she walked into the living room with her daughter by her side.  Watching the silly cartoon, they forgot about the heavy conversation and enjoyed each other’s company.  Y/N would answer Christie’s questions tomorrow, but today’s conversation with Daphne reminded her that her family was more important than a handsome man. * * * * *

The bright sun peeked out behind the dreary clouds, drying the murky puddles from the sidewalks and streets.  Birds flew from the damp branches, lightening the solemn mood with cheerful chirps and songs.  People fled from their busy schedules to spend a few moments outside, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of nature. 

Since her next client booked a later appointment, she decided to eat lunch at the nearby park.  The fork poked at the roasted brussel sprouts while she watched the crowds of people around her, from the family of three setting up a picnic to the lovely couple sharing a lunch before their offices called. 

There were moments when her parents dropped all worries and duties to escape into nature for a few days, like the weekend her parents planned an impromptu camping trip because the deadlines became too much, so instead, they taught her how to build a fire and enjoy the music of the critters.  She carried that sentiment into her life, finding moments throughout the week to feel the fresh air on her skin.  However, her buzzing phone interrupted her second of silent gratitude.

Sighing, she answered the call despite knowing what it would bring.  “Hello?”

“Hey, I need a favor.  Before you lecture me about the importance of parenting, just know that I will pick up Daphne, but my boss scheduled an emergency afternoon evening.  We probably won’t get out until six, so can you watch her until then?  I would ask Joanna, but her boss double-booked her.” With wide eyes, she pulled the phone from her ear to double-check that the man speaking with her was her ex-husband.

This man would rather spend time with his daughter than create an excuse to skip out on his fatherly duties.  Typically, she could hear the annoyance in his voice as if having a child were a burden.  While her heart soared at the possibility that her daughter might finally have a father who took an interest in her life, her mind questioned and created reasons why he suddenly cared about their daughter. 

“Of course, should I feed her dinner?  Or do you and Joanna have dinner plans?” She asked, thinking of how long it had been since she and Tyler had a civil co-parenting conversation.

He hummed in thought for a second before deciding, “We can feed her.  Wait, I almost forgot, could we keep her until Monday?”

Her heart stuttered when she thought about spending the entire weekend away from her daughter. She could not recall the last time she spent more than a few hours, let alone a day, without her. Also, she worried about her ex-husband's fatherly nature. Sure, she wanted him to spend time with their daughter, but she worried that he would not successfully prepare her for a school day.

His reassurance broke her reluctant silence.  “Y/N, you can trust me.  I have a few pairs of her school uniform, I know her schedule, and I will walk her to the front gates.  I can even update you.  Please, let me keep her for the weekend.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples with her free hand.  “Fine, but promise me that you will call me if anything goes wrong.”

Tyler chuckled, shocking her even more because she hadn’t heard that delightful sound in so long.  “I promise.  Joanna and I planned a Sunday dinner with my parents, and they asked if they could see Daphne, complaining that they haven’t seen her since her birthday party.”

Rolling her eyes, she exhaled the irritation growing in her chest. Her relationship with Tyler's parents was rocky. During their first meeting, they wooed her with luxury cars and expensive food, which differed from the lifestyle she grew up with.

However, once she announced her pregnancy, his parents uninvited her to their events and took to uttering hateful comments about their future granddaughter. Everything about the situation threatened their social status in the gated community. The cruel comments ceased the moment they laid their eyes on the beautiful baby, and instead, they turned their cold glares and vicious whispers toward Y/N.

They criticized her parenting skills and provided unwarranted advice on how to raise a polite young lady. Despite their hostility, Y/N sent frequent updates and planned weekends for them to visit, so their comment to Tyler irked her. If they had not seen Daphne since her birthday party, it was because they chose not to. 

“When will your parents stop being so charming?  Daphne will be excited to see her grandparents.”

Tyler laughed sarcastically, understanding the trouble his parents caused everyone.  “I’m glad that someone will be happy to see them.  Well, I better finish these reports.  I’ll see you tonight.”

Ending the call, she sat, shocked that they discussed their daughter without starting an argument. Throughout the years, she could count on one hand the amount of civil co-parenting conversations they had. She wondered how long this civility would last and if her advice about being a better father finally permeated his mind. She shook her head, deciding to focus on the positive rather than overthink the conversation until she found a reason to spoil it. If she was on after-school duty, then she and Daphne could stop by Dreams Cones, which meant she might run into Harry again. She leaned her head back, thanking the sun for blessing everyone. * * * * *

Children gathered around the marble counters to speculate about the new ice cream flavor, teenagers borrowed board games from a bookshelf to rid themselves of the pressures from school, and parents claimed tables to discuss upcoming weekend plans. 

Daphne sprinted toward the crowd, ignoring her mother’s stern reminder that people do not run indoors.  The magenta-colored ice cream gained everyone's attention because, unlike the other flavors, this new sweet treat lacked a name.  Instead, someone had scribbled three question marks onto the paper card taped to the glass display.

Harry chose unique names for the other flavors, so she wondered why he hadn't done the same for this one.  Perhaps he needed to workshop the name some more, but his excitement insisted that he could not keep the flavor from his customers any longer.  Maybe he chose a name but taped the wrong placard to the display. 

Breaking her focus from the mystery container, she looked up, expecting to find the grinning woman from their last visit; however, she found herself face to face with the owner’s irresistible dimpled grin.  All the air from her lungs became trapped in her throat, and her heart tried beating out of her chest and into his beautiful hands.

“Y/N, I'm happy to see that you and Daphne returned.”  The sincerity in his voice made her heart flutter wildly.  Despite the numerous customers he met daily, he remembered their names and actually sounded happy to see them.  She wondered whether or not this man was real.

Locking away her bothersome emotions, she responded rationally and calmly.  “Thank you.  I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”  Well, she tried.

Harry's eyebrows shot up, but once the initial shock cleared, he didn't seem disgusted by her comment.  Instead, his warm smile shifted into a smug grin as if her slip-up intrigued him.  While he handled the situation with grace, she prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.  She pictured some higher being cackling at her as she shook her head fervently. 

“I'm sorry.  I meant to say I haven't stopped thinking about your ice cream.  I promise I'm not trying to hit on you." Her mind begged her mouth to shut up.  She didn't want him to think she didn't find him attractive.  "Not that you aren't incredibly handsome."

Processing the conversation, she groaned and dragged a palm down her face. At that moment, she decided someone could die from embarrassment. She recalled when she could speak normally with people she found attractive, but her skills must be rusty from their lack of use. 

An amused chuckle flittered past his rosy lips as he crossed his arms across his chest, clearly enjoying the sight of her squirming and scrambling to correct herself.  “Thank you, I needed that today.  I woke up feeling unsure about myself.  Would it be inappropriate to say that you look beautiful?”

“It's not, thank you.”  She mumbled, biting back a bashful grin. 

For a moment, she basked in his sweet words, allowing her heart to soar with excitement because he thought she was beautiful.  Would she replay this conversation before she fell asleep tonight?  Yes, she would repeat his words and alter the situation so that it ends with them on a romantic date.  Her dreams were the only space she could be selfish and chase after the life she wanted.  

Daphne watched the shy couple flirt with one another, stopping her staring only once to wave and smile at Harry when he looked at her.  Thanks to her friends, she realized that her mother might have a crush on the curly-haired man. 

During recess, she told Ziva and Andrew about the situation, and they informed her that her mother like-liked Harry.  However, Ziva raised an important question, did Daphne want a new father? She didn't know.  She never questioned her parent's relationship because her earlier memories always featured her father's girlfriend.  Did she wonder why her parents weren't in love like Ziva or Andrew's parents?  Yes, but if her father could be happy with Joanna, then her mother deserved happiness too.  She was hesitant to replace her father with Harry, but she would accept him because he made her mom happy.

“Hi Daphne, how are you?” He asked, returning her wave. 

“I’m excited because I get to spend the weekend with my dad and Joanna.” She announced through a toothy smile.

He glanced at Y/N, scanning her face for negative emotions before returning his attention to the little girl.  “I hope you have an excellent time with them.  Did you want to surprise your father with a cup of our ice cream?”

She shook her head while her mother answered his question.  “Although my ex-husband loves surprises, he despises anything sweet.” 

Then Daphne added some vital information, “He’s also allergic to milk.”

Harry chuckled, nodding slowly.  “Well, that’s too bad, but at least you can still enjoy ice cream.  What flavors will you two be trying today?”

Daphne found herself in a predicament.  The Lucky Charm ice cream promised colorful marshmallows and cavity-causing sweetness, but the mystery flavor guaranteed excitement and amazement.  What flavor did her mother want?  Could she convince her to order the new flavor while she stuck with the safest option?  Before Daphne could decide, her mother eased all of her stress.

“I might try the new flavor.” His dimpled grin reappeared at her response.

He nodded once before bouncing toward the purple treat, his head bobbing side-to-side with each step.  Elation radiated from his heart and soul, eliminating anyone's sour mood in a two-mile radius.  Y/N and Daphne shared an amused look and a giggle before following the man.  The short distance between them allowed Y/N to peek at his outfit for the day, which consisted of navy blue dress pants, a pastel blue striped dress shirt (which he folded at the elbow, a look she found herself drooling over), and a sweater vest with white sheep dotted over it.  She should hire him as her stylist since her closet consisted of worn shirts and blazers for work. 

“Recently, I created a new ice cream flavor, but I struggled with the naming process.  I wrote down multiple unoriginal names.  Until I had an idea to let my customers choose the new name.  If you order the ice cream, you will also receive a slip of paper to write down your idea and drop it in the box by the door.  In two weeks, the staff and I will choose our favorite suggestion, and the winner will receive free ice cream for a month.”  Once Harry finished his announcement, she realized a crowd of curious customers had gathered around them.  Perhaps she should have paid attention to the contest rules instead of watching his rosy lips curve around each word. 

“How fun and creative.  Can I have one scoop of the mystery flavor in a cup, and a–” she paused, realizing she hadn’t asked Daphne what flavor she wanted.

Luckily, he heard the lull in her speech and jumped in where she left off, “Daphne, what flavor would you like?”

“Lucky Charms in a cone.”  Daphne's anxious heart rested easy because now she could taste both flavors without the risk of wasting her Friday treat on an icky treat.

Before scooping the sweet treat, he readjusted his sleeves, pushing the starchy material further up his arm.  Y/N couldn't help but admire the concentrated crinkle between his eyebrows as he created the perfect scoop.  Her knees even went weak when his pink tongue poked out to swipe over his bottom lip.  Why did this man have such a powerful effect on her?  Was she really that lonely?  Her mind reminded her heart that true love did not exist, and her feelings were caused by a chemical reaction. 

“Here you go, love.  Be careful, the cone is a bit messy.” He mumbled, handing her their order.  While reaching for the cone, her fingers brushed against his soft hands, sending her heart into a frenzy.  What did her brain know about love?

Before Harry could ring up the two scoops, two teenagers shouted their orders at him.  He appeared hesitant, stuck between helping these new customers and continuing his conversation with them.  However, he chose the former in an attempt to ease the customers’ scowls.  Another cheerful staff member informed Y/N that he could finish where his boss left off, and although she doubted that, she followed him to the register.

“What does the flavor remind you of?” She asked, processing the tangy yet fruity flavors dancing along her tongue.  Did she taste blueberry or blackberry?  When was the last time she ate a blackberry? 

Her daughter hummed, tapping the spoon’s handle against her chin.  “Christmas.”

Confusion halted all other thoughts about the flavor.  Instead, she chuckled lightly, raising an eyebrow.  “Christmas?  Why?”

The little girl shrugged, delving into her well-thought-out response, “Every Christmas morning, Grandma surprises us with blueberry muffins, and when I taste this, I miss Christmas and Grandma.”

In parenthood, there were many moments when a child might say something sweet, which not only made the parent proud of the small person they were raising but also brought tears to their eyes. She rubbed the corners of her eyes, catching any stray tears from rolling down her cheeks.  When she missed her parents, she would replay memories of Christmas mornings in her mind because they radiated love and happiness, and now, she learned that her daughter also cherished those moments.

“Well, we should suggest the name, Christmas morning.”  A gleeful giggle bubbled past Daphne's lips as she watched her mom write down the name on the slip of paper.  “Should we leave?  Your father should be at the apartment soon.”

Daphne nodded, sliding off the chair.  “I can’t wait to see Daddy.  Do you think he’ll take me to the zoo?”

While her daughter bombarded her with questions about the weekend, Y/N glanced over at Harry, wondering whether she should say goodbye; however, his furrowed brows and the crowded counter convinced her to walk away.  Dropping the paper slip into the box by the door, she answered a few of her daughter’s twenty questions.  She ignored the painful tug in her heart caused by the thought that she wouldn’t see Harry until next Friday. 

Reigning in her emotions, she reminded herself that she did not have time to date.  Also, why would Harry want to date a single mother?  She pictured him dating a beautiful, up-and-coming model who spent her free time ending world hunger.  He belonged with someone as wonderful as he was and who did not have as much baggage as she did.  Thankfully, Daphne pulled her mother from another spiral with a hilarious joke about cows and movies.  Laughter dissolved her stress as she wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, bringing her ball of sunshine closer so that her gray clouds might float away. * * * * *

Neon-pink lights illuminated the dark room while trendy music blared from a nearby speaker.  Draping a feathery boa around her shoulders, an optimistic university student discussed her dreams about the future.  She imagined exploring unknown locations, tasting world cuisine, meeting new people, and falling in love with strangers.  She might even find her soulmate on a beach in Greece.  While the camera captured the young woman's beauty, Y/N listened intently as if this girl were her daughter.  Through a warm smile, she showed her support for the young woman and her aspirations because they reminded her of the goals she made before meeting Tyler.  However, she hoped no one derailed this woman from achieving her dreams. 

“Scrolling through the photos, the woman gasped.  “Wow, you made me look beautiful.”  She whispered in awe, selecting the perfect one for her birthday Instagram post.

Y/N chuckled, returning the extra props to the storage room.  Since her next appointment was after lunch, she would reorganize the items once the customer left.  Easy days, like today, were great because they allowed her to catch up on simple tasks she kept putting off.  If she bribed her assistant, Kira, into helping, they might be able to leave earlier for lunch.

“Remember, the camera captures the art.  You were always beautiful.  I hope you have an excellent birthday.”

The young woman pouted her lips and cupped her chest.  “Thank you.  Can I give you a hug?”

The woman briefly hugged Y/N, then spun around and walked out as if she were on her next mission, but not without almost bumping into Kira at the door.

“She’s in a hurry,” Kira mumbled, glancing back at the young woman getting into her Uber ride. 

Y/N grinned. "It's her birthday, so she scheduled a self-love day. What did you bring me?" She asked, eyeing the two plastic cups filled with iced coffee. 

Growing up, she despised coffee and coffee-flavored products. However, once she gave birth to Daphne, her body craved the extra energy, juggling between university classes and a newborn baby.  As long as she flavored the drink with creams and syrups, she could find the strength within to swallow the liquid.  Now, her body could not function without an ounce of coffee coursing through her veins.

“I ordered two brown sugar coffees with oat milk.  Have we tried that one?” Her assistant asked, handing her the cold drink.

Every week, they ordered a drink they hadn’t tried before, but she also didn’t remember trying this drink, so it had to be new.  She shook her head, sipping the caffeinated beverage, immediately tasting the harsh, bitter coffee notes rather than the sugary sweetness she was used to.  She couldn’t disappoint her assistant, who appeared to love the drink by the speed at which she was drinking it, so she hummed and nodded her head as if the drink impressed her.

“Thank you.  It's delicious, but I miss my usual order."  She lied partially because she did miss her favorite caramel-flavored coffee, but she did not enjoy the new drink.   

“I'm glad we tried something new,” Kira admitted before glancing at the crowded storage room.  “Do you need help reorganizing the props?”

She nodded.  “If we finish early enough, we can have a long lunch.”

“Sure thing.”  Kira followed her toward the room, pausing the moment she remembered the last-minute appointment she had not added to her boss's calendar.  “Wait, I scheduled an eleven o’clock appointment.  The client’s name is Gemma Styles. She and her brother want to surprise their mother with a sibling portrait.”

“Okay, that sounds easy enough.”  She mumbled, loading a few props into her arms.  “Will you stay at the front desk and wait for them?”

While tidying the storage room, Y/N thought about Daphne and the weekend.  Tyler's parenting skills surprised her.  He planned a zoo visit, sent her photos of Daphne with the flamingos, and called her every night so their daughter could say goodnight.  He hadn’t been a present parent for two years, but she couldn’t be happier that something or someone finally woke that side of him up. 

Her only complaint involved the lack of information about yesterday’s dinner with his parents.  When she asked about his parents, he avoided the subject, which meant they either criticized his parenting skills or hers, but curiosity bubbled within.  What did they say?  If it was about her, did he stand up for her?  Was it about Joanna?  She hoped Daphne could answer these questions when she picked her up from school.

“Welcome to Artistic Lens.  My name is Kira.  How may I help you?” Kira’s question announced the arrival of her afternoon clients. “Hello, I’m Harry.  This is my sister Gemma.” Her ears perked up the moment she heard his angelic voice. 

Her hands paused their movements while her mind raised questions.  Was Harry actually in her studio?  Did he know she owned this space?  Is that why he chose this location?  Wiping the sweat from her palms onto her jeans, she ignored the questions distracting her from moving. She cleared her throat, reminding herself to remain professional because he was her client first and potential crush second.  She could not afford another slip-up like the last time they spoke.

She spotted his curly locks first, then his floral sweater, which featured an array of bright colors like turquoise and sunflower yellow.  Gemma, his sister, wore a floral dress that contained similar colors to her brother's outfit.  The siblings shared characteristics, such as their astounding beauty and cheek dimples.  She wondered if they had tried modeling.  She could picture them walking the runway in Gucci, Bode, and other big-name designers.

“Hello, I'm Y/N, and I'm the photographer.”  She plastered her best customer service grin onto her face to appear unbothered. 

When he heard her voice, Harry experienced four distinct emotions: confusion, realization, happiness, and lastly, embarrassment.  A sheepish grin unraveled across his face while his eyes met hers once before glancing around the room.  She smiled at his sister, chalking up his shy behavior as his reaction to seeing her outside the ice cream parlor, like a student seeing their teacher out in the wild.  However, Kira and Gemma witnessed the interaction, leading his sister to embarrass him further.

“It’s lovely to meet you.  Harry, didn’t you just tell me about a woman named Y/N, who you found very—” Harry’s eyes widened, and his hands covered his sister’s mouth before she could finish her sentence.

While Gemma shoved her brother away, Kira and Y/N shared an amused look. He huffed, fixing his posture and rolling his eyes. Y/N giggled, finding the entire situation sweet and flattering because, according to his sister, Harry talked about her. 

“Harry and I have met.  My daughter and I love his ice cream shop.  Now, tell me about your vision.”

She moved the conversation forward and away from their flirty friendship, watching his shoulders deflate and his dimpled grin return as if he could finally relax.

“Our mom always complains that we never take pictures together anymore, so we planned on surprising her with photos of us.” Gemma explained, obviously taking charge of the surprise.

Y/N nodded, motioning toward her camera and the backdrops.  “Great, we can get started over there.  Kira, will you bring us the wooden bench from the storage room?” While her assistant disappeared to the storage room, she positioned the Styles siblings in front of the gray backdrop.

Before beginning the photoshoot, she checked the lighting, flipped through the camera settings, and examined their outfits. Harry paired his bright sweater with beige pants, and Gemma tied a pink scarf around her neck to match the peonies on her brother's top. She feared the light colors might wash out the siblings; however, the camera captured their beauty and radiating glow.

“You both look amazing.  I selected your first pose, but feel free to move and pose as you like.  I want the photos to look natural rather than two perfectly still models.”  She explained, snapping a few test shots.

Kira returned shortly with the bench, placing the item beside the backdrop. "Should I turn on your playlist?"

She nodded, “Sure, unless Gemma or Harry, do you want to play a certain playlist?” Lifting her head from the camera, she saw Harry shaking his head.

“No, you should play your music.  People find my music taste—” He paused, rummaging through his mind for the correct word to describe his music, but Gemma responded for her brother before he could even stop her, “Eclectic.”

“Yes, so please, play whatever you like.”  His eager smile contained a level of excitement that she found endearing, almost as if he truly wanted to learn what music she loved.

Shuffling the playlist, she smiled when her favorite singer crooned through the speaker.

“I love this song,” Harry confessed, bopping his head to the beat. 

“Me too.  Don't you want to sing along?” She asked, humming with the love-sick singer.

She pictured a life where she and her spouse would listen to this music while cooking dinner. A life where they would sing along, off-key, of course, while chopping vegetables. Her spouse would grab Daphne's hands and dance with her around the kitchen. She would capture these important moments with her camera. A room overflowing with love and laughter. 

Lately, these daydreams featured a curly-haired, green-eyed man. His hands would grip her hips, spinning her around and away from the cutting board while he hummed some romantic song. They would waltz around the kitchen, discussing their days in hushed whispers. Eventually, he would let her finish dinner while he helped Daphne with schoolwork.  During these moments, she believed someone as handsome as Harry could love her. 

Gemma chuckled, shaking her head while finding a new pose.  “You don’t want me to sing.  Unlike Harry, some of us weren’t born with an amazing voice.  Did you know he was in a band?”

Her head shot up from the camera as she blinked the shock away.  Harry, feeling sheepish again, twiddled his thumbs while she stared at him in awe.  “First, who cares if we suck at singing?  We should sing along anyway.  Second, you were in a band?  Please tell me more.”

While dragging his fingers through his hair, a nervous chuckle fumbled past his rosy lips.  “When I was fourteen, me and my mates decided to start a band.  Our parents and friends hired us for local events, but the band barely survived two years.”

“During his university years, he performed solo at pubs.” Gemma added, smiling proudly at her brother.

Y/N smiled through her shock.  During their university years, she and Tyler spent many weekends at pubs, and now, she wondered if she and Harry were ever in the same room. However, she thinks she would have remembered his angelic voice and alluring presence. 

“Well, I think that’s amazing.  You are quite the catch, Harry.”  She winked, bringing back his dimpled grin. 

Continuing the photoshoot, Y/N focused on backdrops, props, and poses. Everyone fell into a comfortable silence, only speaking when Gemma mentioned a topic she planned on discussing on her podcast. During these moments, Y/N agreed with her positive attitudes and views. She could see Gemma joining her and Christie for Sunday brunch, where they could gossip and laugh over mimosas. Should she befriend the sister of the man she was crushing on? Her eyes washed over him, admiring the sparkle in his green eyes and the two tattooed swallows on his chest. She paused. When did this gentle, shy man get two tattoos?  Were there more?

“You have a tattoo.” What should have been a question came out as a statement, one that made Harry scan his body as if searching for which tattoo might be on display, which only answered her question that there must be more than the two on his chest, then with a furrowed brow and worried eyes, he made eye contact with her intrigued ones.

He cleared his throat before speaking up. “Yeah, I have multiple tattoos.  During uni, my mate bought a tattoo gun, which resulted in many stupid tattoos, but I don’t regret them.  They remind me of a different time.”

While listening to his explanation, her heart fluttered.  “That’s incredibly sweet.  I want a tattoo, but I’m terrified of needles.  I nearly fainted when the nurses gave me the epidural for Daphne’s birth.” Her confession made the siblings chuckle.

“I was like that during my first tattoo, but now, I'm a pro.  If you really want one, I could come with you to keep you company."  He stuttered through the end of the sentence as if his mind processed what his mouth said.  “Unless you want to bring anyone else who isn’t a complete stranger to you.”  He rambled, trying to fix his earlier statement.

She shook her head with an amused giggle.  “Harry, you aren’t a complete stranger.  I’m very touched by your offer, and if I ever decide to get a tattoo, you will be the first person I call.”

He sighed with relief, dropping his shoulders down from his ears.  Gemma observed the interaction, noting her brother's unusual behavior.  Throughout her life, she witnessed Harry's confidence first-hand.  From the moment he could talk, he loved being the center of attention, and his charming attitude introduced him to more relationships than she could remember.  She recalled a time when he tripped over a rug, ripped his pants, and still received a phone number from the person he was chatting up.  His confidence carried him through life, and she had never seen it falter until she watched her brother flirt with the photographer. 

“Okay, we are all done.  I think your mother will love these.” Y/N bragged because although she captured the magic, she couldn’t have done it without Gemma and Harry’s natural beauty and warmth.

“Thank you so much.” Gemma giggled with excitement, wrapping her arms around the photographer’s body.

Y/N chuckled, returning the comforting hug.  She spotted Harry’s warm smile over Gemma’s shoulder, which served as his “thank you” for the photographs and for entertaining his sister.  The smile resembled that of a loving boyfriend, happy that his girlfriend impressed his family.  Her stomach clenched with butterflies at the idea of Harry as her boyfriend. 

She pulled away from the hug, dropping her gaze from him. “Once I edit the photos, I’ll send them to you.  Should I have any questions, is the number on file a good one to reach you at?”

Gemma nodded, then hummed as if a thought just struck her. “Well, I probably won’t answer if I’m in an interview.” She turned toward her brother with a mischievous grin, revealing her intentions. “You should give her your number too.  You answer the phone more than I do.”

He nodded once, scribbling his number onto the contact sheet Kira provided them. Y/N could sense his annoyance with Gemma's constant embarrassing comments, so she planned to make the rest of the interaction fast and painless. She handed Kira the sheet, which they would file later, and then faced the siblings.

“Great, I hope you two have an excellent day.” Y/N smiled.

Harry mumbled a “you too” under his breath, shuffling toward the glass door, unlike his sister, who had one more plan up her sleeves. “Wait, have you eaten lunch?  Harry and I would love to treat you to lunch as a thank you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, her mind racing with every reason why she should not accept the invitation.  Harry noticed the hesitation in her eyes, which landed on his, and searched for any sign that he did not want her to join them, but all she found was a warm welcome.

“You should come.  I’d love to get to know you more.”  He spoke up, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N nodded, matching his dazed grin.  “Well, I’m never one to turn down a free lunch.  I would love to join you.” 

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

The Florist & the Baker 🌸 (Nanami x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot) 

Pairing: Florist!Kento Nanami x Baker!Reader (Meet Cute/Slow Burn)

Synopsis: In which you get a storyline straight out of a meet-cute romcom when Nanami, the quiet and stoic yet handsome florist who only comes into your bakery for coffee, asks you out on a date. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Non-Curse AU; Friends to Lovers; Slow Burn; Meet Cute; Cheesy, Fluffy Romance; Soft Dom!Nanami; Romantic; Public Sex; First Date Sex; 69ing; Nanami is an Eater; Big Dick; Facefucking; Missionary + Doggystyle; Cumshot; Creampie; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Nanami is WHIPPED in this one shot man. Like WHEN WILL THIS BE ME??? I’ve been having a brain rot over the concept of florist!Nanamj lately. It’s such a cute trend & I had to write some fluffy, Hallmark romance shit for it 😩 This one is also inspired by Nanami x Tiana (the Disney princess). It’s such a random ship but it’s so CUTE!! Go check them out!! -Jazz

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It was a cool, rainy March morning when you met him for the first time. 

Your bakery, best known for its pastries and catering, always opens at 9 AM on weekdays to serve the sleepy-eyed crowd hurrying off to work or classes in the morning. You thought that day was no different. At the time, you were the only one working that morning when the bell above the door rang. 

So you turned around in your work uniform of sneakers and an apron over a warm sweater and jeans. “Good morning!” you chirped in your usual bright tone of voice. “Welcome to…”

The rest of your rehearsed sentence fell short when the man stopped to rub his boots against the rug near the door and take the wet hat off of his head. 

He was tall and extremely handsome like he just stepped out of a GQ Magazine to personally greet you. Under his hat laid a face card that could envy millions of men: a sharp jaw and cheekbones; a blonde undercut that somehow made him look older; brown eyes that twinged with annoyance before he looked at you, his expression softening somewhat. You had never seen a man so fine. 

He put up a finger and pressed the Bluetooth earpiece in his left ear that you didn’t notice. “Pardon?” he asked, scowling at you. “Sorry, I was on the phone. Could you repeat that please?” 

And his voice! It was so deep and soothing. You could listen to him read a storybook or your bakery menu in that voice. Usually, you don’t thirst after customers, but you could admire them in secret, right?

Realizing that he’s waiting for an answer, you pretend to cough to stall yourself and act like you weren’t checking out the guy in the expensive wool coat standing behind the counter.  

“U-Uh, I was just welcoming you to Sweet Treats,” you quickly reply. “Can I interest you in our seasonal line of cookies and beverages for the spring?” You nod at the menu sitting at the end of the counter among a glass display of flower-shaped cookies. “I recommend the lavender latte if you want something refreshing.” 

The man’s face twitched a bit, his brows narrowing at the menu. “Um, no thank you. I don’t do too many sweets, especially in the morning.” He cleared his throat, his eyes skidding from yours for a moment as if he was too anxious to look at you. 

“Can’t argue with that,” you giggled. “How can I help you today, sir?” The man looked up at the menu overhead before choosing a medium-sized latte and the breakfast sandwich on a croissant with egg white and pepperjack cheese, hold the bacon. “Excellent choice, sir!” you commented. “Our breakfast croissant is one of our most popular choices. That’ll be $11.09, please.” 

He slipped his wallet out and you watched curiously as he took a gold card out. American Express. ‘Oh, he must have money,’ you thought, oozing with attraction for him instantly. 

You took the card and thanked him before swiping it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a card that looks like this before,” you chuckled. “It’s so heavy yet lightweight at the same time!” You read his name on the card: Nanami Kento. 

“Well, when you’re working the demanding job I do and own your own apartment, you need a card like that,” he wryly joked. “Everything I buy with it I pay it at the end of every month.” 

“I’ve never heard of such a card!” you said in awe. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do, sir?” The man gave you a funny look as if you just asked him if he was pregnant. “Um…I’m a florist,” he answered. “Sorry, I’m just not used to people asking me what I do. Conversation is scarce out there.” 

You hummed in agreement, handing him back his card. “I completely agree, but sometimes, it’s nice to just talk to someone.” He reached out to take the card, his fingers brushing yours as he did. His fingers are long and calloused. Maybe he played piano? The idea made your stomach flip excitedly for some reason. 

You coaxed him to have a seat and wait while you got his order together, brewing the coffee before getting his premade sandwich out of the kitchen fridge to toast.

As you did so, you heard him on the phone again, sounding irritated and frustrated with his coworker on the other line. So you did something to cheer him up: without him looking, you snuck a daisy-shaped sugar cookie into his to-go bag and then called his name from the desk. “Nanami!” you called, smiling at him. 

His head shot toward you and he got up, walking ever so elegantly toward you in his red bottom shoes. He took the bag from you, thanking you. “Sorry, but I don’t remember telling you my name,” he said. Fear struck you at first, thinking you offended him, but then you see a playful glint in his eye. 

“That’s because you didn’t,” you giggled sheepishly. “I forgot to ask, so I may have peeked at your Amex card. Please come again, sir.”

Nanami’s orgasmic eyes looked into yours for a moment, his handsome face making it so hard to concentrate. “Nanami,” he corrected you. “Thank you, Ms. L/N.”

As he turned around to leave with his breakfast, you pulled a face, wondering how he knew your name…and then you remembered your name tag and squeezed your thighs together. “Come again soon!” you called as he walked out into the rain, putting his hat back on his head. 

The rest of the day was filled with thoughts of Nanami. While unbeknownst to you, Nanami’s head swam with tortuous images of the pretty baker with the beautiful skin, gorgeous smile, warm personality, and hip-hugging jeans as he ate his daisy-shaped cookie, shivering in delight at the taste. 

Since that day, he has come in often. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes on his lunch break, but he always orders a coffee and you always sneak something sweet as a pick-me-up in his bag. Sometimes he leaves and sometimes he sits to sip on his coffee, only chomping down on your pick-me-up once he leaves. 

One day, a month later on a beautiful April day, he comes in during a lunch break when you and Yuki and Mai, your coworkers and friends, are taking care of the lunch rush crowd while Todo, Megumi, and Yuji work in the kitchen. 

Yuki ogles him as he walks in, extremely obvious and not trying to hide it from behind the counter. “Damn, he’s fine,” she whispers. “Who the fuck is that?” Mai walks past her with a tray of eclairs to replace beneath the glass displays. “Y/N’s very loyal customer,” she giggles. “He’s been in here almost every day to see her.” 

You are busy washing glasses when you see Nanami and you give him a nod and a smile, acknowledging his presence. He nods back, patiently waiting while you set up. “Really?!” Yuki gasps, gaping at you. “Y/N, how come you never told me you have a boyfriend now?” 

The kitchen doors open, signaling the arrival of one of the boys. “Who’s got a boyfriend?” Yuji curiously asks. “Here’s the fresh batch of peach cobblers you needed, Y/N.” You look down at the delicious pastries. “Thank you, Yuji, and no, I don’t have a boyfriend. He just comes in here often because he enjoys the coffee and ambiance!” 

You glare at Yuki who gives you a knowing look, her lips pursed. “Mmm, I bet it’s the ambiance, alright,” she purrs, bumping her hip with yours as she walks by to tend to the coffee machine. 

Then Nanami comes walking up while the girls giggle among themselves. You quickly straighten up and smile at the blonde. “Nanami, it’s good to see you again! What can I get you today?” 

The stoic blonde gives you another nod of acknowledgment, his coat open today to reveal his suit and tie. “You as well, Ms. L/N,” he says in his smooth-like-butter voice. “Just the usual, please. I have a meeting so I have to hurry back.” He checks his watch, looking quite pensive. 

“Sure thing,” you say and begin to fix up his pastry while you give Yuki his drink order. While you do s, Mai walks past you, her apron replaced with a gorgeous red top and jeans, and gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Headin’ out for the lunch date, hon? Just be careful, okay?”

The black-haired beauty turns and smiles at you. “Gotchu!” she calls. But then she pauses for a moment and smiles at Nanami. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mai, Y/N’s friend.” 

You could choke her as you watch Nanami’s ears turn red. With a giggle and a wink your way, she goes skipping out the door into the wonderful spring air. You sigh, busying yourself with heating up his sandwich. Nanami stands by the counter, the silence filled with the whistle of the latte maker and the hum of the microwave. 

He suddenly clears his throat, earning your attention. “Nice day for a date, I suppose,” he awkwardly says. He’s trying hard to make conversation. You giggle to yourself at his adorable awkwardness. “Agreed, but my date will probably be with my dog later. It’ll be beautiful weather for a walk.” 

The ding of the bell above the door rings, signaling the arrival of another customer. You look at Yuki and give her a wink, hurrying to finish making Nanami’s drink while she takes care of the customer. “So there are no suitable bachelors lined up for you right now?”

Nanami curiously asks. You blink at him, shocked by the question. Quickly, he tries to backtrack. “I apologize if that’s too personal.” 

“No, you’re fine!” you hurriedly reply. “At least you’re not asking me what time I get off…which yes, that has happened before many times.” But if Nanami were to ask you this, you can’t say you’d say no. “Dating just isn’t in the cards for me right now with running a business and all.” 

Nanami nods, watching your hands move as you maneuver the foam machine for the top of the latte. “What about you?” you quip, smiling at him. “I’m sure a guy as handsome as you has a girl on his arm.”

You expect Nanami to laugh at this, but he doesn’t. Instead, his frown deepens and you feel like offing yourself. “I-I’m sorry,” you gasp. “That was so inappropriate to say.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts you. “That’s very sweet of you.” A light, pink blush lightly coats his cheeks, making your heart flutter. “And no dating for me either, I’m afraid. My life is just too busy and demanding for such.”

He pauses as if thinking and his eyes flick down to your hands. “But if anyone deserves a nice date in such nice weather, I’m sure everyone in here would agree that it’s you.” 

You stop and stare at him for a moment, shocked by his sweet words and game. You damn near burn his sandwich from spacing out because of his words, so much so that Yuki has to turn off the microwave because you don’t hear it beeping. You don’t know why Nanami’s compliment stuns you so much. It’s just a compliment! 

And then you realize it’s because of how genuine it is. You can tell he means it. You can’t deny the way it affects you as you finish his order. Your hands shake as you wrap up his sandwich and secretly place a sun-shaped sugar cookie into his to-go bag.

You give him a smile that you hope doesn’t wobble as you pass him his order. “Have a nice day, Nanami,” you softly say. 

He takes the coffee and bag, his hands lightly brushing against yours. You feel something explode within you from even the slightest touch of your fingers. You search his face, wondering if he felt it too. “Kento,” he corrects you. “You as well, Ms. L/N.”

You nearly melt beneath his gaze. “Y/N,” you correct him. 

He gives you a small smile before heading off to work, taking the intoxicating scent of his cologne and your head with him. Yuki is the one who brings you back down to earth, carrying two iced coffees. “Oooh, that was sexy to watch,” she giggles. “Y/N, your man is such a man.” 

“He’s not my man,” you grumble, glaring at her. “Quiet and take the drinks to my customers, please.” She just laughs, skipping away while you attempt to gather yourself. 

Yuki’s joke unfortunately sticks: “Your man is here, Y/N.” This is what your coworkers began telling you and teasing you with once Nanami started showing up more frequently. He sometimes shows up on his lunch, chatting with people on the phone about orders from his florist shop, but it’s mostly in the mornings on the way to work. 

And every single time, you hope that he asks you out. But he never does. But even so, you look forward to seeing him again. So when Yuki, your fellow coworker, and co-baker says it again–“Your man is here again, Y/N”–you turn towards her and react like she just told you that there is a hundred-dollar bill under your shoe or like you’ve got a great ass. The blonde woman smirks from the side counter where she is fixing the pastry displays, not even looking up when the bell above the front door rings. 

It is a beautiful day in May, blue skies and sunshine with a pleasant 70-degree breeze. You were happy to start your day this morning because of the weather, but now, it just got even better. Nanami has ditched his coat for a simple yet sexy blue button-down, his zany tie, and slacks. 

He looks much better than you in your flour-dusted apron after baking bread before the store opened this morning. “Hi, Kento!” you chirp. “Oh, is this a friend of yours?”

Behind him, he not only carries his briefcase but also an equally handsome, tall man with snow-white hair, blue eyes, and a kind of swagger you know has people’s undies dropping for him. The opposite of Nanami, it appears. Nanami looks like he dreaded you asking. “Unfortunately,” he sighs. 

The white-haired stranger moves beside Nanami and puts a hand out for a shake. “Hello, miss,” he greets. “Gojo Satoru, pleased to meet you. I’m a longtime friend of Kento’s. We go waaaaay back.” You look at Nanami who looks like he wants to die. “Nice to meet you,” you laugh, shaking Gojo’s hand. 

Gojo gives you another Colgate smile. “Kenny has told me so much about you, you know,” he teasingly says, earning a death stare from Nanami. “Oops, shouldn’t have said that! Here, Ken, you take it from here. That cobbler has my name on it.” He strides over to the glass display of pastries and baked goods, leaving you both alone. 

Nanami gives you an apologetic look but you giggle it off. “So how’s it going today? Can I get you anything?” You mentally prepare to get his usual order ready, but he shakes his head and fixes his tie, looking nervous for some reason. “Uh…it’s going well and no, I’m in a hurry, but…I wanted to give you these.” 

He then slowly takes his arm from behind his back and reveals a bouquet of the most beautiful and bright red, yellow, and pink tulips you’ve ever seen wrapped in paper. For you.

“Oh!” you gasp, placing a hand on your heart. “Oh.” He hands them to you over the counter, much to the prying eyes of your friends and other customers in the bakery. 

“They’re from my shop,” he explains despite you not even asking. “I wasn’t aware what color you liked, but I figured bright ones couldn’t hurt.”

He gives you a sheepish, nervous smile which is quite a sight from such a stoic and calm man. You gently stroke one of the tulips’ soft petals and inhale the sweet perfume of them. You can’t remember the last time a man surprised you with anything, let alone flowers. 

You are touched and absolutely floored for him. “I love them, Kento,” you whisper. “Thank you.” You give him a smile which he crookedly returns. “You’re welcome…and I also wanted to ask you something.” 

“Okay,” you say because what the fuck else can you say? He leans over the counter, giving you a whiff of his cologne. It has you thinking about him doing very naughty things with you over the counter. “I know you said before that your life makes dating hard and whatnot, and I’ll completely understand if you say no, but…my friend recently mentioned to me that I shouldn’t let good things pass me by, so…” 

His eyes shift to Gojo who is sipping on a lavender iced latte and giving him a thumbs up, not even trying to act like he isn’t listening. The florist turns back to you, his cheeks pink. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me one day?” It’s meant to be a statement, but it comes out as a question. 

You stand there stunned for a moment, your brain moving slowly. You’ve been waiting for so long for him to ask you out and now he is! Nanami takes your silence for a no and visibly withers. “Forget what I said,” he sighs. “Please. That was so stupid of me. I’m so–” 

“Nanami, I’d love to,” you quickly reply, breaking out into a huge, dumb smile that hurts your cheeks. “Is Friday night okay? I get off at 7 PM.” The florist looks shocked and then his face softens with relief and happiness. “Friday at 7 sounds perfect.” 

Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you stare at him, clutching his flowers close to your chest. “Did ya ask her yet, Nanami?!” Gojo shouts from the other side of the room. 

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I have to go take him out back and shoot him. Is it okay if I call the bakery?” You giggle at his joke but then give him a crooked smile, staring at him beneath your lashes. “It would….but I think having my number would be better, don’t you?” 

The florist stares at you, shaken by the flirty little line you threw. But it works! You end up getting Nanami’s number instead and putting a little flower next to his contact.

Just so he doesn’t waste your or your staff’s time, Nanami orders an iced latte and gives you a bashful smile when you take it from him. “I’ll see you Friday then.” You nod and watch him leave with Gojo. Mai comes up behind you along with Yuki, both girls having watched everything go down from behind you. “Smooth, Y/N,” Mai whispers. “Very smooth.” 

For the rest of the week, you anticipate Friday night for your date with Nanami. You plan your outfit according to the weather, shave your legs and kitty beforehand, and smile at your tulips every morning when you wake up, reminded every morning of what is to come. But then you get a cold. Spring is good for most things, but immunity? Fuck no. 

You go in on Friday morning anyway, snotting, sneezing, and your voice scratchy. Yuki and Mai scold you two hours into your shift, snatching your apron from you. “For God’s sake, Y/N, just go home!” Mai snaps. You sound awful! We can handle the bakery without you for a few days until you get better.”

Yuki nods, helping you get into your jacket and passing you an extra box of tissues for the road. “And no sucking faces with the hot blonde man till you get rid of this cold.” 

So you go home and immediately hit Nanami up while lounging on your couch in your sweats and slippers, your nose stinging from blowing it so much and your throat congested. This is the first time you’re calling him and you feel nervous. Your heart pounds with every ring from the other line, but when he finally picks up, you just about melt. 

“Hello?” He asks, his deep, silky voice filling your ear. “Hi, Nanami, it’s me,” you say, cringing at your sick voice. “I’m so sorry to do this, but you think we can take a rain check on that date? I’m sick.” 

“Of course,” he says, sounding concerned. “Just remember to eat and rest up, okay? I recommend lots of herbal tea too.” You feel your heart burst at his advice and worry for you. “You would recommend that,” you giggle, crossing your ankles on the couch. “Any ones I can use for medicine?” 

Nanami is happy to tell you. “I don’t think you’d need it, but honeysuckle flowers work for coughs and sore throats.” You nod and lay your head back against the couch, listening to him, falling in love with his voice. “Tell me more,” you whisper. “I-If you’re not busy.” 

His light chuckle makes you throb between your legs. For the next twenty minutes before he’s forced to leave due to his duties, he tells you all about plants and flowers which somehow leads to you talking about your favorite things to do, hobbies, foods, etc.

When you finally hang up for the day, all you want is to talk to him again, so you hurry to get better. Nanami checks on you every single day which only makes your attraction to him grow. 

When you return back to work a week later, finally free of your cold, you’re welcomed with big hugs and a gift package complete with a coffee mug, fuzzy socks, tea bags, chocolates, and a gift card to your favorite store. “It was my idea!” Todo proudly says. 

“Mine too, you big bitch!” Yuji snaps. 

“I bought the gift card since these two were broke,” Megumi says. 

You laugh at the boys, hugging each of them. “That’s so sweet, guys,” you coo, hugging the gift package close to you. You begin to walk to the back to set your things down in the employee lounge, but you stop. There, on the counter, sits a bouquet of beautiful, vibrant azalea flowers. 

You walk up to the flowers, your heart skipping a beat. “Did you guys get these too?” you ask, pointing at the gorgeous flowers. Yuki shakes her head, much to your relief and joy. “No, these were delivered this morning. There was no ID; just a tag that said ‘The Greenhouse on the Hill’.”

Nanami’s flower shop. 

You break into the biggest smile you have ever made. That afternoon when you return home with your gorgeous flowers, you set them on the kitchen counter and hit Nanami up, already anticipating the sound of his silky, sexy voice.

Four rings go by before he actually answers. “Yes?” he asks, sounding somewhat irked. Your stomach drops at his shortness. “Hi, Nanami…is this a bad time?” 

“Shit,” he sighs apologetically. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t even look at your contact. The shop has been so busy with Mother’s Day coming up and all of these fucking spring weddings, excuse me language.” 

“I get it,” you giggle, leaning against the counter. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss though.” And it’s fucking hot. “I got your flowers today. Thank you.” 

“I’m just glad they came on time,” he says, relieved. “I was so sure they’d get there later in the week…and you’re welcome. I was hoping it’d make up for us missing our date.” 

You gently fiddle with one of the flower petals, biting your bottom lip. “I also wanted to call you about that,” you shyly begin. “Since we didn’t go on our date and I’m still building up my immune system since my cold, why don’t I invite you over to my shop and I can cook you something?” 

Nanami is quiet for a moment and you begin to think that you may have suggested something dumb. “You haven’t been to my shop yet,” he states.

Not waiting for an answer, he continues: “Instead of me coming there, why don’t you come here and I can cook you dinner? As you said, it’d be better to stay away from other people since you’re building your immune system back up and…” He stops abruptly. “Sorry,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I’m rambling.” 

“It’s okay,” you giggle despite him blushing on the other line. You are just as bashful, feeling warm all over at the thought of Nanami cooking for you and visiting his shop. “I like that idea, Nanami. I’m good with this Friday night if that works for you.” 

“Perfect,” he sighs. “I’ll pick you up at the bakery at 7.” You hang up and giddily fix yourself some wine, unwinding after a day of business. 

As the week goes on, you wait impatiently for Friday to make its appearance. When it finally does, you hurriedly change in the bathroom at work, do your makeup, and slip into a sundress that makes your skin pop, flats, and a jacket for the pleasant May air. When you step out, Mai and Yuki gape at you. 

“Oooh, you look so good, Y/N!” Yuki exclaims. “Blondie ain’t gonna know what hit him! He’ll be dying to eat you instead of–” 

“Hush!” you bark. “This is our first date, Yuki. I don’t do that on the first date.” You turn away to apply some more lipgloss to your lips, making your lips look extra plump and appetizing. 

“Ugh, not that shit!” Mai huffs, giving you a sharp look. “If you two like each other and are attracted to one another, who cares?! You should see the way he looks at you, Y/N! It’s like he’d bend you over the counter and fuck you if we weren’t here.” She gives your ass a squeeze in your sundress. 

“I’m shutting this convo down now,” you firmly say, batting her hand away. “Nanami and I like each other, yes, but we’re taking it slow. I wanna get to know him until we–” 

A knock on the door cuts you off and you turn, finding Nanami standing there. The girls laugh among each other as you race to the door. “Both of you, shut up!” you hiss before opening the door. Your date looks absolutely fuck worthy in a black polo shirt, tan slacks, and dress shoes. Very casual yet still sexy. “Hi, Nanami!” you chirp. “M’ready now.” 

“Have fun, you two!” Yuki shouts once you fetch your work bag. “Y/N, be home before dark, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You ignore her and leave with Nanami, stepping out into the warm air. Nanami looks adoringly at you under the street lamps. “You look really nice,” he shyly says. You let the compliment wash over you, flattered. “It’s only a short walk from here,” he says. “Just follow me.” 

Greenhouse on the Hill really is a short walk from your bakery. You can’t believe you’ve never seen him around before with how close your places of business are. It is a quaint little white store with planted flowers blooming along its windows and along the steps you walk up with Nanami. In the back is a greenhouse to which he leads you to. He takes a ring of keys out and unlocks the door before flicking on the light. 

Your eyes widen at the dozens of flowers, plants, and herbs surrounding the large glass greenhouse. You step into the warm, toasty greenhouse, smiling from ear to ear. “Wow, Nanami!” you gasp in awe. “This is beautiful! You planted all of these yourself?” 

The florist closes the door and steps beside you, trying to hide his prideful smile. ”From scratch. I can give you a tour if you want.” He offers you his elbow and you waste no time taking it, his cologne making you dizzy. “Please,” you reply, soft and breathless from him being so close. 

For the next twenty minutes, Nanami introduces you to his many flowers and plants, telling you which ones are meant for which holidays and occasions; what colors go best with certain bouquets; what flowers match certain personalities, etc. You try to listen and learn, but you’re so wrapped up in how sexy his voice is that you find yourself thinking of other things. 

When he finally realizes how long he’s been talking for and blushes as bright as the roses you stop in front of. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I’m rambling again.” You shake your head, gently stroking his arm. “Don’t be sorry. I like listening to you speak. You’re so passionate about this and it’s obviously something you love.” 

Nanami’s gaze shifts and the way he looks at you now feels intimate and tender. It fills you with tingles all the way down to your toes. “What?” You exhale. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he decides not to. “Nothing,” he says. “We should eat before the food wastes. I have wine too.” 

He has you wait while he goes back to the shop and comes back minutes later with a blanket that he lays on the floor and a picnic basket. Inside lies two wine glasses, a chilled wine bottle, rice balls, homemade salad, and for dessert, one of your famous crème brûlées from your bakery. “I came in early before you got there,” Nanami explains as you gape down at the cake. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

You swear you could kiss him. 

The dinner is straight out of a Disney movie. The food is delicious, the wine is refreshing and loosens you both up, and the conversation is even better. You and Nanami sit next to each other on the blanket, shoes off and completely at ease. You chat about your likes and dislikes; your favorite movies and most embarrassing moments. You find that Nanami is very funny is an unintentional way and whenever you joke, you find yourself falling in love with his laugh. 

By the time you get to dessert, half of the wine is gone and you’re ready to jump him every time he dips his spoon into the sweet French dessert and wraps his lips around it to slurp up the treat. Once he finishes, he sits back and exhales, full. “Wow,” he sighs. “That has to be the best creme brûlée I have ever had. You have quite the gift, Y/N.” 

You make a noise between a grunt and a laugh, modest and shy from such a compliment. “You don’t think so?” he asks, looking honestly hurt by the idea. “You should. You make people happy with what you make them, even if it’s just a simple coffee. You put such love into your business and it shows. Your personality makes it even better. I would bet people keep coming back for that…such as me.” 

His eyes are tender and genuine, his smile even more so. You finally cannot fight off the effects of him or the wine anymore and move in closer to him. He watches you, not moving a muscle as you strip off your jacket to reveal the spaghetti straps and your bare shoulders underneath. “Kento,” you softly say. “I really want you to kiss me.” 

The florist scoots closer to you until your knees are touching. “And I really want to kiss you,” he replies. His eyes flicker to your mouth, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he gulps.

“So do it,” you whisper, barely speaking; just exhaling. And then, finally, his lips find yours. 

His kiss is just as magical, careful, and sweet as he is. He lets you take most of the lead, his hands settling respectfully on your waist. But you want more. Need more. So you make it known by placing a hand on his cheek and deepening the kiss, leading to a full-on passionate, heated makeout session that has your head spinning and toes curling. 

Nanami’s lips leave yours to plant feverish kisses on your neck and throat. You tilt your head back, welcoming the kisses and embracing him as you do. He does the same to you, your smaller body encased in his bigger, more muscular one. It feels good—so good that you can quickly feel your panties becoming uncomfortably wet. “Kento,” you whine. 

He gets the message and kisses up to your ear. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” he whispers. “I won’t go any further than you want me to. Just tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His teeth lightly nibble at your ear, drawing a soft whine out of you. 

“I want you,” you moan. “I want you to fuck me right here.” He pulls away, shocked at the dirty request coming out of you. You place a hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently. “Please,” you add, batting your lashes at him. 

Nanami places a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip. “How can I refuse a thing as pretty as you?” He asks himself. You nearly suck him off right there and then. 

Minutes later after agonizing foreplay, your spell works on Nanami and you find yourself out of your clothes and only in your panties with the handsome florist on top of you. His soft lips are attached to your nipples, sucking gently yet eagerly at the hardened, brown peaks while you moan and writhe beneath his touch.

His hands idly play with your sides while yours are sunk in his scalp. “Mmm, Nanami,” you moan, your fingers in his blonde hair. “That feels so good. I should’ve known a florist would be so good with his hands, but his mouth too?” 

Nanami loves how you sound moaning his name. You can tell by the hard-on you feel pressing against your inner thigh protruding from his slacks. He removes his lips from your nipple, greedy eyes staring up into yours. “You haven’t seen how good I can be yet,” he growls into your ear. “But only if that’s what you want.” 

You already know what he wants and you can’t express him how much you want more with your words. You hope your body––your hard nipples, labored breath, and wet pussy pressing against his thigh––say what you can’t. 

“Is that what you want?” you softly ask. The blonde shocks you by taking your hand and boldly placing it on his hard dick. You softly gasp at how big he feels in your hand, the shaft thick and pulsing in your palm. “What do you think?” He whispers, obvious, molten lust in his eyes. 

That is all you need to hear. Immediately, you grab him and kiss him passionately, emitting porn-worthy moans from his lips that travel into yours. I want your clothes off too,” you softly exhale, earning an agreeable groan from the blonde. Your hands yank and snatch at his clothes, helping him out of his shirt and pants. You work together to strip him, laughing as you do and sharing heated kisses. 

Nanami is truly a sight to behold naked. He is a beefcake but he isn’t a gym rat. His arms are big and toned, perfect for wrapping you up in. His pectorals are juicy and squeezeable, sinewy with a sexy cluster of blonde chest hair that matches his toned lower stomach that you want to lick and kiss. You do so, kissing up his luscious physique while he gives you encouraging moans and sighs like a touch-starved man. 

His lower half is just as impressive: a firm ass, toned thighs and legs that could crush some skulls, and a V-line that traces down to the promised land. You ogle at his hard cock print in his briefs, your hand moving to grab it. Nanami’s bottom lip catches between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your warm hand on his shaft. 

“I want somethin’ else to,” you whisper. He raises a questionable brow. “Can we 69?” You suggest, running one hand up his chest while the other palms his dick. The florist opens his eyes and gives you a shocked look like you suggested you do some crazy BDSM shit on the first date. 

Before you can take a breath, Nanami is lying down on his back and gripping your hips to force you on top of him. You squeal with laughter, delighted by his eagerness and his strength. “I’ll take that as a yes!” You laugh as you place your hands on his chest and situate yourself. 

You look back at him, finding his lustful eyes peering up at you from behind. “I’m not much of a man of words as I’m sure you know, darling,” he says. “I’m better with actions.” He then pulls your panties to the side and proceeds to slurp you up like you’re the first meal he’s had all day. 

“Oh, Kento, fuck!” You moan, unable to hold anything back. You grind your ass back into him as his lips and tongue dance across your clit and sodden wet pussy, taking his time getting to know you. “I thought you said you wanted to 69,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled by your cunt. 

His cock switches impatiently in his briefs and you giggle.  “Yes, sir,” you hum, already working to push his briefs down his waist. His cock pops out from its trap and gently slaps against his stomach, hard, thick, and veiny. You could stare at it all night, but all you want to do now is touch and taste it. So you wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke, pump, slurp, and spit to your heart’s content. 

Nanami grinds his hips up into your touch as you pump him in time with your mouth, enveloping him with your lips and tongue. You encourage him to do so, moaning out tiny “mmm-hmm”s while you eagerly bob your head, sending vibrations throughout his shaft that travel up his body. “Shit, darling,” he gasps. “That feels fuckin’ amazing.” 

Hearing him be so vulgar makes you gush into his mouth, excited by this calm man losing his shit for you. You don’t blame him. Seeing your pretty nails and brown skin contrast with his complexion while your fingers stretch around his cock shiny with your spit is doing things to you too. “Yeah?” You coo. “You like fuckin’ my throat, baby boy?” 

You put it on him once again, gagging all over his dick much to his enjoyment. “God!” he gasps, his toes curling and his hands gripping your ass. “That’s just not fair.”

He lets his actions elaborate on that instead of his words, going back to slurping down your pussy and distracting you from your work. Feeling your body shake and shudder makes him chuckle, proud of his skills. 

After a couple of minutes of enjoying this position, Nanami gladly spending time between your soft thighs and you giving him as much neck as he can take, you finally can’t take anymore of it. You throw in the towel and look back at him, mouth coated in spit. “I need you, Kento,” you whine. “I need you to fuck me please!” 

You feel his cock twitch at your plea. He doesn’t hesitant to remove himself from your pussy, instead giving you all of his attention. “How do you want it, darling?” he asks. “I’ll give it to you however you want.” 

You choose to be on your back first. Nanami obliges and helps you off of him to lay on the blanket. You wrap your arms around him, kissing him as he hikes your legs up around his waist. And gently, gently, places himself inside of you. The tiny act of his head sliding inside of you is enough to emit a gasp from the both of you. His eyes meet yours, concern in them. 

Though it is a stretch after not being with anyone for a while, it feels good and you let him know by grinding your hips up into him. His handsome face screws up like he’s in pain, his lips parting on a silent moan. “More,” you whisper. “Give me more, Kento.” 

How can he possibly deny you? Placing his hands on either side of you, he leans down onto his elbows and begins to slowly rock his hips into you, driving his cock into you inch by inch. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as you take him, watching you react to his thick cock filling you up. “Look at me,” he demands. “Look at me while I fuck you.” 

You do so, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him despite the blinding pleasure you feel when he really begins to fuck you. He grips your hips to bring you closer to him as he drives himself into you, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. Moans and gasps leave your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders and your heels pressed into his ass. 

The more he fucks you, the more your pussy gushes for him. He must feel what you’re feeling too because his hips begin to stutter and his cock grows harder inside of you. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he huffs, his last threads of self-control leaving him. “But I can’t help but want to fuck you harder. You look too goddamn perfect bouncing on my cock like this.” 

The use of those lewd, filthy words coming from calm, cool and collected Nanami nearly has you gushing. “Do it then,” you urge. “Be rough with me, Kento. It’s okay.” You smile up at him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. “I trust you.” 

That’s enough to break him. Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he looks you dead in the eyes and slowly, agonizingly rolls his hips down into yours. “Tell me how you want it,” he growls against your lips. “Tell me how you want me to take this pussy.” 

You tell him just that and he gently pulls out of you before helping you onto your wobbly hands and knees. “Face down, baby,” he orders, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I want you exactly like this.” You do as he desires, pressing your face against the blanket while your ass is tooted up in the air. 

Nanami doesn’t hesitant to slide home inside you once more and grips your hips as he begins to nail your shit…and I mean, nail it. The man hits that spot again and again, sending you careening into bliss over and over again, your pussy gushing and shuddering around his merciless, thick cock. 

“God, Kento, yes!” You whine. “Yes, give it to me just like that! Fuck yes, yes, yes!” Your moans mix with his, bouncing off of the greenhouse walls and creating a symphony of pleasure that only the flowers and plants are privy to. 

“You like it like this, darling?” He pants from behind you. “You like gettin’ fucked just like this?” You nod wordlessly into the blanket, your hands gripping the fabric while he uses your ass as leverage to pull himself forward again and again, pistoning himself inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before: so eagerly and greedily. He needs this just as much as you do. 

The fact that he wants you just as much as you want him just about makes you break. You can feel that knot in your core about to snap, your pussy shuddering and fluttering around his pistoning cock. “N-Nanami,” you whimper. “Baby, I’m gonna cum soon. Y-You’ve gotta slow down!” 

“Why?” Nanami pants. “Why slow down when I’m about to make such a pretty pussy cum all over me?” He does slow down enough to lean down to whisper in your ear. “I want you close to him,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “I want to feel you when you cum.” 

You smile, delirious with the pleasure but coherent enough to want the same thing. He pulls you flush against him, his front against your back, and begins to fuck you from behind again. His moans and grunts fill your ear while yours bounce off the walls the more intensely he fucks you, one hand on your breast and the other on your ass. “Play with that clit,” he demands. “I want you to cum with me.” 

You whimper and whine as you do as he says, your fingers frantically rubbing your clit in time with his pounding. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to rise along with his. Your mouth falls open and you toss your head back, thrown into the throes of pleasure. “Kento!” You moan. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” 

“Me too,” he grunts, gripping you as close to him as you possibly can be. “Cum with me, darling! Give it to me!”

The desperate grunt he lets out as his own end nears throws you over the edge. You loop an arm back around his neck to pull him closer as you finally cum all over his cock. His own orgasm is triggered and he cums right after you, his body tensing as his orgasm zips through him. 

Moans of your release mingle in the air as you both climax, but then are silenced as you share a heated, passionate kiss with tongues included. Your pussy spasms against his cock, twitching and gripping him tightly until your orgasm finally fades, leaving you with a satisfied, beaming grin on your face. 

Once your high fades, Nanami pulls out of you with a soft moan, releases you, and slowly lays beside you on the blanket. You cradle one another, arms and legs loosely tangled with one another as you stare up at the glass greenhouse ceiling. You look up at Nanami, your eyes drinking in his body coated in sweat and the afterglow. 

You just had sex with a man on the first date. You find yourself not regretting it at all. Nanami, catching you looking at him, turns to you and gives you a crooked smile. 

“What a way to end a first date,” he breathlessly chuckles. 

You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to his knuckles. “And start many more,” you add, smiling up at him. The smile he gives you is one that makes you so happy that you met him and he presses a soft kiss to your hand as well. “Definitely.” 

THE END. 

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter V: We Don’t Have to Talk About it.

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

songs for this chapter: cool about it by boygenius, pink pony club by chappell roan

summary: the celebrations for Chris’s return continue, this time with the first Corroded Coffin show in years!

a/n: everything i write in these chapters makes me want to write more LET’S GOOOO. keep an eye out for a new tab in coming chapters ;)

chapter tags: mean!eddie, mean!reader, fighting, weed, drinking, angst, hurt/no comfort, talks of adult content creation | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author!

—

You are determined to have a lazy, relaxing day off. Your brother’s gone out for a job interview, so you once again have your apartment to yourself. You start by indulging in a greasy homemade bacon egg and cheese sandwich, made on a toasted everything bagel slathered in butter. You savor it with sips of coffee consumed on your front porch, hoping your nextdoor neighbors aren’t awake yet to pollute the area with cigar smoke.

When you’re finished eating, you pluck the book you’ve been reading from its spot on the couch and make your way to the bathroom. One compromise you’d refused to make when apartment hunting: you needed a bathtub. No walk in shower bullshit. You’d gotten your wish with this old duplex, the bathroom, though a garish purple color, came with a beautiful clawfoot tub.

You let the water warm before plugging the drain, peeling off your pajamas and wrapping yourself in your soft, freshly washed robe. You have a routine on days like this. You’ll take a bath, smoke a joint and sip your coffee in the tub while you read at least three chapters before the water gets cold. You queue your On Repeat playlist, not willing to skip around every song in your library. The music sets a nice ambiance humming through your bluetooth speaker as you sink into the warm water, bubbles creating a soft blanket over your naked form. You release a sigh as you slip up to your neck, relishing in the warmth engulfing you. When your muscles feel loose, you dry your hands on the towel you’ve set aside, and pluck the joint from the ashtray. The sweet smoke fills your lungs, causing a pleasant burn in your chest. You exhale slowly, grabbing your book from the makeshift side table you’ve put together.

Currently, you’re halfway through Normal People, your copy a bit worse for wear, pages water stained and spine snapped in several places. It’s already punctured your heart a few times, you can’t help but feel frustrated for Marianne. The high buzzes pleasantly in your brain as you read, creating vivid pictures in your head from the words on the page. Marianne morphs into you, and for some reason Connell has grown long, curly locks and grown an affection for silver rings. All of this, set to the musical stylings of Boygenius in your steam filled bathroom. You’re supposed to feel at ease, but there’s a coil tightening in your belly you’re not sure how to stifle, making your chest flutter with excitement.

It becomes nearly impossible to focus on the story, so you set your book aside in favor of your phone. You’re careful to hold it above the water, scrolling through your various feeds to see what your friends are up to.

Stevie (@ thehairington): i’m never letting rob aux again for as long as i live

rob (@ lilbirdie): not MY fault ur a big baby!!!!!

b (@ babybeez): … do i wanna know what song ?

rob (@ lilbirdie): pink pony club! i thot it would be fun!!

b (@ babybeez): oh ur evil

Stevie (@ thehairington): RIGHT!!!

You giggle, imagining Steve as he and Robin drive to work, breaking down as Chappell sings, “You're always on my mind / And mama, every Saturday / I can hear your southern drawl a thousand miles away, saying GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE,” and you wish you were with them. Maybe you’ll go bother them later, once you grow tired of being with only yourself for company. You exit out of Twitter and open Instagram, the first picture when your feed loads being the last people you want to see right now. It’s a picture of Eddie, clearly taken by someone else. He’s sticking his tongue out at the camera, standing in front of The Hideout.

@ thefreakmunson: come thru tonite, corroded coffin plays at ten.

Ugh, right. It’s Tuesday. Your mother is definitely gonna call you to work tonight, and your good mood flies out the window. As if reading your mind, your phone dings, but it’s not your mother.

Eddie (block later.): Is my favorite bartender workin tonite?? ;)

You seem to stab each letter as you reply:

god i fuckin hope not.

he replies only with :(

__

It takes another hour for your mom to text you.

mama: hi honey, i know i tell you every week you can have tues off, but i just got a call from chris’s buddies telling me they’re coming to surprise him tonight. would u mind? i’ll owe u

you love your mom more than anything, but you can’t tell her you’d do it for nothing, because it’s going to be torture. Ever since Chris joined the band when Gareth went to college, you’d been avoiding working Tuesdays even more than before. The band hadn’t played their usual nighttime slot since Chris had come home, so the crowd is expected to be substantial.

yea of course mom, see u at 8

mama: thx baby bee

You look at the clock, the red lights reading 12:00 PM. Still plenty of time to go get your friends to come out tonight, despite them both having to work tomorrow. Luckily, they love you, so you don’t expect to have a hard time. You take your time getting dressed, humming along to the music as you comb your hair and do your makeup. Once you're satisfied, You migrate to your closet to pick out an outfit for tonight. Something devious plays in your brain, and you want an outfit that will draw attention. You want to look hotter than you feel, hoping to trick yourself into confidence in the face of a possibly awful night. You look hot though, in a cropped black t-shirt and form hugging jeans, and take the opportunity to post a long overdue selfie.

—

“Bee!” Robin squeals when you enter the record store, far too excited to see you.”You look hot!” Now she’s complimenting you. Something’s up.

You make your way through the long outdated shop, surrounded by walls lined with records ranging from the 60s to 90s exclusively, and a floor dusty with loose boards that creak loudly with every step. It’s a miracle this place has enough business to stay open. You like to conspire that the owner Mr. Summers is in the Mob, and this place has been his front since it opened in ‘86. You keep that in your diary only, though.

“Should I duck and cover?” You direct the question at Steve, who’s standing at the counter with a big grin on his face. “Not you, too. What’s going on?”

“You’re gonna want to kiss him when you hear this.”

“Oh?”

“Do you wanna tell her?” Robin calls over her shoulder.

“Well actually—,”

“He got us Chappell tickets.”

Your mouth falls open so fast you feel your jaw pop.

“She’s in Indy this weekend, and I happened to have some extra money from, y’know,” Robin holds her hand up, “We do not need to hear about your OnlyFans, Steve.”

Steve shrugs. “And yet, I still let you reap the rewards.”

You squint at him. “Are you doing a bit right now?”

They shake their heads, faces flushed from laughter.

“Seriously?”

“Look me up, stevethestallion.” His tone is even now, all traces of joking gone.

You call his bluff, and type the website you definitely haven’t used before into the browser. When it definitely doesn’t already have you logged in, you type in the alleged username. “One or two e’s?”

“Just one, I can’t compare to Megan like that!”

You shake your head, hitting search. The page loads. The account is behind a 25 dollar pay wall, but the visible follower count reads 35K. The profile picture is faceless, a shirtless torso with an abundance of chest hair, and the smallest hint of a happy trail. You click on it, purely for further investigation. You find your answer when you can see the faintest outline in the background of the same exact Tame Impala poster that Steve has hanging over his bed.

“Oh my fucking god. Hell yeah, dude.” You laugh, and Steve seems to release a held breath. “What, you think I'd be, like, grossed out? This is hot. And a really smart financial endeavor, apparently.”

Robin nods in agreement. “With perks!” The three of you burst into laughter.

When you’ve settled, breathing heavily to avoid lingering giggles, you turn to face them again. “Now, after this I feel even worse for asking you guys for a favor, but I’m desperate.”

“You want us to come out tonight?” Steve doesn’t miss a beat.

You straighten your back, suddenly bashful. “How’d you know?”

He clears his throat, signaling Robin to continue.

“Eddie uh, invited us out.” She rushes out.

You suck your lips between your teeth, nodding stiffly. “‘Course he did, yeah.”

“Asked me if you were working.” She adds, and you meet her gaze, panicked.

“And you said?” She shrugs. “What does that mean?”

“I literally sent him the shrug emoji.”

“I mean, you are, right?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Okay. This is fine. Everything will be fine.”

Robin cages you in, planting a hand on each of your shoulders. “You’ll get through it. Do it for Chappell.”

You lean into the dramatics. “Of course, for Chappell.”

—

Chappell owes you, big time. Tuesdays have gone from a quiet, boring weeknight with less than five hundred dollars in the register by the end of the night. Unfortunately, those days have long since ended since you’d left for college. Every Tuesday, Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin plays The Hideout, despite your begging and pleading with your mom to stop booking them.

“I can’t!” She’d reason, “Not if you and your brother want anything to help pay for my funeral!” She was being dramatic, for the most part. But they did bring in the green, as much as you hate to admit it. Apparently a popular music reviewer had given them a shoutout, garnering them an actual audience. You‘re happy for the guys, mostly. You just aren’t in the mood to be the people pleasing, flirty bartender tonight.

It’s almost ten when the van finally pulls into the back lot. “Where the hell have you guys been?” You hiss when your brother exits the driver’s side.

“Had to make a stop.” The irritation in his voice is palpable. You motion for him to elaborate, and he jerks his head to where Eddie is opening the back door, offering his hand out to help Macy climb out. “Sat in her fuckin’ driveway for twenty minutes.”

You glare daggers at the pair of them, and Eddie must feel them on his neck because he jerks his head, eyes immediately meeting yours. You don’t let up, hoping your expression translates the rage you feel in your gut. Eddie is the first to break the staring contest, looking back to the woman on his arm. She meets his gaze with a glare of her own, and he whispers something to her that breaks her grimace into a giggle. Your palms start to sweat.

“Go, we’ll start setting your shit up. Mom’s hysterical.”

“Okay. I’ll run damage control after. Sorry, Beebs.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not you that’s gonna be sorry.” You send another seething look to the pair walking to the stage door, attached at the hip and without even a halfhearted acknowledgement of their lateness. “Asshole.” You follow the rest of them inside, Chris on your heels.

“Where the hell have y'all been?!” Your mom exclaims when Chris enters the green room, a barely renovated office that fits about three and a half people at a time. You hand your brother off to be berated, and power walk to the stage to set up equipment. Your warpath comes to a screeching halt when you reach the wings, the scene playing out in front of you preventing you from moving further.

Eddie is sitting on a barstool, guitar forgotten on his lap as Macy stands over him, passionately licking into his mouth. Eddie’s eyes are closed, and he kisses her back with little restraint, the tent growing in his pants becoming obvious when the instrument begins to slide from his lap. He catches it without breaking from her, placing it on the stand next to him. You decide you don’t have time to wait for whatever this is to play out in its likely disgusting entirety, so you leave the comfort of the shadows and make your presence known.

“Ahem,” You clear your throat loudly, causing the couple to separate abruptly, each wiping the other’s saliva from their mouth. “Sorry to interrupt, but if you don’t want an entire crowd of pissed off drunks against you, you might wanna let me set up.”

“Hey, Bee.” Eddie recovers from embarrassment quickly, you’ll give him that. You nod in acknowledgment, knowing any words you give him will be laced with unnecessary venom.

“Eddie, baby, you wanna take this to the bathroom?” Macy’s tone is sultry, needy. You almost feel bad for her, being this hypnotized by Eddie’s charm. You wish you could help her, but it’s possible she’s too far gone.

“Yeah ‘course, baby. I’ll meet you there in a sec.” His gaze slides from her to where you stand across the stage, the only sounds coming from the patrons beyond the curtain.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” She slinks away, hips swaying. She brushes past you, leaving the sweet stench of her perfume behind. What demon did Eddie make a deal with?

“So,” Eddie muses, rising from the stool. “You’re workin’.”

“No shit, really?”

“Hey, don’t be mean. Just makin’ small talk.”

“That’s not necessary.” You unglue yourself from the floor, busying yourself with wires and speakers as Eddie keeps talking. “Just thought, y’know, you had tonight off.”

“I did,” You bite, “but then Chris invited the whole damn state of Indiana.”

“Ah, ‘course. The third homecoming party this week for the lovable Christopher L/n, convicted felon.” He chuckles, and you stop what you’re doing to respond. Something in you snaps, quick and clean.

“Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, and he throws his hands up.

“Whoa, I was kidding!”

“Shut up, I’m talking.” His eyes bulge out of his skull. “You have the audacity to make jokes about Chris, but he could’ve brought you right down with him. You were 18, a goddamn adult. But he kept his fucking mouth shut to protect you. You know who he didn’t fucking protect? When her bullies learned he wasn’t home anymore, or when she had fucking no one on her side and the one other kid she found comfort in never called her again?” You let loose, doing your best to keep your voice even. “You ever wonder what would’ve happened, Eddie? If the roles had been reversed, and Chris had done what you did? Don’t even pretend you’d forgive him for that. There’s something else going on, and I intend to find out what it is.”

He doesn’t interrupt your rant, instead holding your intense stare with apparent ease. When you finish, he waits a beat, letting the metaphorical dust settle. Finally, he answers. “You have to let it go, Bee. There are some things you just don’t wanna know. Don’t need to know. I will never not feel guilty about what I did, but I can’t tell you anything else. I wish I could, really.”

You’re careful with your next words. “But, if I were to figure it out without your help…?”

He catches your drift. “I probably wouldn’t be able to deny it convincingly.” Eddie shrugs, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ll let you set up. You gonna watch our set?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Eddie snickers. “That’s my girl.” And he walks offstage before you can react to the statement, or demand he at least pretend to help.

—

You make it back to the bar in time to save your mom from the massive line of rabid patrons.

“Where have you been?” She half shouts over the noise, pouring a glass of Guinness for one of Stan’s high school friends, Scotty, you’re almost certain.

“Setting up the stage!” You shout back, failing to hide the irritation in your voice. You turn to the booze hound in front of you. “What can I get you?”

You sense your mom moving closer, still grabbing glasses and bottles to pass across the counter. “No need for the attitude, Beebs.”

“Ugh, sorry. Just not what I wanted to be doing tonight.”

“Oh, and I just adore being here?” She nudges you until you grit your teeth, forcing a smile. “You wanna tell Mama what’s wrong?”

“Nah, not right now. We’ll dish later.” You love gossiping with your mom, but she knows Eddie. She knows what he’s like, what your past with him entails, and she’ll surely have plenty of insight for you.

As you take another order, the house lights dim and the crowd goes wild. You can’t help but turn your head towards the stage, where your brother’s friends have formed a pit in the front, whooping and hollering as the band takes the stage. Chris points to his friends with his drumstick, causing them to jump around, playfully shoving each other to get the crowd moving.

Eddie comes out last, greeted with more wild cheers, a lot of them more shrill than those given to Chris. Girls throw themselves toward the stage, offering their wombs to him like he’s Paul McCartney in the 1960s. You watch, your vision red around the edges, as he blows a kiss to Macy in the front row, and she pretends to catch it. You have to look away to keep from gagging.

—

“Thank you, Hawkins! We have been Corroded Coffin, goodnight!” The band line up across the stage, taking their bows. Next to where you stand with Robin and Steve across the bar, Macy and her gaggle of friends whoop and holler obscenities. It disappoints you, watching such a beautiful woman have her bar set so low.

“Oh my god,” Robin follows your stare. “No fucking way.”

“I know, she’s stunning, don’t remind me.” You rest your chin in your hand, slouching over the bar.

“Of course she is, that’s Macy Miller!”

You blink at her, not understanding why her last name matters.

“She’s the bassist of Statuesque Dolls, they’re the opening band for Chappell’s tour!” The gleaming smile on her face vanishes when she looks at you again. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s Eddie’s latest muse, or something.” you shake your head from the thoughts of Macy onstage. She’s probably irresistible, a symbol of feminism and sex and rock ‘n’ roll.

“No fuckin’ way.” Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “He’s blackmailing her. Or something. Right?”

You shake your head. “Change the subject, Rob. Please.”

“Okay, sure. Steve is a pornstar.”

You burst into laughter. “A popular one! Good for him, really.”

Robin crosses her arms. “Good for him, sure, but what about me?! He’s my roommate, Bee!”

“Come on, you’re paranoid. He probably doesn’t film while you’re home.” She purses her lips, but doesn’t respond. “Don’t be such a conservative.”

She gasps. “How dare you!”

“Hey, ladies!” The subject of your conversation enters your huddle, a beer sloshing in his hand. “How are my most favorite people in the whole wide world doin’?” Steve’s cheeks are bright pink, stretched by his massive smile. His eyes are half closed, like it’s still too bright in the dimly lit bar.

“Someone’s not concerned about opening tomorrow.” You tease, motioning to his frothy drink.

“Oh, Melvin gave me the day off.” He beams, and Robin scoffs. “Sorry, Bob, snooze ya lose.”

“Oh, sure, ‘til I call out and he tells you to cover.” She winks before leaning over the bar to you. “Shots?”

You snort a laugh and grab the tequila off the bar. At the same time you finish pouring the third shot, a fourth figure looms over you. “You all takin’ shots?” Eddie’s eyes shine with eagerness.

“Yeah, you want?” Steve offers, and Robin digs her elbow into his ribs. You grab a fourth glass and slice of lime without a word, feeling the skin inside your mouth break between your teeth.

“Are we toasting?” He looks from your friends to you, and his expression softens. You shrink under his gaze, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said a word to him before the set.

“Um, not particularly.” Robin attempts to cut the tension, but she’s met with no response beyond a confused Steve asking, “What about, to friendship?”

Robin pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Dingus, read the damn room.”

“What?” He giggles, still not getting it. “What did I say?”

“No, Rob. It’s cool, I like that.” You hold your own shot glass up, signaling your friends to do the same. “To friendship, current and otherwise.” You chance looking at Eddie, and his eyes are already locked on you. He doesn’t look away when you catch him, only tilts his glass towards you before licking the salt from the back of his hand and downing the liquor. He doesn’t flinch, calmly reaching for the lime to relieve his palette. You follow suit, the burning nothing you can’t handle. Being a bartender has its moments, but this isn’t one of the prouder ones.

—

“So,” Your mother starts, spraying the bar with disinfectant as you finally lock the door for the night. “What happened?”

“What?” You pretend you don’t know what she’s talking about, busying yourself with a mop across the room.

“What, what? You’ve been snippy all night. I want to make sure you’re alright.”

You shrug. “Nothing happened specifically. The boys just get on my nerves is all.”

“Boys? Or Eddie?” Your mom gives you her Mother Knows All look.

“Ugh, whatever.” You don’t answer the question.

“Bee, you can talk to me. I know you’re going through a lot, your brother being home and all. You haven’t seen Eddie in, what, two years?”

“Three.”

“Three years! See, you’re taking a lot on at once. You know you can lean on me, right?”

You set the mop back in its bucket and walk over to your mom, picking up a rag and the spray bottle before moving to the tables. “Yeah, I know. But I’m sure you’re also trying to cope with your son being back, I don’t wanna add any more stress on top of that.”

“You’re my baby. Your stress is my stress, always.”

Your walls crumble at her affirmation. “It’s just, who does he think he is? He has the audacity to show his face around here after what he did! And Chris just lets him! It’s like nothing happened, and it’s pissing me off. Making me feel fucking crazy!” You usually don’t swear around your mom, but it all pours out of you. “And he talks to me like we’re buddies, like he didn’t ruin my fucking life when he sent Chris to prison.” You rub your tired eyes, awaiting your mom’s wisdom.

“Have you talked to Chris? Gotten his side?”

You roll your eyes. “I tried. He told me very little. Eddie was no help either.”

Your mom tosses her rag aside and leans her elbow on the counter. “Boys are morons, baby bee. I’m sorry. I wish I could offer something more profound. You’re talking to a divorcee, here.”

You laugh despite your mood. “Are we all just doomed? Forced to deal with this inferior species for the rest of our lives?”

Your mother chuckles. “Probably!”

—

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj let me know if you’d like to be added!

[ironwoman18]

Ubers Eat

“Alright kiddos, tonight we are going to cook” said Snuffy with a huge grin on his face “as an Italian, I'm in the obligation to teach you how to make pasta the proper way” he smirked “the Italian way, of course”

Lorenzo was in awe hearing Snuffy like it was his favorite idol, Barou rolled his eyes while Aiku and Sendou were thinking “Oh a new way to impress girls!!”

And like he could read their minds Niko said “stop thinking about women you fools...” And Aryu nodded.

“Cooking is glam. I admire Martha Stewart, she cooks with glam” Niko rolled his eyes as little stars flew over Aryu's head.

Snuffy noticed Barou wasn't interested in the lesson so he looked at Lorenzo, who noticed this too and, connected by Bluetooth, he said “there should be a competition... Whoever loses has to wake naked from the kitchen to the dorms, wearing nothing but an apron” his golden teeth shone with malice.

“But who will score it?” Asked Niko.

“I will, of course” said Ego on the speakers “I love noodles after all” Snuffy smirked.

“Sounds fair and Ego, can you ask Miss Anri Tieri to do it as well”

Ego thought about it for a second and said “yes, I will. Enjoy, don't disappoint me, diamonds in the rough”

“And whoever doesn't cook will have a penalty,” said Snuffy, looking at Barou.

He rolled his eyes “fine shitty master... I will do it” Snuffy smiled and the class began.

Snuffy put all the ingredients on the table and all the players, even the Italian members of the team were there.

“They have an advantage, mister,” said Fukaku looking at the Italian players.

“Don’t worry. Neither of these kids have a single idea about cooking” he rolled his eyes “Essere un salame... They are clumsy and terrible in the kitchen, their country should remove their passport from their hands” the Italian kids blushed softly.

Snuffy began with the pasta. He gave instructions on what to do to make it. Barou was struggling a little but he managed to make it. Lorenzo was good but only because he followed all the instructions since he was like Snuffy's puppy.

Surprisingly Aiku, Aryu, Niko and Fukaku did it well but the biggest surprise was Sendou who's dough was smooth and perfect.

“Wow!!! Sendou!! That's amazing” said Aiku, proud of his star player “those Hollywood actresses will fall in love with you” this made him drool.

Then Snuffy said “alright kiddos, we will let the dough rest for about fifteen minutes, meanwhile we will start getting the ingredients ready” they nodded “we will make the carbonara and this sauce DOES NOT have cream. That’s a lie of the French…” said Snuffy with irritation.

They looked at the ingredients on the table. There were eggs, something like bacon, olive oil, salt, pepper and pecorino Romano .

“Pour the water in the pot and turn on the stove, we will add salt in the water WHEN the water is boiling and no, we don’t add oil in the water” he said looking at the Italian players, who were holding the bottle of oil, putting them down blushing.

“Now let’s cut the guanciale” all the players looked around for it “the thing that looks like bacon” the master held the bridge of his nose “mamma mia!! Cut a portion and it will be cut in small squares” they did it and Snuffy felt please with the result of it.

Barou was the best at this task since he’s so perfectionist, then Aryu because… glam… and third was Niko because he copied Barou with his new metavision.

“Perfect, let's crack the eggs and pour salt in the boiling water” they did it, again Barou opened the eggs perfectly and without a single piece of shell.

“Now let’s put the dough in this machine and you will follow me closely, ok?” They nodded.

Snuffy the pasta machine to Knead the dough until it is 1 centimeter thick. Then cut it in thin spaghetti pasta.

“Let it rest for a few minutes then we will cook them. Now let’s cook the guanciale without any oil, put the pan on the fire and throw it in the pan” they nodded and followed the instructions.

When the guanciale was done it was turn to remove them from the pan “now the mix the eggs with a fistful of pecorino and pepper” he showed them how to do it. Some added more pepper, others, like Fukaku, forgot to add the pepper.

“Now cook the pasta” they did this added the pasta in the water “this will last a few minutes since it’s fresh” when the pasta was done he instructed them to put it in the bowl of the eggs, pepper and pecorino “mix it and add some water from the pasta this will make it creamy and will cook the eggs” they follow the instructions and pour it in a nice plate “cut some parsley and add it with the guanciale”

Then it was turn for Ego and Anri.

“This looks… edible…” said Ego, actually surprised but his diamonds in the rough.

The first was Barou, it got a good grade but the pasta wasn’t smooth, then Aiku, the sauce wasn’t creamy, then Aryu which was almost perfect, later was Niko and Sendou’s turn and they did it perfect and lastly Fukaku who’s sauce was highly criticized. 

The other blue lock players were ok “what about the Italian players?” Asked Ego.

“They will be judged by me and their Italian ancestors…” said Snuffy, clearly disappointed, looking at his players.

“Alright… there’s a tie for first place between Sendou and Niko” they smiled “in third place is Aryu, fourth for Barou, fifth for Aiku and last for Fukaku” said Ego “thank you master Snuffy” he said with the hint of a smile on his lips.

“No, thank you… Jinpachi” he winked and the creator of Blue Lock left with Anri.

“I guess Fukaku, Barou and Aiku had to go back to their rooms wearing only this apron” said Lorenzo with a smirk.

“Forget it your fucking zombie. I’m fourth place”

“But you didn’t get in the top 3” said Lorenzo as multiple veins popped on his forehead and face “those are the rules”

Barou was so competitive that he did it just to shut Lorenzo up, he removed his clothes, put on the apron with pink hearts and ran to his room followed by Fukaku wearing a flowery apron and Aiku wearing an apron with red hearts AND flowers.

Ego in a mean move opened the cameras of the Italian block showing this to the world with a wicked smirk.

“Oh my gosh… this is why I pay for my internet!!🫦🫦”

“If that 🍑 comes from exercising like those dudes, then I will run to my local gym”

“I need more of this content”

“Is this a BL site?!”

Hiori, Yoichi, Yuki, Reo, Nagi, Karasu and Raichi smirked at the same time, because they will tease them for years to come. In fact Hiori screenshotted ALL the comments.

OOooOOooOO

I had so much fun with this one!! Hahaha, I hope you enjoyed it as well.

Now who should be next? Barcha or PXG? I still don’t have any idea what to do for them.

@blueballslock

[citruswriter]

Food For The Soul

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Warnings: Tcest (you have been warned!), Tcest x Character, The Bale AU, Fluffy Goodness, Polyamory.

Tcestween Prompt: Food

Pairings: Mikey x The Bale

If there was anything that Mikey enjoyed more than eating food it was making food, especially for his loved ones. It was a sort of love language for him. He adored making foods for people that held special places in his heart, keeping them well fed with good, home-cooked food that he made. Scratched the turtle instincts just right.

And that's exactly what he was doing right now. Waking up early and cooking food for his bale. Mikey didn't used to be such an early riser but as years got on he found himself enjoying the quiet of the mornings more and more, his only company being the sizzling of whatever food he was cooking and the soft lofi beats that gently played through his bluetooth speaker.

This morning he was making scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, fresh fruit salad, and fresh morning batches of tea and coffee. The spatula scraped against the pan as he made the large batch of scrambled eggs, throwing in different kinds of cheeses and spices. The bacon sizzled until it was perfect and crispy before he gently dished it up on the paper towel clad plate. Regular and chocolate chip pancakes were made and set on a platter. The sound of his cutting knife on the board as he made the fruit salad filled the air next as he tossed watermelon, strawberries, kiwi, banana, and blackberries together.

Everybody would be waking up soon, time to make beverages. Raph liked green tea with honey, Donnie would want his expensive coffee with french vanilla creamer and whipped cream, Leo would want his caramel latte with double espresso, Casey simply enjoyed cheap black coffee, and April would take a shot of espresso and a glass of orange juice.

Speaking of April... He could hear her pad in with Raph as he made his own oolong tea. "Morning, my loves." Mikey said cheerily and he was rewarded with a soft good morning from April and a kiss from Raph. Mikey handed them their drinks, Raph sipping his tea with an approving hum before he loaded his plate with pancakes and bacon.

Mikey giggled as April downed her espresso shot with a scrunch of her nose before chasing it down with a gulp of orange juice before snagging some scrambled eggs, bacon, and fruit. "Thanks so much, baby." She said sleepily, kissing his cheek.

Shuffling could be heard before Leo and Casey were seen, talking softly to each other as they got food and their drinks. "This looks so good." Casey said, digging into his food. "Smells just as good." Leo mumbled, popping some bacon and fruit in his mouth.

"Where's Donnie?" Mikey questioned and Leo looked up and blinked. "Asleep in his lab, I think. He was up pretty late." Leo said and Mikey sighed, making his way up to Donnie's lab to drag the purple banded terrapin down for breakfast.

"Donnie?" Mikey called out, walking into the lab until he found his mate. He could help but chuckle softly as he found his older brother hunched over and asleep on his lap table. Gentle fingers reached up to pry his battle shell off, tracing his sensitive shell and messaging it gently, causing him to stir.

"Morning, dearest." Donnie groaned out and Mikey bent to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Morning, babes. I made breakfast. Lets get some food and coffee in you." He said softly. Donnie groaned softly and stretched before standing up, allowing Mikey to drag him to the kitchen.

"He lives!" Leo said as Donnie sat at the table, earning a snap from Donnie before he nuzzled into his twin, earning him a kiss. Mikey piled up Donnie's plate before handing his food and coffee to him. "Here you go, baby." Mikey said softly before getting up to get his own food and drink.

As the bale sat around the table, waking up and murmuring softly to each other, Mikey couldn't help but feel his heart warm. Everybody ate and drank, scrapping their plates clean and slurping down the last of their drinks, thanking Mikey before loading their dishes in the dishwasher.

As they walked away with bellies full of good food, Mikey couldn't help but sigh lovingly. What a good morning it was today...

Mikey is such a little chef so I found it only fitting that I would center this prompt around Mikey. Ik it's kind of bad but I still think it's uber cute.

Taglist: @cherrytreatsart @yallshantfindme

[tekedynamic]

How GPS Trackers Can Improve Your Outdoor Adventures

Whether you’re hiking in the mountains, cycling through forests, or just venturing into the unknown, having a reliable GPS tracker by your side ensures that your adventure remains enjoyable, safe, and memorable. Read more…...

[catgirltitties]

Tagged by @cloevr !! Tysm for the tag !

rules: you just got a kind of shitty old car and it doesn’t have bluetooth. you can only buy/use 7 CDs and you can’t repeat an artist. what are you getting Omg i literally just got a 2003 car and got cds for it LOL here are the next few cds im gonna probably get other than my own mixtapes I made for myself . esp since i forgot to grab my old cds from my car before they scrapped it -_- . gna mix some of my faves with some good stuff to have in a car for specific occasions hehe 1) Danny Brown - XXX 2) Kero Kero Bonito - Bonito Generation 3) Amine - Good For You 4) Sleigh Bells - Treats 5) The Avalanches - Since I Left You 6) Daughters - You Wont Get What You Want 7) Quelle Chris - Being You Is Great! I Wish I Could Be You More Often Tagging @heavnbound @myopicmickey @sforzzz @bacon @theshadoutmapes @chloesevigny AND you .. reading this. everyone has to do this too. or else

[demiesworld]

sunday mornings - [husband!miguel x blackwife!reader]

synopsis: just a domesticated miguel's sunday routine with his gorgeous black wife.

contents: sfw, suggestive theme, brief sex part but it is not graphically written, just fluffy stuff

notes: some use of spanish is used in this. my spanish is not very good, so if there is any grammatical errors please let me know. i wrote this bc i saw a lot of miguel x black reader fics that have smut in them, and rarely did i see some domestic or fluff with miguel and a black reader. miguel is not spiderman in this, he does not have any mutated abilities or powers. miguel is in his early 30s and reader is in their late 20s.

The weekends are always an anticipated time for Miguel. During the weekdays he would be working diligently in the confines of a cold laboratory. He worked the typical 8 to 5 as a bioengineer, pulling in money to support him and his lovely wife. On Saturdays, Miguel would spend them freely doing whatever errands or activities he couldn't do over the weekday. However on Sundays, there was a routine that him and his wife set in stone for them.

It starts off with Miguel waking up to the aromatic sweet smell of pancakes and a California king-sized bed with an empty spot beside him. The curtains and blinds in their bedroom are closed, yet the tell-tell signs of sunlight is evident from the peeks of rays. His sleepy brown eyes look at the wall clock and reads the time as five past 8 in the morning. Which was normal for his wife to be cooking their breakfast at a time like this on Sunday.

The man lifts himself out of bed, and doesn't leave the bedroom till after he's fixed up the bedsheets and laid the pillows back into place in a neat order. As he crosses the threshold of the door he shuts off the ceiling fan with a flick of his fingers flipping the switch down. Miguel runs his thick long fingers through his dark brown bed head hair as he walked through the hallway. The walls were decorated with family pictures, their wedding ceremony, and paintings of abstract African art.

As he got closer to the kitchen, he could hear the faint sound of the R&B song "Weak" by SWV playing from the bluetooth speaker. Accompanied by that was the sizzling of bacon cooking on the stove and the smell of that lingering in the air. Miguel came upon the kitchen entryway and he stood there leaning against the frame just to observe you preparing breakfast.

You were standing at the flat ceramic-top stove, flipping pancakes on a pan while keeping a watchful eye on your bacon. Your husband eyes your attire: a cream satin robe that ended above your knees and a matching color bonnet on your head. Your face free of any makeup, and you were just in your natural state. You looked beautiful as the day he first met you.

Miguel leans off of the frame and makes his way over to you. While you were in the midst of cooking, you felt strong arms and a firm chest press against your back. Large hands wrapped around your stomach, intertwining their fingers in a way to prevent from you escaping. As if you would ever do that. His supple lips attached themselves to the junction of your neck and collarbone just as a content sigh emit from him. A gentle and heart-warming kiss is what left goosebumps on your brown skin. A genuine, happy smile followed.

"Hmm... buenos días mi corazón." He whispers to you, and rests his chin on your shoulder to watch you cook. "Qué tenemos para breakfast?"

You daintily flip over a pancake while responding to him, "You are having oatmeal with apples, cinnamon, and honey. I am going to have pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs."

Miguel pouts at the meal he was going to be eating, "Do I have to eat that mi corazón? It's so bland."

"Hey, the doctor said your cholesterol levels were high Miguel and that you need to cut back on sodium. You wanna have a heart attack or do you wanna live to see 60?"

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't argue with your factual rebuttal. "Okay, I get it." His lips kiss your cheek before he lets you go and takes a seat at the dining table. Your gentle voice calls from the kitchen, "I love you Miguel."

"Te quiero tambien, Y/N."

Once you were finished cooking breakfast for you and your husband you set out the plates. First you placed your plate of scrambled eggs, two pancakes, and three strips of bacon onto the tablemat. Then you served Miguel with his bowl of oatmeal coupled with four boiled eggs and his orange juice. You let out an amused chuckle when you saw the pout on his lips upon seeing his meal. Your lips kiss his temple before you go over to sit at your designated seat.

"It's only for a month, papi, don't worry too much."

Together you both ate breakfast and discussed over plans for your Sunday. You told Miguel that after church services you were to be a teacher's substitute for the children so you wouldn't make it home until a little after 12. Miguel said he was fine with that since he would be helping out one of your elderly neighbors with mowing his lawn today due to the guy's back being hurt. You also mentioned to him that you needed to do chores around the house. He reminded you that you were to have Sunday dinner with his parents tonight at their place.

"As long as you're not going to be drunk with your dad then we can do that." You say to him.

"I won't drink with my father, cariño." He promises.

After breakfast was over the two of you started to get dressed for church. You did your makeup in your shared bathroom, going for a soft glam look. You took off your bonnet and fixed up the Senegalese twists you had in your head. You laid down your baby hairs, massaged oil onto your scalp and conditioned your hair. When you were finished doing that you went on to get dressed. Out from your private closet you pulled out a long sleeve mustard yellow maxi dress and slid on sandals. Then you accessorized with gold bracelet, gold heart necklace and gold diamond tear-drop earrings.

You came out of your bedroom and walked into the foyer where Miguel was standing there waiting for you. He was wearing the dark brown two piece suit you had picked out from him the night before. A mustard yellow tie and handkerchief stood out. Your husband cleaned up nice.

His eyes met yours when he heard you walking down the hall and smiled lovingly at you. "Dios mío... Te ves hermosa en ese vestido mami." He gently grabbed a hold of your hand and spun you around just to get a glimpse of your butt. "I don't think I wanna go to church today now."

You giggle and swat him in the chest playfully. "Damn Miguel, you horny dog, we're not skipping out on church again for that. Maybe when we get home this afternoon..." You trailed off letting him know that you were insinuating it could happen.

After Miguel gave you another twirl then a slap on the ass you two set off for church. There the two of you sat in the middle section of the chapel. Some folks came up to you greeting you both, and conversated about what the preacher was going to say today. You both got many compliments on your matching outfits. Which to you wasn't a surprise as you both wore matching outfits on Sunday mornings with similar colors. You remember from last year how the two of you wore red, white and green colors in celebration of Christmas during a service.

The service held felt long despite it lasting an hour and a few minutes over time. You and Miguel did your donations to the church. You both separately put in $50 into the hat that went around the congregation. You sang the songs that the choir was singing and praised every time the preacher talked about the Lord. By the time it was time to leave you looked at Miguel and told him to not pick you up since you had a ride back home after the class with the Sunday school children. You gave him a kiss good-bye then went on about your day teaching.

Miguel went home and changed out from his church clothes to a loose grey tank top, khaki cargo shorts and sneakers. He went over to the neighbor's home and let them know that he was going to mow their lawn for them before doing it. The old man neighbor was thankful for Miguel, even offered him money, but your husband politely refused. To him kind acts of service shouldn't be paid for with money but with kindness in return.

At around 12 you were just arriving home from church and Miguel had just finished up with mowing the neighbor's grass. He greeted you at the door kissing your lips tenderly and his hands caressing your hips. You inwardly laughed as you weren't even a minute into being home when your husband started kissing you and feeling you up in the foyer.

"Papi, I haven't been home for five minutes!" You squealed when he carried you up off the ground and pressed your back against the wall.

Your husband smirks on your lips and replies, "You're the one who said we could do it after church."

He was right you did say that to him this morning. You threaded your manicured fingers through his hair, a soft moan slipping past your glossed lips and into his own.

"Hmm, Miguel, if you really want it we gotta go to the room." You say breathlessly in between the passionate kisses he was giving you.

Miguel carries you into the bedroom and lays you on the bed gracefully. Once you two have rid each other of one another's clothes and jewelry pieces you both engage in steamy coitus. Hands caressing bodies, lips sucking on flesh, and sweat sticking to skin. A song of low grunts, shrill pleased moans, and heavy rushed pants resonated in the bedroom. The loud pounding of skin sounded like a drum in the background and creaking of the bed frame. It all escalated into an unsteady rhythm then came to an abrupt halt once you both met your ending.

The two of you laid in the rumpled bedsheets just holding each other in the aftermath. Basking in one another's glow. You tilt your head up to look at your husband and then kiss the underside of his sharp jawbone.

"We can't stay in bed too long, papi. I still got chores to do and we have dinner with your family tonight."

Miguel let out a tired sigh, "Just five more minutes cariño."

You move to get out of the bed, "Uh-uh, Miguel we gotta get moving, come on now." You pull yourself out of the bed and turn to your naked husband still laying on the bed. You wave your hand, "Come on, get the bed sheets changed and let's take a shower."

"I love you."

You pause when he says those words, but your face softens when you feel butterflies in your stomach. The words, "I love you too." fall out of your mouth when you respond. After saying that you walk out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, Miguel could hear your voice shouting, "You better be getting out of that bed and changing them sheets!"

Miguel shakes his head followed by a roll of his eyes. Though he does as he is told. He changes the messed up bedsheets, putting the old one into the laundry room and then replacing it with clean fresh ones. As soon as he was done he met with you in the shower and you both washed together.

Yes this was Miguel's Sunday routine. Going to church with his gorgeous wife, helping out with the chores, and attending Sunday family dinners with her family or his family once a week. It was the one day of the 7-day week that Miguel looked forward to. And he wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.

notes: slowly trying to get out of my writer's block slump. current fixation is fucking miguel o'hara. god knew not to make that man real bc he will have everybody and their mama on his dick. anyways lmk what you think of this fluffy piece! (つ ͡ꈍ ͜ʖ̫ ͡ꈍ )

© 2023 demiesworld please do not repost on any other website without permission. do not plagiarize. any similarities in this fic is purely coincidental.

[brothrbear]

Monsters in the Park - 1

Behr leans her back against a lamp post. She sticks her tongue out, mind wandering as her skin absorbs the light. She'd texted Carter about her location while she could still focus, he'd brought her some tea and a waterproof pillow. The two would meet back up in the morning after she got finished absorbing nutrients. Her ankles rest in loosely packed dirt.

She hugs the pillow tightly, nuzzling into it a little. Her claws wrap around the carafe they had jury rigged into a thermos for her. The lid twists off and she starts to sip at four liters of tea. Two pots of soursop tea flow down her throat. A swirl of steam leaves her mouth as she sighs happily. “He knows me so well.”

With a warm belly and a soft pillow to hug, Behr pops her bluetooth speaker into her ear, letting it rest against her soft round lobe. Quiet music streams out of it as she fumbles with her pants pockets. A thick sketchbook falls out along with a few mechanical pencils. Without much to do but soak in the incandescent light and nutrient rich dirt, she starts to sketch her surroundings on the large paper pad.

She’d gotten better at idly drawing the panoramic views she was becoming more and more accustomed to. The entirety of her body used the surrounding light to see, it was still dizzying sometimes, forcing her to focus on a small patch of her vision to keep herself upright, yet, while sitting it felt even more natural than breathing to soak it all in. Her pencil scribbles across the page fluffing out every frond and leaf around her with as much accuracy as her clumsy paws could account for.

A little lost in thought she loses track of her immediate surroundings. Just as she’s about to put the finishing touches onto the piece a tall, tan man interrupts her. Wearing what looks like a bike cop’s uniform the man snaps his fingers in front of Behr’s face. The plant slowly comes out of her trance and looks up at him. “O-Oh! Excuse me officer.”

“You are excused… The park is closed ma’am, please find your way home.” The man speaks with authority but Behr can smell something off with him. She stares him up and down, getting a bit distracted by a source of blue light she hadn’t noticed before. He seems to sense her hesitation. “Ma’am, the park is unsafe and due to new city ordina-”

“New city ordinance?” Behr blurts out before being able to stop herself. “We’re pretty good at reading up on the parks… there were only a few things that sa-”

“Miss, if you do not leave in the next few minutes I will have to remove you myself.” The man takes a more confident pose, still stinking of something other than authority.

Behr very quickly stands up, stretching a little bit. “You’re really going to throw a plant out of the park?”

“Ma’am, if you have an issue, you may take it up with the city’s park district.” The man points towards the nearest exit, where Carter had come from a few hours earlier. She smiles at that thought, the smell of the officer getting stronger as she does. “But for now you need to leave.”

“and if we dont leave” Behr swallows, forcing her tone back to normal, pushing down on the influence of her other passengers. She then lets her focus wane just enough for her to get the entire officer into focus. The blue light comes more into focus as she does.

The man speaks, but Behr isn't paying attention. She approaches the man, there was something about him drawing her in. The man's expression breaks from annoyance into confusion and then fear as Behr stands only a few inches from him. She crouches down, pushing her nose up against the man’s.

“You're glowing.” She says plainly, taking a slow sniff.

He takes a step back, the massive plant following in lockstep. “Wh-What?!”

“you     are     glowing” Her voice becomes monotone as she tips her head to the side. “how intriguing you dont smell like bacon either”

“You're speaking nonsense! Leave before I make y-you.” He puts up a hand, pressing it against Behr's chest.

“and you like it when i think about my st-”

“S-Ssssstop! Don't you ssssay that!”

“what    my stardust” Behr smirks a bit as she says it, her thoughts flooding with the warmth of Carter. Memory fills the plant, the glow from the police officer intensifies.

The man hisses, the glow intensifying as it envelopes Behr. A long shining horn breaks through the disguise. The hat and skin fade away revealing dark features shrouded by moonlight and an eerie blue glow.

“my intriguing   youre a therian” Behr smiles and chuckles a bit. “May I ask what exactly you're doing? It's tickling.”

The strange creature recoils a little at the reaction. “I'm feeding…”

Behr snorts in surprise. “Feeding? Are you an herbivore? Not many Therians are lining up to eat me.”

“No, I'm an emotivore… I… feed on love.” She hisses again. “But… once I start I can't stop.”

“You know, this is kinda like what I imagine a Remora would feel like.” Behr muses a bit, their voice a bit high pitched.

“R-Remora?” The glow continues to reverberate through the pair as they stand just off of the path.

“These cute lil fish that swim with sharks and clean them. They have this consent based relationship where they could easily be eaten but aren't because they keep the sharks happy and hea...” Behr clears her throat again, rolling back onto her butt. “Scuse me, I can get a bit into explaining things.”

The equine creature sits down as well, looking at Behr. They sit there, not moving an inch as the glow continues to shift between them. “Um… I'm Kalla by the way.”

“Behr! It's very nice to meet you, Miss Kalla.” Behr sticks her tongue out, grinning widely. She stretches and yawns. “Mmmm… mind if we go sit by the street lamp?”

“Oh… um, why?” Kalla asks, watching the bear take a rather intense feeding with just a small yawn.

“I uh yaaaaawwwwnnnn need to get into the light or I might fall asleep.” She scoots herself back into her original spot, digging her feet into the ground. She closes her eyes and sighs. “Goodness, this is cozy.”

Kalla and Behr sit next to the light, the two talking idly as Kalla finally got one of the fullest meals she'd gotten since her transformation. Unluckily for the changeling, the light bulb above them pops and Behr eventually passes out, slumping over and snoring.

By the next morning Behr wakes up more refreshed than she'd been in a long time. She stretches, thinking about last night. With very little memory of the events she starts to head home, paging through her evening sketches.

“Carter is gonna love that dream, a creature that can eat emotion.” She chuckles a bit to herself. “I think he'd enjoy how much his latest story is affecting me.”

Her chuckling finally stops as she reaches the last filled page of her book. The panorama. She traces the back of her paw against the graphite. She stops with her paw on a pile of foliage. A figure, horned and hoover, peaking out of it.

“Hmm…” She thinks for a few moments. “I think I'll have to ask around T.H.E.M.S. about Kalla. Maybe someone knows something.”

Behr makes her way home, closing her thick sketch book with a thud. Her mind was running far smoother than before, like someone had finally rebooted her after the kerfuffle with her meds. It finally ticks through and lands on one single thought, finding the woman and thanking her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kalla is owned by the lovely @vy-canis-melodis

[prettywordsyouleft]

Power Up

Pairing: Do Kyungsoo x female reader

Genre: fluff/domestic au

Warnings: nothing, aside from being sickeningly adorable and making me wish for this

Word count: 964

Leaning against the living room threshold, Kyungsoo couldn’t help but grin to himself. It took all his effort to hold back the laughter bubbling under the surface, and he distracted himself by rubbing fondly at his chest.

His heart was squeezing with gratitude at the sight before him.

Kyungsoo didn’t even know where you had found the clothes you and your daughter were wearing. His idol days were behind him, and he had thought he had packed all the items he’d kept away long ago. Or, you had when you’d moved here to the farmhouse. Either way, he hadn’t seen these shirts with the number 12 and his name emblazoned over them in some time. The top on his five-year-old swamped her, barely letting her bare feet peek out from the hem, even with one side knotted up to take up some of the excess fabric. That wasn’t holding her back from shaking her booty from side to side as she screeched-sung into her hairbrush beside you.

It wasn’t his first time seeing you in his clothes. Heck, the first time you’d had sex was because he couldn’t hold back from undressing you in the hoodie he had given you fifteen minutes earlier to keep warm in. It was somewhat of a habit of yours now to pick up his clothes and put them on, yet the gut reaction was still the same, stirring the blood along his veins. If this moment wasn’t so damn adorable, he’d have interrupted it to take you off to any private place he could find and see if you had anything else underneath there.

Usually, there wasn’t a single other item under there, and he’d do best to forget about that tidbit right now before he got carried away.

“Mummy! Mummy!” his daughter screamed, still into the hairbrush as if it could project her voice further.

You flinched a little at her volume, though your smile remained in place. “What, sweetheart?”

“I want Power! I need more POWER!”

“You seem to have more than enough, don’t you think? Besides, Daddy sounds amazing in What U Do, and Mummy wants to keep listening to it.”

“But I want to hear Uncle Bacon turn the music up nah-nah-nah-nah!”

“Baekhyun,” you corrected mindlessly with a sigh. Turning your head to reach for the phone controlling the Bluetooth speakers, you noticed Kyungsoo standing there and brightened again. “Maybe you can get some power from Daddy?”

“Ugh! But he’s not here, Mama!”

“Isn’t he?” Kyungsoo finally spoke, and his little girl screeched, reminding him of the powerful set of lungs she inherited from him that she had used to belt her way into this world, and ever since. All but tripping over the shirt, she ran towards him and threw herself at his awaiting embrace, just as you swapped the song to her requested one.

It had been a long time since he got lost in Exo songs, but he energetically bounced through the dance with you singing at his side, the endless excited screams coming from his arms almost deafening him. Several more songs played whilst he danced with you both, and soon he had a five-year-old dancing on the couch whilst he held you close. It made him laugh when he noted how breathless he had gotten; exercise had never been a favourite thing of his, and he sure as hell hadn’t kept up with any idol fitness regime in years. Still keeping himself trim enough for the odd acting role he took on to break up the monotony of his semi-retirement, he couldn’t believe how fifteen minutes led to him sweating this much. Your skin was flushed just as much, your eyes showing the struggle of parenthood and having the energy to keep up with your daughter as you did daily. Yet you didn’t slow down, and nor did he, holding onto this moment as much as you both physically and mentally could.

Pockets of happiness like this weren’t hard to find, but he cherished every one he got, and soon he was kissing you without a care in the world, even with his daughter screeching like it was the funniest thing to see Mummy and Daddy kissing. She sure had been conditioned to open affection over the years – he had a lot to give.

Kissing you once more before really needing a breath, Kyungsoo laughed heartily before dropping onto the couch, pulling you down with him. He groaned when the final piece of his family jumped on you both, his arm blindly reaching out for her squirming body before covering her in kisses.

“Still looking elsewhere for power, my little squirt?”

Round eyes, the same shape as his with the colour of yours caught his before she shook her head dramatically from side to side. “You turned it up to max, Daddy!”

“Good. I think I gave all of my power to you, anyway.”

“All of it?” you murmured in his ear, running a hand down his torso enticingly. “That’s a shame. My mum will be here soon to pick her up for a sleepover tonight.”

He shifted his gaze from his daughter to yours, his lips curling up into another smile. “Oh, I think I can manage to refuel pretty soon.”

You laughed loudly, patting him on the belly before picking yourself up. “Come on baby girl, let’s get you ready for Grandma’s tonight. We’ve powered you up for her to deal with, huh?”

“Nan-nan has more power than both of you!” she remarked, ever the spoilt granddaughter that she was, and Kyungsoo’s smile grew lazy.

He’d just take a short moment to recoup his strength. There was no way he wouldn’t have the power to spend the night showing you just how happy this life made him.

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[EXO Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

[childside]

Ok ok ok I'm in the mood for angsty Tommy back story astksjqldjll (I'm sorry for grammar :' (

--

It's Wednesday morning, finally he and Buck get their day off together. He's halfway go to the kitchen where he could smells buck's cooking with softly music from the Bluetooth speaker. He watches Buck busy with frying pan, toaster, ane other kitchen appliances. He smiles until he's close enough to listen to the music and Buck's singing the chorus.

"Just the two of us, we can make it if we try, just the two of us~"

And Tommy can feel his heart cracked.

-

One day when Tommy was 10yo, he just got back from school, his abusive dad at work and his drunk mum sleep on the sofa with the radio on, not too loud but just normal volume where he can hear it from the kitchen.

He know best that if he wake up his mom and ask for lunch she would bee pissed and hit him and just shouting at him. So he tried to to find anything edible from the fridge or the shelf. Got some leftovers bread and a half empty peanut butter jar. He usually get used to eat anything from the fridge when his mom drunk like today, but sometimes he just want a warm meal, as simple as Mac n cheese, pancakes, bacon, omelette or proper sandwich. And today is the day where he feel gloomy enough to eat his bread and peanut butter, he wanted to cry but he hold it as much as he could.

Not until he find Ginger the cat enter the kitchen from the back door. Ginger used to be his family pet, his grandma give it for Christmas few years ago. He loved Ginger, but when his family started to crumbling apart, with his drunk mom and abusive dad, they abandoned Ginger too. No one care enough to feed it or just play with it. Except Tommy. But as he getting older, he need to let Ginger free. Ginger can at least have a chance of getting food from neighbors or trash can outside. Tommy know it's dangerous but it's better for Ginger. So he let it free. But somehow Ginger keep coming back. It doesn't ask for food or stay long. Just checking in the house and greet Tommy, usually in the kitchen or Ginger climb Tommy's bed and snuggle just for a few hours before it go back outside again.

So when Ginger find Tommy sit on the kitchen floor eating his "sandwich", Ginger get closer and Tommy hug it tightly. The radio play a song Just The Two Of Us, a romantic song about lovers, but Tommy doesn't understand about it yet, doesn't care about the whole lyric, but all he could hear is "just the two of us, we can make it if we try, just the two of us.." and his can't hold his tears any longer. He sobs quietly while hugging Ginger. He keep saying "Just the two of us Ginger. We can make it if we try" in his head. Ginger stay with him in the kitchen for few more hours.

Unfortunately, when his parents divorced and he needs to move with his mom, of course he needs to left Ginger. The day when they're ready to move, Ginger show up and he hold Ginger tightly. He cried. No more "the two of us". He would fight the world alone from now. And Ginger would go to adventure alone without place to coming back. Tommy cried so hard and his mom have to force him to get in the car. He left Ginger. He feels guilty. He left Ginger. But over the year he learned that life must go on.

----

"Just the two of us, we can make-" Evan mid singing stop when he turn around to the kitchen aisle to get spoon and see Tommy, standing still, while tears streaming down his eyes. Tommy cover his face and crying uncontrollably, for the first time in forever. Evan turn off the stove and hold Tommy quickly. Tommy's board shoulders shaking as he melt down on the kitchen floors, and he feels like he's back to his old kitchen, eating leftovers bread and scrapped the almost empty peanut butter jar, with Ginger on his lap.

Tommy still crying but he's aware that Evan's here, together with him on kitchen floor, holding him tightly. The kitchen smells delicious, he can smells bacon and eggs, he can smells Evan's coffee and his own hot chamomile tea. He's with Evan. He's not alone. He has the love of his life to get through the day forever, hopefully. He realizes that his life is so much better than he was long time ago.

Evan's take care of him calmly until he's stop crying. Instead of asking or panicking, he ask,

"what do you need Tommy? What can I help?"

Tommy shake his head and get up to open the fridge. Evan follow him. He looking at the fridge and take a jar of peanut butter. It's still almost full. He remembers they bought it last week while grocery shopping.

"Do you want peanut butter toast for breakfast?"

Tommy just look at Evan's blue eyes and hug him tightly, while holding peanut butter jar in his right palm. "No, I would love to eat your cooking. Thank you Evan. Thank you. I love you."

Evan kind of confused but he hold Tommy back, understand that Tommy will talk about this later.

"I love you too."

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus & Magnus,

A few weeks ago Gus's teacher reached out to say that he wasn't behaving like himself lately. He wasn't getting in trouble, but he was doing the opposite of what was being asked of him. More than one of his teachers noticed the change.

When Mom told me, I felt a weight slam against my chest -- not because I was disappointed in him, but because I was disappointed in myself. In my parenting behavior. I suddenly remembered all the times in the past few months he had asked for my attention and I told him I couldn't give it to him in that moment. I've been so stressed at work that I've been coming home short-tempered and annoyed by the smallest things. I've been so angry and Gus has taken the brunt of it. He didn't deserve that. That's not the dad I ever thought I would be.

Mom and I talked and agreed we should each make a point to spend one-on-one time with each of you at least once a month so that we're giving you the attention you need from us, and so that we get to enjoy each of you for who you are in this moment. We're both so proud of you both.

I asked Gus what he would want to do if we could do anything, just the two of us. He said he wanted to go camping and fishing. He had such a good time fishing at Mount Eagle over Spring Break. So I found a place in the middle of nowhere with a small fishing pond and places to hike. We borrowed some fishing gear from Dr. Strong -- I haven't been fishing in 30ish years -- and hit the road after Gus's 11.30am soccer game. We stopped at the Walmart in Morrilton and he picked out cheeseburgers, Ruffles (plain, ugh), Fruit Roll-Ups, Reese's filled pretzel bites, and bacon & eggs for breakfast.

The only electronic in our shed/cabin was a radio, which was a foreign concept to Gus. He had a hard time understanding that the music coming from the speakers wasn't from my phone via Bluetooth. We also had no cell service, which was nice. We played catch, checkers, read books, threw a few rocks into the pond, took a walk through the woods, and I answered all of his questions about the "Heaven or Hell?" decor plastered throughout the cabin. We both thoroughly enjoyed the time. Fishing in the morning.

Dad.

Witts Springs, Arkansas. 4.26.2025 - 6.46pm.