#who let a kindergartener on line

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“This is my daddy, his name is Simon.” Your daughter stood proud, beaming up at her father as she introduced him to her kindergarten class. “He is a soldier for the SAS.”

Simon watched as nearly a dozen small eyes watched him intently. Usually, in circumstances like this Simon would be nervous, but the tight comforting grip of his little girls hand in his, had his confidence soaring.

“Well class, does anyone have any questions for Mr. Riley?” Your daughter’s teacher asked, giving Simon a knowing smile.

Simon’s eyes widened as every single hand in that classroom rose, each hand eagerly waving, waiting to be picked on.

He answered what felt like a million questions in ten minutes. The questions ranged from, how long has he been in service, what does his job entail, has he killed anyone, is he friends with his other soliders- you name it. He actually found himself enjoying answering the questions, and was genuinely surprised at the maturity of some of the children.

Simon rarely liked being the center of attention, but he felt a surge of pride bubbling in his chest as he looked over at her daughter who was looking back at him like he was the coolest person on the planet.

~

Later on, a group of kids surrounded your daughter as Simon stood outside the classroom chatting away with some of the parents. He let his eyes wander, watching as his daughter chatted excitedly to her fellow classmates.

“I’m so jealous your dad seems so cool!” One of the kids told your daughter, and the rest of the children nodded in agreement. “I wish he was my dad.”

“I know.” Your daughter said, a proud smile lining her lips. “My daddy is the best there is.”

Little did she know, Simon was standing right around the corner listening to her every word, a soft smile dancing on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: sorry this is trash, lol. Had this idea after a dream I had, and had to write it😂🥺

[spencerreidenjoyer]

lovebird | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's little girl sets you and her dad up.

wc: 3.3k, rating: teen

tags/warnings: 2+1, kindergarten teacher!reader, single girldad!spencer, fluff, meet-cute, implied sex, use of "Y/N" because this fic would've been impossible to write without it oops

a/n: not sure what possessed me to write this, but i finished writing this in about 2 days lmao. girldad!spencer loml. thank you to my lovely friends over on twitter who fuelled my insanity. for this fic i have season 10 spencer in mind/later seasons spencer who's just full on daddy at that point <3 (also crossposted on ao3!)

Sunday

You’re at the grocery store in a ratty t-shirt and sweats, picking out fucking cereal when you hear the pitter-patter of footsteps running towards you, and a sweet, high-pitched voice calling your name. 

It’s one of your students, Ellie Reid, holding a box of cereal that’s half her height, and she comes up to you in the aisle. 

“Ellie? What are you doing here?” You ask sweetly, pushing your hair out of your face before you squat down to meet Ellie’s height. 

“My daddy wanted to get groceries. He said we would go together. But he had to pick up the phone, and I wanted to help look for the things Daddy needs.”

Her dad, Dr. Spencer Reid, is an FBI agent and a single dad to Ellie. He’s one of the best parents you’ve had this year – the fancy kindergarten you teach at lends itself to spoiled brats and uptight parents, but Dr. Reid and Ellie are a welcome reprieve in a usually stuffy environment. You’re pleased to see her here, on a weekend, but less pleased with the fact that she’s alone. 

“Oh, wow! You’re so helpful, Ellie,” you say, holding her arm gently. “I’m sure your dad is really thankful. But you shouldn’t have walked off alone. I’m glad you found me.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s not safe for you to walk around alone in the grocery store, Ellie,” you smile. “Let’s go find your dad.”

Ellie nods, her cheeks ruddy and when you hold out your hand for her to hold, Ellie’s little hand wraps around two of your fingers. “Did you come to the grocery store alone? It’s not safe.”

“I did come alone. But I’m an adult, so it’s okay. You’re little, Ellie, so you should only walk around with your dad.” You lead Ellie down aisle after aisle, walking past canned food and bags of chips and walls lined with bottles of drinks. 

“But you shouldn’t walk around alone if it’s dangerous. When we find my daddy maybe he can protect you too!” Ellie says confidently. 

When did this grocery store feel so big? You can’t find Dr. Reid anywhere, and you feel a rising panic in your chest. You have half a mind to pull up the school’s contact information in your phone, but you hear Dr. Reid’s voice calling his daughter’s name, and both you and Ellie turn around.

“Daddy!” Ellie shrieks, almost dropping the box of cereal in her arms as she dashes toward her father. She almost trips as she closes the distance, thankfully landing in her father’s arms before she does fall. 

Dr. Reid scoops her up, holding her tightly. “You had me worried, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ellie mumbles against her father’s shoulder. “But I found Miss Y/N and she helped me find you!”

“I told her not to run off alone in the future,” you say. “Right, Ellie?” 

The sweet girl nods. She giggles into Dr. Reid’s shoulder, and his hand comes up to pat her back, a soothing gesture.

“I’m glad it was you she bumped into,” Dr. Reid says, sighing with relief. “I wouldn’t know I would do with myself if–”

“It’s okay, Dr. Reid,” you assure him. “It’s not a problem at all. You’re– You’re doing a great job with her.”

“Thank you for saying that. I– I’ll see you at the parent-teacher meeting next Friday, right?”

“Yeah, next Friday.” You smile at him. “Have a good day, Dr. Reid. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye!” Ellie, sweet girl, waves excitedly, her gummy smile overtaking her face. Dr. Reid walks toward the checkout, holding Ellie with one hand and pushing his shopping cart with the other. 

You feel how warm your cheeks are when Dr. Reid and Ellie are finally out of sight, your hand clammy around the handle of your shopping basket. You slap your cheek lightly, willing yourself to pull yourself together.

The way your heart flutters whenever you see Dr. Reid is a cause for concern, and you wonder if you should see a doctor about it. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is a marvel. He’s admirable, juggling his job at the FBI with raising a little girl all on his own, and he’s both a great profiler and a great dad. He’s incredibly sweet with Ellie and incredibly kind to you, which you unfortunately don’t get a lot, especially with the kinds of parents you deal with. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome: his hair is slightly long, wavy and messy in a way that frames his face just right, not to mention the stubble that makes him look that much hotter.

Your little crush on Dr. Reid is certainly inappropriate, but over the parent-teacher meetings and interacting with him when he drops off and picks up his daughter from school, you can’t help yourself from falling for him. 

Tuesday

Ellie Reid is a smart girl, that you know, but you're blindsided by her genius one day at recess. You’re monitoring all the kids at the playground when Ellie comes up to you. She has a contorted look on her face but she says, “Miss Y/N, I fell.”

“You did? Are you feeling okay?” You ask, squatting down to match her height. You look at her knees – not a speck of dirt nor a red spot from falling down.

“My knee hurts. Can you call my daddy?”

“Does it hurt badly? I’ll take you to see the nurse if it does,” you say, not entirely understanding the situation. You’ve never met a four-year-old who wouldn’t be in tears over tripping and falling, even if the injury wasn’t severe. 

The look on Ellie’s face makes you think that she’s trying to match your expectations of what she should be feeling. “It doesn't hurt bad. I just want my daddy to come pick me up. Can you call him?”

You try not to furrow your brow at the strange request. You’re usually trusted to handle any little accidents and mishaps with the children, but at Ellie’s insistence of calling her father, you feel like you should. 

(It’s certainly not spurred on by seeing him at the grocery store last weekend.)

“Alright, Ellie. I’ll call your dad and see what he says, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Y/N,” Ellie says, smiling at you. You get her to sit down on the bench next to you and your co-teacher to oversee the kids before fish your phone out from your pocket to dial Dr. Reid’s number. As you wait for the call to go through, Ellie looks at you with wide, expectant eyes. You smile at her.

On the third ring, Dr. Reid picks up. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Miss Y/N from Ellie’s school. I’m calling to inform you that Ellie fell on the playground during recess.”

“Oh, my. Is she alright?” You hear Dr. Reid’s voice grow concerned. Ellie looks up at you, and you look the little girl up and down one more time just to be sure.

“Yes, she is. I checked and she doesn’t have any scrapes or bruises. She says her knee hurts, but that she’s also fine. Usually, we don’t call parents over small mishaps like this, but Ellie insisted that I call you.”

“I see,” Dr. Reid hums, his tone indecipherable. “Can I talk to her?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Reid,” you say. You hold the phone out to Ellie as you put the call on speakerphone and tell her, “Your dad wants to speak to you, Ellie.”

Ellie is polite, but clearly excited as she yells, “Hi, Daddy!” 

“Woah! Hi, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, his serious tone while he was speaking to you gone, talking to his daughter with a delightful whimsy. “Miss Y/N told me you fell on the playground today. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Ellie answers, but she looks up quickly at you. “I mean, yes. Just a little. It doesn’t hurt too bad anymore.”

You hide your smile, and you think you can hear the smile in Dr. Reid’s voice as he says, “Okay, sweet girl, that’s good.”

“Can you come and pick me up right now, Daddy?” Ellie asks, a little whiny. It’s adorable, though. 

“Well, it’s only ten in the morning, honey,” Dr. Reid bargains. “And I know you have art class later, right? Don’t you want to stay around for that?”

“I do!” Ellie says eagerly. “Oh, I love art class!”

“I know you do, honey,” Dr. Reid assures. “So, do you feel okay enough to stick around in class until Daddy comes to pick you up at the end of the day?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ellie nods, even though Dr. Reid can’t see her. “But you have to come pick me up!”

“I always do, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, making Ellie laugh along too. “Okay, honey. Go on and play with your friends. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay! Bye, Daddy! I love you!”

“Bye! I love you too, Ellie!” Dr. Reid matches Ellie’s excitable energy, and Ellie giggles before she runs off to play again. His voice returns to a calm but engaged sort of energy. “Well, that was something.”

“She seems fine,” you say, switching the speakerphone off as you hold your phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of your work day, Dr. Reid.”

“Oh, please, it’s not a bother at all,” Dr. Reid laughs gently. “I love talking to Ellie. She might miss me or something, if she had to fake a fall so you would call me.”

“Perhaps,” you say, slightly surprised that Dr. Reid would be so quick to call out his daughter’s bluff. Some of the other parents would rip your throat out if you even insinuated their child was in the wrong. “I’ll still keep an eye out for her.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid insists. “Besides, it’s always a pleasure getting a call from you.”

You don’t remember if you thank him before he hangs up, because all you can think about is Dr. Reid saying he enjoys talking to you.

After putting your phone away, you press your hands to your warm cheeks in an effort to calm yourself and your beating heart down. 

Dr. Reid is one of the last parents to come by during pickup. It’s a somewhat regular occurrence, with Dr. Reid’s busy and hectic job. You are never bothered by spending extra time with Ellie, and you know Dr. Reid always tries his best to pick Ellie up as soon as he can. He usually makes regular pickup so you never get to exchange more than a few words with him, but days like today aren’t necessarily rare either. But considering your interaction on Sunday, you’re secretly pleased with how it’s worked out. 

Only you and Ellie are left in the classroom, you having told your co-teacher to clock out first. You’re pleasantly surprised when there’s a knock on the door frame, Dr. Reid standing there in a cardigan and a button-up shirt with his dress pants. “Ellie!”

His hair is somehow more fluffy and messy than you’d seen him at the grocery store, but it just makes him look even more soft and domestic. You try not to look at Dr. Reid with hearts in your eyes as Ellie shrieks and runs towards him, Dr. Reid picking her up easily and swinging her around before he holds her tight. “Hi, sweet girl.”

“Daddy!” Ellie giggles. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Dr. Reid coos, pressing a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head. Your insides melt, gooey at the tooth-rottingly sweet display in front of you. “Were you a good girl for Miss Y/N today?”

“Uh-huh!” Ellie nods, her gummy smile absolutely adorable. 

“She was a pleasure,” you add. “Hello, Dr. Reid.”

“Hello again.” Dr. Reid smiles. “It’s nice to see you. Are you doing well?”

“Yes, I am. Other than Ellie’s little incident, today was thankfully uneventful. Thank you for asking.”

Dr. Reid’s face scrunches up in an extremely endearing way, like it’s obvious that he’d want to know about… you. “Of course. I like to know you’re doing well. It’s great to hear.”

You feel like you don’t know what to say to that, perhaps a little too caught up in your little crush on him to come up with a coherent response. You laugh shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Dr. Reid has set Ellie down, and she wanders around the classroom, fidgeting with the pencils on the tables, but doesn’t stray too far from her dad. “Ellie seems to be fine from earlier, but you might want to check in with her again.”

“I will,” Dr. Reid says, nodding. “Oh! I almost forgot–”

You look on as Dr. Reid fumbles in his satchel, pulling a crumpled paper bag out. The paper bag looks bulky, oil stains seeped through on the sides and on the bottom. “Oh, it looks bad. It’s good, I promise– It’s a chocolate muffin from this really good bakery near my office. I just thought I’d get you one. Since you’re so helpful with Ellie. Especially today.”

Dr. Reid holds it out for you, and you scramble to step forward and take it. “Thank you, Dr. Reid, you- You didn’t have to. It’s my job to look after Ellie, after all. Not that it’s a burden, or just a job, I mean– Ellie’s great. She’s one of our brightest, but don’t tell any of the other parents that.”

Dr. Reid smiles so bright you feel like you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I won’t, if I bump into any of them at the parent-teacher meeting.”

You bite your lip, smiling, shy at the attention Dr. Reid gives you. You think he’s flirting(?) with you, but you try to remain professional. You clear your throat. “Thank you, Dr. Reid.” 

“Thank you again, Miss Y/N. I mean it.” Dr. Reid asserts, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Tonight is pizza night, so Ellie and I should be making our way home right about now.”

“Pizza!” Ellie yells, giddy, causing both you and Dr. Reid to laugh. She zooms past you to stand next to her dad. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. I’ll see you proper on Friday,” you say, nodding your head slightly. “And I’ll see you, Ellie, tomorrow, yeah?”

“Bye, Miss Y/N!” Ellie waves frantically. Dr. Reid joins her in her waving, equally silly. 

“I look forward to seeing you then, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Bye.”

“Bye!” you reply, trying not to sound too eager, and then Dr. Reid ducks out of the classroom with Ellie in hand. You feel like you’re swooning so hard you might faint.

Friday

Parent-teacher meetings go smoothly, thankfully. There are parents who only bother to hear the praise you give their children, so ignorant to the criticisms of their children that you try not to make too obvious. After seeing nineteen sets of parents, Dr. Spencer Reid is your last of the day. You don’t want to say you’ve been waiting for this all day, but checking off the nineteen sets of parents before this has only made you more and more excited. 

Dr. Reid finally enters the classroom, two minutes early for his slot, but he’s alone. 

“Where’s Ellie? She’s totally allowed to sit in for these meetings too.”

“She’s at my boss’ place for a playdate with his son,” Dr. Reid says. “Actually, that sounds pretty weird, doesn’t it? My daughter, having a playdate with my boss’ son?”

“Not at all. They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’m glad your colleagues are so helpful with Ellie.”

“They really are,” Dr. Reid asserts, smiling. “Hotch– My boss, I mean– offered, knowing I had this meeting.”

“That’s really nice of him,” you nod. “So, about Ellie…”

“Please tell me you only have good things to say,” Dr. Reid jokes, and you try very hard not to swoon. 

“Essentially, yes,” you nod. “Ellie is such a bright girl, and she’s so sweet. She’s always helpful with her classmates and polite to everyone and the teachers too. Again, don’t tell this to the other parents, but Ellie’s set high standards for the rest of the class.”

“You’re telling me an awful lot that I shouldn’t be telling the other parents,” Dr. Reid grins. “You sure you aren’t playing favourites?”

“You certainly are my favourite,” you say before you can catch yourself, and Dr. Reid looks at you with wide eyes. You imagine you look equally shocked. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, I didn't mean to say that.”

Dr. Reid cocks his head, a little smile toying on his lips. “Miss Y/N, did I ever tell you what I do for the FBI?”

You have no idea how this relates to how unprofessional and inappropriate you are being. You shake your head anyway, too afraid to say anything anymore before you say something even more embarrassing. 

“I’m a profiler, Miss Y/N. I use psychology and study behaviour to catch serial killers,” Dr. Reid explains, using his hands to articulate his point. Your eyes dart down to the motion; but your gaze quickly flits back up to his face. “In general, I’m good at reading people.”

“Is that so?” You gulp. Is he able to read you?

“I don’t mean to profile you, Miss Y/N, I mean it,” Dr. Reid sounds a little apologetic. “But I can’t help but notice the way you lean toward me when we’re speaking, the way you fidget with your hands a little, the way you can almost meet my eyes, but you still seem a little bashful about it. I either intimidate you, or…”

“Or..?” 

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but would you like to get dinner with me?”

“What?” You ask, disbelieving. “Dinner?”

“You- You’re interested in me too, aren’t you?”

“Too?” You gape, sounding like a parrot as you repeat his words, simply unable to wrap your head around the fact that Ellie Reid’s young, hot, genius father just asked you on a date. 

“I’m usually not too doubtful of my profiling skills, but beautiful women like you make me second-guess if I’m reading this right.” Dr. Reid laughs, avoiding looking at you. 

“Dr. Reid, I would love to get dinner with you,” You say, trying to sound confident. 

Dr. Reid beams as he meets your eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

“Cheesy that you’re calling me beautiful,” you laugh bashfully, waving him off. 

“I mean it!” Dr. Reid insists. “And, um– Would you want to do dinner after this? If you don’t have any other meetings, of course. Or any other plans– you’d probably have plans on a Friday night, right? Way to be presumptuous–”

“Dr. Reid! I don’t have plans tonight. A dinner date sounds great,” you laugh.

“Great! Great, good. I’m glad.” Dr. Reid says, looking a little giddy that you’d taken him up on it. “Also, um- I love when people call me Dr. Reid, but please just call me Spencer. Do you think people would get the wrong idea if you called me Dr. the whole time?” 

You cackle, Spencer looking thoroughly pleased at making you laugh. 

“Okay, Spencer,” you try his first name, and it rolls off your tongue with ease. “Let me pack up and then we can go get dinner.”

“I like when you say my name,” Spencer smiles. “What’re you feeling for dinner?”

If you and Spencer kiss at the end of your dinner date in front of your apartment door, that’s between you and him. 

You pulling Spencer into your apartment with your hands fisted in his hair should also stay between you and him. 

It doesn’t entirely stay between you and him, though, as Spencer calls his boss to turn Ellie’s playdate into a sleepover before he rolls over to kiss you and take you all over again. 

[smileysuh]

comfort cuisine

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, breast worship/massaging, big dick Johnny, fingering, pussy stretching prep, 'it's finger licking good,' praise, dirty talk, masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, creampie, soft sex, longing, fluff, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.8k

🍭 aus. aged up/widower dad!John, best friends to lovers, Chef!John, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm so happy that people loved Line Chef Mark in my fic Real Talk, I received so many messages about giving Head Chef John his own love story, and this is what I came up with in the past four months :) it's a little different from what I normally do, but I wanted to continue with that 'slice of life' theme and venture into a plot line I've never tried before with widower/single dad John :)

Prologue

“I’m so sorry about this,” Johnny’s voice distracts you from the breakfast you’re making, and you turn around from the bacon to look at your friend. “I really wish I didn’t have to keep calling you and asking for favours like this-”

“Johnny,” you shut his rambling up with a pointed expression, “stop, it’s okay.”

“It’s not-”

“John,” you repeat, “seriously, we’re good. Given… the circumstances, I honestly don’t mind.”

The circumstances… neither of you can bring yourselves to say it. You know that if you say it… if you say ‘I don’t mind helping out since the death of your wife’ Johnny will just about break down, and he doesn’t have time to do that, not when he’s got to be at work for seven am, prepping the kitchen and getting ready for the day.

Even by calling this situation a ‘circumstance,’ you can see a half glazed expression overtake Johnny’s face. He’s frozen for a moment, and you take the time to study him.

You think it’s safe to say neither of you expected any of this to happen. 

You’d met him in culinary school- he’d been a young guy, a new dad who’d had a daughter at nineteen, with dreams of opening his own sandwich food truck, ‘like Subway, but gourmet,’ he’d always explained. 

Now, he’s a twenty four year old wreck, doing his best to climb the ladder in the food service industry, mourning the loss of his late wife, struggling to take care of his daughter, his dreams of a food truck long since forgotten in favour of chasing a head chef status to earn him enough of a salary to pay for everything in a one income household-

“Seriously,” your words snap the single dad back from his zone out, “we’re good. I’m making breakfast for Soonbok, I’ve got her lunch packed, I’ll take her to kindergarten, pick her up after- you just have to remember I have a night shift, gotta be at my own restaurant by five at the latest.”

“Five, yeah,” Johnny nods, swallowing thickly and toying with his daughters small pink backpack. “One day, I’ll be higher up on the food chain, and I’ll have better hours- I promise this isn’t a forever thing.”

“It’s an ‘as long as it needs to happen’ thing, okay? Don’t sweat it,” you assure him. “Here,” you take some of the crispy bacon out of the pan, putting it onto a scrambled egg bagel you’d prepared, “you need breakfast too.”

Johnny just about melts looking at the food. “You’re so good to me.”

You offer him a smile. “That’s what friends are for.”

One

Johnny swears his age is catching up to him. It’s not even four oclock and he’s feeling tired, letting out a groan as he says goodbye to the nightshift guys and heads to change out of his head chef attire in the staff bathroom. He’d turned thirty this year, and as he looks at his face in the mirror, he thinks he’s starting to see it.

On his way out of the back door, Johnny bumps into one of his line cooks. Mark Lee is pressed to the wall where people usually lean to smoke, his girlfriend closing him in with her hands on either side of his head. Back when she was expo, everyone used to call her Sunshine, but in her dealings with Mark Lee, Johnny’s come to realize that he’s the angel, not her. 

“Aren’t you two on the clock?” Johnny jokes as he walks past.

Sunshine pulls away from Mark, offering the head chef a grin. “We’re on a vape break.”

“Sure you are,” Johnny laughs, shaking his head.  “See you two back in there, better only be five more minutes.”

“Aren’t you done for the day?” Mark asks, confusion written on his face, along with lipstick marks that he’s hurrying to wipe off.

“Grabbing happy hour with a friend, but be careful Mark Lee, I’m always watching. Just because I’m sitting at the bar doesn’t mean I’m not judging you.”

Johnny can hear Mark mutter something under his breath, and Sunshine is quick to try to calm him down, but as Johnny turns the corner to head to the front entrance of the restaurant, he hears the back door open and close, signaling the end of the little ‘vape break.’

When Johnny joins you at the bar, you’re chatting with Jeno, and the sight makes an unexplainable emotion tingle up his spine. Out of all the front of house staff here, Jeno might just be the biggest manwhore, and he’s had a thing for cougars for a while, although there’s only a handful of years difference between the two of you-

“What are you guys talking about?” John asks, taking a seat on the dark green leather hightop stools surrounding the bar.

“Which virgin drinks are the best,” you respond casually. “I was going to get an iced tea, but Jeno convinced me to try one of your new virgin lemon ginger fizzes.”

“That’s called upselling, honey, you should know that, seeing as you’re in the industry,” Johnny grins.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who invited me here, so I figured you’d be paying.” You take a sip of your straw, looking at Johnny with a smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Are we getting food?” Johnny asks. “I might as well take care of that for you too.”

“I’ve got time,” you respond casually. “Don’t work for an hour, lets get our ‘nosh’ on.”

Johnny can only laugh at your antics, turning to Jeno, who’s watching with an amused grin. Everyone here knows you and Johnny are close, you come here often enough to see him, the two of you catching each other for a half an hour here or there between his day shifts and your night commitments. 

Johnny orders three appetizers off the happy hour menu, two things he knows you like, and one that’s more up his alley. “Make sure Yuta isn’t back there slacking off,” Johnny warns Jeno, knowing that two of the items will be coming from the ‘bottom end’ of the expo line, which is where Yuta runs the show after Johnny’s off.

“I’m sure he’ll pull out all the stops for our MVP,” Jeno grins, typing the order into an ipad. “Do you want a beer? We’ve got new rotators.”

“Don’t bother trying to upsell me,” Johnny scoffs. “House Lager, and don’t fuck around with the foam.”

“You run a tight ship here, captain,” you tease, bumping Johnny’s elbow.

“Speaking of-”

“Don’t try to recruit me to work here again,” you’re quick to warn.

“Damn it,” Johnny shakes his head, pretending to be quite upset about your rejection. He does feel it- he does think you’d be a great member of the team, and he’d love to offer you a dual head chef position, but it’s not in his power to do so, and that fact haunts him every day. Working for a company limits what he’s able to do, and sometimes, even at age thirty, Johnny still thinks about his dream to open a food truck, with you by his side. “No, in all seriousness, I wanted to talk to you about Soonie’s birthday.”

“Right, she’s turning eleven soon, that’s quite the milestone,” you grin, playing with your straw.

“I asked Doyoung if I could open early for her birthday, it’s a Sunday, I was thinking some of her friends and their parents could come in for a brunch an hour before we’re open for the public.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“Here’s the catch, Soonie was raised on your breakfast food. As much as I try to make things for her, and I hate to admit this, by the way, she always says your cooking is better. So I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come in that day and help me out with all of this. With your skills, I wouldn’t need Hyuck and Mark, it could be just us, and I’m sure we could make a birthday breakfast Soonbok would never forget. It would be like old times, like back when we were in culinary school.”

He loves the way you’re smiling at him, giving him space to rant. 

When he’s done, you cock your head to the side, only wasting one beat before you say, “I’ll do it.”

“Really? I don’t have to bribe you with money or anything?”

“Jeeze, have I ever asked you for money, John?” You smack at his arm, clearly slightly offended. “I’m doing this for Soonie… and maybe a little for you too.”

“Don’t go soft on me, killer,” Johnny teases. “Everyone around here’s too soft these days.”

“Says the softest dad I know,” you roll your eyes. 

“Shh,” he warns, “don’t say that loud enough for Jeno to hear.”

“As if everyone doesn’t already know.”

The two of you continue to chat and joke, a short while later, the head manager, Doyoung, shows up carrying food. It’s funny for Johnny to see Doyoung balancing two items on one arm, the third in the palm of his hand, but he supposes Doyoung started somewhere too, the same way John had. 

“VIP happy hour appetizers,” Doyoung sighs, setting the food down. 

“As opposed to regular happy hour appetizers?” you grin, immediately reaching for a fry.

“These are special,” Doyoung insists, “pretty sure Yuta spit in them.”

Doyoung is a pretty regal man, he’s not one to joke around- but for some reason, when Doyoung is in your vicinity, he loosens up a little. Everyone loosens up around you, you radiate a safe space kind of energy, the kind of energy that makes Johnny’s tense shoulders relax, his smile softening.

“Then I’ll be sure to eat all of this,” you respond. “Tell Yuta more spit.”

Doyoung shakes his head at you. “I’m sure Johnny’s tried to poach you already, but if you ever want a job, you can have his.”

“Hey!” Johnny laughs.

“I’ll consider it,” you grin.

“And I expect a plate of food for this brunch thing,” Doyoung continues. “I’ve heard nothing beats your breakfasts, even though you work nights.”

“Someone has been talking about me again,” you muse, eyes shifting to John.

“What can I say?” He holds his hands up in defense. “I speak only the truth.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” Doyoung insists. “Anyways, have fun you two, I’ve got food to run, our new expo girl isn’t filling Sunshine’s shoes too well.”

There’s a glint in Doyoung’s eye before he scurries away, and Johnny turns to watch the new expo girl practically short circuiting with take out orders on the line. 

“Poor girl,” you sigh. “It takes a certain kind of person to work in a restaurant.”

And an even more specific type to do what the two of you do as chefs.

Two

You’ve been on a few first dates this year, and this one is definitely a bottom three. You’ve had one drink, and you already feel like finding a way to slip out early. 

Initially, you’d been intrigued by dating a man in finance, but it’s clear now that you’re in two completely different worlds- and to make matters worse, he mostly talks about himself. He’s oozing this obnoxious confidence that makes you grimace every time you sip your drink, and not from the alcohol.

Your date is in the bathroom when Johnny calls.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you!” His voice warms your heart. “So Soonie is at a sleep over tonight, and I was thinking about making a Soonbok style menu for her birthday, all Soonie style names for food and such, planning a menu just for her- are you up to anything? Can I go through it with you?”

“Actually…” your gaze shifts to the bathrooms, “I’m on a date.”

“Oh.”

“It’s going so bad, and planning Soonie’s birthday would be such a better use of my evening. Listen, can you come pick me up? I’ll text you the address, you can come and call me when you’re outside, pretend it’s a family emergency or something-”

“You got it, I’ll be there right away.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re hopping into Johnny’s car, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“That bad, huh?” he asks.

“I don’t even want to talk about it right now,” you groan. 

“Here, distract yourself,” Johnny hands you a piece of paper, and you realize it’s a mock up menu for Soonbok’s birthday. “This is just a prototype, I was messing around with styles on some fucking site called Canva-”

“I didn’t know you were good at this sort of thing,” you gasp, taking in the intricate fonts and colouring.

“The site did all the work, trust me,” Johnny scoffs, pulling out into traffic. “Read it over and let me know what you think.”

You begin to scan the menu. There’s Soonie Side Up Eggs, and Boken Avocado Bennies, Soonbok Style Slapjacks and Suh Family Breakfast Sammies. 

“I’m shocked you came up with this many names related to Soonie and Suh,” you say.

“I spent my entire shift thinking about them in the back of my mind while I worked,” Johnny admits. “They’re not cheesy or anything, right?”

“They’re definitely cheesy,” you confirm, “but Soonie is going to love them. You’ve always been cheesy, John, and she adores you for it.”

You notice Johnny’s skin turning a little red, and it’s not just from the reflection of the traffic light illuminating the inside of his car while you wait for it to go green. 

You continue to study the menu, thinking hard the entire way back to Johnny’s house.

He’s got a modest three bedroom townhouse, with his and Soonbok’s rooms on the top floor, and the guest bedroom on the main floor with the kitchen and living room. The kitchen is, without a doubt, the heart of the home, and the two of you make your way there as soon as you’re past the threshold.

“I have some thoughts,” you admit, setting the menu down and pointing at one of the items. “Soonbok toast,” you announce, a twist on french toast, “it says here that it comes with a berry compote. I can tell that this is one of the dishes more geared toward others, because if this was really for Soonie, you’d know that your daughter doesn't even touch berry or apple crisps. She picks at the oat brown sugar on top, but doesn’t like cooked berries or fruits.”

“Yeah…” Johnny leans next to you, scratching the back of his neck. “That was the only one I wasn’t sure on, but for brunch, you have to have a french toast option, right?”

“We can still do french toast, but I think every menu item should be something she’d actually love, don’t you agree?”

“A hundred percent.” 

“What if, instead of berry compote, we do an brown sugar glaze type sauce?”

“That could be doable,” Johnny admits. “Should we try to make one now?”

“Can we do it in the morning?” you ask. “Honestly, I had one drink at the bar, I’m tired after a long shift, and I’m ready to have a few more drinks then pass out.”

“Drinks are a good idea,” Johnny grins, already heading to the fridge. “It will give me more time to think about how to make the brown sugar glaze, and I’ll get on top of that in the morning.”

“Exactly. Chef hours are over, we can just relax,” you insist, heading to collapse on his couch.

“Chef hours are never over,” Johnny reminds you, cracking open a beer and approaching so he can hand it to you.

“It’s one of the reasons dating is so hard in our profession,” you sigh, taking a swig of your drink.

“The hours make it tough,” Johnny nods. 

“So does the mentality,” you remind him. “We just… we think a little differently than others. We’re all a little too committed to our work.”

“That’s not always a bad thing, you’ve just gotta find someone you’re compatible with, someone who will appreciate that about you.” 

“Says one single chef to the other,” you laugh.

Johnny clinks his bottle against your own before taking a large gulp. “Touche.”

Three

Johnny is doing his best to work quietly, aware that the guest bedroom is just a short distance from the kitchen as he whips up eggs for the french toast batter. 

He manages to get all the way through to the cooking before you sleepily putter into the kitchen, adorned in one of his spare shirts for when you sleep over unexpectedly. You look adorable, but Johnny can’t bring himself to focus on you as he perfects the brown sugar glaze, careful not to burn it.

“Almost done,” he calls over his shoulder, “take a seat then try this with me?”

“It smells good,” you tell him, pulling out a chair at the island kitchen counter. 

“Thanks, honey, I was up last night thinking about it- had to wake up early to try it out.” He lifts the french toast onto a plate, dipping a spoon into the glaze to coat the breakfast. “I hope I didn’t wake you up?”

“The smell did,” you muse, grinning as he brings the french toast toward you, setting it down and opening a drawer to retrieve two sets of utensils.

The two of you cut into the toast, and you lift your fork. “Cheers,” you grin, and Johnny touches his food to your own before you both go in for a bite. 

The french toast is cooked to perfection, and although the brown sugar glaze is a little sweet for his liking, Johnny knows Soonie’s sweettooth will appreciate this adjustment to the recipe.

But when Johnny lifts his gaze to you, he sees apprehension in your eyes. “Did you like it?” he enquires.

“It’s really good, don’t get me wrong,” you assure him quickly, “I just think… maybe it’s missing one or two things.”

“Like what?”

“Mmm…” you cock your head to the side, “we both know Soonbok is a fan of nuts, peanut butter is her usual go to but she likes others too- what if we finely chop some pecan or walnut and add that in somehow?”

“That could work,” Johnny nods. 

“Do you mind if I take a crack at it?” you ask. 

Johnny laughs. There are very few people he’ll allow to use his kitchen, and luckily you’re the one at the top. You’ve been cooking here for so many years that he doesn’t have to guide you to anything, you stand up and immediately go in search of details to make your french toast masterpiece come to life, and Johnny happily takes a back seat while he finishes his own creation.

You go for a bag of pecans, dumping a small amount onto a cutting board before you begin to finally chop, leaving an array of different sizes of chunks. Soonie has always been a texture specific child, and Johnny loves how you incorporate all the little quirks of his daughter into your cooking like this.

In a pan with some butter, you begin to toast the nuts, getting prepped on your bread by using the already made batter he’d created earlier. As you put the toast into the pan and check the nuts, you cock your head to the side again, an endearing trait you do when you’re thinking.

“What about oats?” you suggest. 

“Do whatever you think is best,” Johnny encourages you, heading to the fridge to grab some orange juice and a nearly empty bottle of prosecco he’d opened for a recipe two nights ago.

Johnny watches you add oats to the browning pecans while he makes mimosas, and in no time at all, you’re plating the french toast, with a spoonful of the newly toasted additions, and a few spoonfuls of brown sugar glaze.

“There,” you announce, bringing the food to the table. “I added a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar to the buttered nuts and oats while you were making drinks.”

“Cheers,” Johnny grins, lifting a forkful of your creation to gently touch it to your own.

As soon as he bites into it, Johnny knows that this is a winner. The crunch of the nuts, and the oats- the added fats of the butter- the slight taste of cinnamon on the toppings- 

“Wow,” he breathes, leaning back in his chair. “Soonie really wasn’t joking when she said you’re the best breakfast chef in town.”

“Stop it,” you laugh. “You made the glaze! We did this together!”

Johnny goes for a second bite. “This is the stuff that will stick to your ribs,” he muses, not caring that the calorie content was just inflated by the addition of butter and nuts, “Good ol’ comfort food.”

“No, John, you’re a head chef now, this is comfort cuisine,” you correct him with a grin. 

Johnny swears your eyes are sparkling as you smile at him, and it makes his heart skip a beat in his chest. It’s times like these that he realizes just how smitten he is with you. You’ve been there for him, through thick and thin. There’s no way he’d be where he is now without you, and he’s not even sure if you know the full extent of it.

But at the same time, because you’re his rock, Johnny doesn’t want to overstep. He can’t lose you, not now, not ever. Soonie lost her mom to a car crash when she was three, and there’s no way in hell Johnny’s going to do something that could potentially make her lose you too.

Four

“Hey, you,” you grin, finishing pouring your glass of wine while you put your favourite chef on speaker.

“Hey, yourself,” Johnny responds, and you can practically hear the smile in his own voice. “Listen, uh, I need to ask you for a favour.”

“Shoot.”

“Two of my line chefs called in today before dinner- pretty sure they’re both hungover or something. Anyways, I’m staying, and it’s a busier night than projected- Soonie is done Girl Guides at seven, and I know it’s your night off, so if you’re busy I can find someone else, but-”

“I’ve got you,” you interrupt him. “Girls night with my favourite girl is a better plan than I had.”

“Really? You sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

“I’d say I owe you one, but at this point, I probably owe you more like a thousand.”

“And don’t you forget it,” you laugh, pouring your wine back into the bottle. “Take care of work, and I’ll take care of our girl.”

A couple hours later, you’re in Johnny’s familiar kitchen, making spiced popcorn and virgin cocktails. Soonie wants to be a chef, just like her dad, and she’s getting better every day. You love giving her soft instructions and lending a helping hand on bigger jugs of juice that her tiny fingers can’t quite hold.

Soonbok has a love for all things disney and music, and although this is probably the third time you’re watching it with her, the two of you settle in for the live action Ariel.

While Johnny is primarily a chef, back when you were in culinary school, he used to sing to himself when he was working. He was always quiet, but loud enough for you to listen to his beautiful voice. Like her father, Soonbok has a way with music, and you adore watching the eleven year old belt out Ariel songs.

She’s tuckered out from Girl Guides however, and about halfway into the movie she cuddles up next to you, her eyelids beginning to droop.

When Johnny comes home as the film is ending, Soonie is fast asleep, and you quickly motion at him to be quiet as he steps through the door.

Johnny is careful as he sets his keys and bag down, kicking off his shoes and putting away his jacket. He tiptoes toward the two of you. “How long has she been out?” he whispers.

“Half an hour or so,” you respond in a hushed tone. “How was work?”

He lets out a sigh. “Could have been better, but I’m home now. Should I get this little one to bed?”

You nod, watching the way Johnny bends down to gently lift his daughter off the couch. She stirs in his arms. “Daddy?”

“Hi, Soonie,” he beams down at her. “Did you have a good girls night?”

“Can y/n stay longer?”

Johnny’s eyes shift to you, and a smile forms on your lips. “I guess I can’t say no to Soonie, can I?”

“Here’s the deal, Soonie, y/n can stay longer, but I’ve gotta put you to bed. You had a long day, didn’t you, sweet girl?”

“Uh huh.” Soonie yawns, cuddling closer to Johnny’s chest, and the sight makes you melt.

Johnny carries her out of the living room and up to the second level. He takes some time tucking her in, and then he comes back down to join you, holding two beers in his hands. 

“So two line chefs called in, huh?” you prompt, tucking your legs up and making room for the large man on the sofa.

“I expected it from Haechan, but Mark’s generally pretty reliable. His girlfriend was on shift today, so I know he wasn’t skipping to be with her- I’m guessing they got pretty messed up last night.”

“They’re young,” you point out, accepting a beer from him. “We used to be young.”

“Used to be,” Johnny laughs, taking a swig of his drink. 

Looking at this man- this father, you realize maybe he never really got the chance to be young. At twenty five, he had a six year old, he wasn't running around blacking out and getting hung over, he was working his way up the employment ladder, dreaming about a better future for his daughter.

“You mentioned Mark has a girlfriend, I think I’ve heard about her a few times now, it’s interesting that she was in and he wasn’t.”

“I’m going to be honest, I love Mark, he’s a great kid- but, he can sometimes be peer pressured into things. Haechan has a hold on Mark unlike any I’ve seen, they bring out… interesting sides of each other.”

You laugh at the description, and it’s clear there’s more on Johnny’s mind, so you wait for him to continue. 

“It’s nice that Mark is young and in love, I can understand that- but at the same time, I just hope he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. Not that Soonbok is a mistake, of course- I just mean that… life is fragile. You think you’re going to be with someone forever, and then you’re reminded of how frail things can be.”

You frown at his words. Even after all of these years, Johnny still holds so much pain about his lost wife. You want to do your best to help Johnny in every aspect of his life, especially emotional, but this is a topic you never know how to approach. He’s right for grieving, his ex was his first love, his true love- how is there anything you could ever say to make him feel better about her passing?

You open your mouth, only to close it, and Johnny watches you intently. Sometimes he looks at you, the way he’s looking at you right now, and you wonder if he feels the same level of connection with you that you feel with him. You wonder if he wants you to kiss him, if a kiss would make him feel better, if it would - if even for a moment - help him forget about the pains he’s faced in his life.

But it’s because of the pains he’s faced that neither of you can close the distance, you’d like to think about it that way at least. Even after all these years, it’s still too early, so you simply reach out and gently squeeze his hand.

Johnny offers you a smile, and you’re glad that in some small way, maybe you’ve helped him.

Five

It’s a pretty slow day after the lunch rush, so Johnny is sitting in the back office with Doyoung while they pick at their food. They often eat together once things settle down, and today is no different. 

What is different, however, is the topic of conversation Doyoung brings up. “How’s y/n doing?” he asks, taking a bite of his salad.

“She’s good. She helped me lock in a french toast recipe for Soonie’s birthday, so that was pretty helpful.”

“That’s nice,” Doyoung nods, “but I’m more interested in what’s going on between the two of you.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asks, looking up from his schezwan beef noodle bowl. 

“I mean, you two have been friends for a long time. There’s a lot of history there.”

Johnny’s shocked that Doyoung is bringing this up. Out of all of the chef’s coworkers, he had not pegged Doyoung as being the man to bring up relationship gossip, and the whole thing takes him off guard for a moment. 

“We’re good friends,�� Johnny says finally.

“I know that,” Doyoung rolls his eyes. “What’s holding you back from being more? It’s clear how much you two care about each other.”

Johnny looks down at his food, using his chopsticks to play around with a red pepper. “We do care about each other,” he confirms. “She was there for me with Soonie when no one else was, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

“So why don’t you tell her how you really feel about her?” Doyoung presses. “It’s obvious in the way you look at each other- a smart woman like y/n, I’m shocked she hasn’t figured it out for herself by now.”

“I think, because of our history, there’s this… invisible line,” Johnny tries to explain. “Things are good the way they are now, if I try to mess with that… I could lose everything. And I wouldn’t just be losing it for myself, I’d be losing it for Soonie too.”

Doyoung lets out a breath, turning to face Johnny. “I get that it’s hard, but, you’ve got two paths ahead of you. If you give it a try, it could either end well, or badly. But if you keep yourself in this weird middle friend zone place, it’s like you’ve created a house at the crossroads, and that will never lead you anywhere.”

“When did you become so wise about love?” Johnny scoffs.

“Sumi has helped me with it,” Doyoung admits. “I met her here, we started off as friends. I’m her manager, so I had my own reasons for never taking the leap. I had my own house at the crossroads.”

“What made you finally give it a try?”

“She was there for me when my dad died,” Doyoung frowns. “Anyone can be there for you when things go badly, but when a woman truly gives her all to making things easier on you- it’s not something that should be ignored. After everything you and y/n have been through, you both deserve to give it a try.”

“How are you so sure she’d want to give it a try?”

“Because she looks at you the way you look at her.”

Six

Cooking with Johnny might just be the easiest thing in the world. You’d thought that, due to it being Soonie’s birthday, maybe tensions would be high, but as the two of you collaborate in the kitchen, bumping hips and easily communicating, things feel as they always have: easy. 

Within fifteen minutes, the two of you have seamlessly cooked thirteen breakfasts for yourselves, Soonie, her four friends, and six adults… well, seven, if you include the Boken Avocado Bennies you’d whipped up for Doyoung.

While there are a number of staff puttering around doing pre-opening tasks, it’s Doyoung who takes the time to help you and Johnny bring all the food to the table. You love watching the stoic manager announce the Soonie-inspired brunch food names, and it’s clear that Soonbok is also enamoured by the shift in Doyoung’s countenance. 

Before everyone begins to eat, you take a group picture on Johnny’s phone, loving the massive smile on Soonie’s face.

As you’re about to sit down, Johnny asks one of the other moms to take a picture of just you, him and Soonie. With the two of you on either side of the birthday girl, you can’t help but think that this feels like a family picture. 

In a way, Johnny and Soonie are your family- but in the same breath, you’re cognisant of the fact that - had circumstances been different - it would be Soonbok’s mom in this picture right now, and not you. These are shoes that can simply never be filled, no matter how much you wish you could.

The thought isn’t one you like to hold on to, and it’s a thought that’s popped into your head innumerable times throughout the years. Taking your seat next to the birthday girl, you watch her try the french toast, her eyes lighting up.

On top of her own food, Soonie picks at yours and Johnny’s. Both of you are more than happy to share so she can taste more than just one of the special items Johnny had concocted for her. 

Brunch is full of laughter and girlish giggles that light up the deserted restaurant. It’s clear how important Johnny has made Soonie feel today, and that brings you more joy than you could ever express out loud. 

As things wind down, you and Johnny begin clearing plates to the dishpit. The two of you are shoulder to shoulder, and you’re overwhelmed by an odd sense of longing that you can’t quite describe.

Johnny turns to you, mouth opening as if he’s about to say something- but as servers pass behind you, it’s clear that there’s no room for him to say whatever it is that he wanted to say to you.

You clear your throat, watching a line chef pop up next to Johnny to stack the dishes for dishwasher prep. “You should go back to Soonie,” you tell him, “I’ll finish up with the cleanup.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Of course, it’s Soonie’s day, go be with her.” You offer him a smile, and Johnny reacts by reaching out to squeeze your hand.

Without another word, he leaves you to your thoughts, and the feeling of need that’s growing steadier and steadier in your chest.

Seven

Johnny doesn’t know quite what to do with himself. Soonie’s birthday was yesterday, and today's day shift had been quite slow. He’s feeling restless with Soonie over at a friend’s place tonight, and he tries to drown himself in liquor- whether it be to chase away the loneliness or to gain courage, he’s not sure, but by nine oclock, Johnny finds himself dialing up your number.

“Hey, you,” you answer.

“Hey, yourself,” he grins. “Watcha up to?”

There’s a pause, and Johnny can hear people in the background. “I’m out actually.”

“Oh?” Johnny’s spirits dampen. “Out on another hot date?”

“Not so hot actually.”

Johnny bites at his lip. “I’ll let you go anyways.”

“It’s alright, I stepped out when you called. Do you need something?”

“I guess…” Johnny takes a breath. “I got into the liquor-”

“Say no more, I’ll be right over.”

Eight

“So…” Johnny grins as the two of you head into his kitchen, “how did the date go?”

You scoff, watching him pour a glass of wine. “How do you think it went? I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“I mean… I am pretty hard to compete with,” Johnny flashes you a sexy grin… and proceeds to knock over the glass of wine. “Shit- fuck!”

“Listen, you go take a seat, and I’ll clean this up,” you laugh, watching him lumber toward the sofa. You make quick work of the mess, and when you’re done, you approach him in the living room.

“Come sit,” he prompts, patting the spot right next to him.

“Someone’s feeling awfully cuddly today,” you giggle when he grabs your hand to pull you down where he wants you, leaving no space between the two of you.

“What can I say? I’m a cuddly drunk.” 

“I can see that,” you note, assessing him.

His gaze dips to your lips, and your skin tingles. 

“Thank you for yesterday,” he says quietly.

“I told you, I was happy to help for Soonie’s special day.”

“It’s not just that,” he insists, “you’re always happy to help. I seriously-” he swallows thickly, “I seriously couldn’t have done anything I’ve done without you.”

“Don’t be so self deprecating,” you warn him, gently pushing his shoulder. “You’d have gotten anywhere you wanted, with or without me.”

“I still don’t have a food truck,” Johnny pouts.

You’d thought maybe he’d given up on that dream- although you’ve held onto hope for Johnny, more than he knows. “Now that you mention it, actually,” you say, pulling out your phone, “I’ve been looking at food trucks for sale online for a minute, and-”

Johnny’s gaze softens. “You’ve been researching for me?”

“Just a little,” you brush it off, trying to find the listing that you’d saved three days ago. “I found this decent looking one at a good price-”

“I think I love you.”

“Huh?” you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it,” Johnny says immediately, and your heart sinks. “I don’t think I love you, I know I do.”

“John, please, that’s the liquor talking.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he insists. “Look, you’ve always been there for me. We work together- and not just because we’re both chefs. Something about this,” Johnny gestures between the two of you, “it just works, and I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”

“Yeah?” You decide to play a little coy, seeing as this confession is coming from a drunk man. “And who else sees it?”

“Doyoung, for one.”

“Doyoung?” You let out a laugh. “Have you been gossiping about me with him?”

“I swear I didn’t bring it up,” Johnny defends himself. “Doyoung said I look at you with love, and that… that you look at me the same way.”

“Well… maybe Doyoung needs to get his eyes checked?”

“Don’t play with me,” Johnny begs, pulling you closer. “There’s always been a line between us, one we’ve both been too scared to cross… but, I think-”

“Now you’re crossing it,” you finish for him. “What made you want to do that?”

“Soonie’s birthday,” Johnny admits. “Our little family picture.”

“Our family picture,” you repeat, melting inside at the fact that he’d viewed the photo in the same light you had.

“Yeah.” Johnny nods. “Our family. Mine, and yours.” 

His hand finds your thigh, and you can’t help but reach out to cup his cheek, stroking your thumb across his angular bones. “I’m not sure what to say,” you admit.

“We don’t have to say anything,” Johnny assures you. “Just kiss me, and we can forget about the world for a minute.”

Your heart is racing in your chest as you hesitantly close the distance between your lips. It’s a gentle first kiss, but it soon grows hungry, and you’re not sure if that’s due to his appetite or your own.

His tongue swipes across your lip, and you open your mouth for him, letting out a soft sigh as you get lost in the feeling of the man who’s been your best friend for years.

His hand on your thigh squeezes, and before you know it, he’s pulling you onto his lap. Your knees dig into the sofa on either side of him, and you’re hesitant to fully sit down- a kiss is a kiss, but grinding on Johnny is something else entirely.

“Johnny,” you whisper, throwing your head back to look at the ceiling, wondering how you got into this situation.

“Yes, honey?” He presses kisses along your throat that have tingles shooting up your spine.

“You’re drunk,” you say finally.

“If I’d known you liked me too, I would have done this ages ago.”

“It’s not about that,” you laugh. “It’s about the fact that you’re drunk, and I want you sober when we do this.”

“Do what?” he teases, squeezing your hips, his tongue grazing over your jugular.

“You know what,” you retort with a huff. “Look, you’re right about the line neither of us wanted to cross.”

Johnny pulls away from your throat, looking up at you. “Huh?”

“The line. The unspoken line. All these years, something has been there, between us- but, we both respect your wife, we respect Soonie- I think… I think the time is right for this now, well, not right now, but, once you’re sober again.”

“You’re right,” Johnny concedes. 

“How about we watch a movie, then we can go to sleep.”

“You’ll stay over?” There’s a boyish excitement in his voice and it makes you melt.

“Uh huh.”

“Will you stay in my bed with me?”

“Just for cuddles, but only if you promise to drink a bunch of water before we sleep, I don’t want you hung over in the morning.”

Johnny grins. “You got it, honey.”

Nine

Johnny wakes up next to a warm body, and it’s the first time in years. Your presence is the only thing that proves to him that last night wasn’t a dream, some twisted fantasy- No, you’re real, and you’re here, and you’d kissed him back-

He stays cuddled with you for a while, basking in the glow of being in love, truly in love, and finally able to admit it to himself. It’s been so long since his wife, and part of him had forgotten the feeling- maybe that’s why it had taken years for him to realize how much he adores you.

After a while, Johnny decides he needs some water- and he wants to make breakfast for you. He wants to spoil you the way you spoil him.

Johnny is careful as he exits the bed, taking one last look at your peaceful face before heading down to the kitchen.

It’s easy for Johnny to get lost in the act of cooking, focusing on bacon at first before switching to eggs. As it was a few days ago, the smell of food wakes you up, and soon you’re joining him by the stove.

“Watcha making?” you ask, wrapping your body around his.

God, the feeling of you is- fuck, he can’t even describe how good it is.

“Wanted to make you breakfast,” he tells you, plating your food first. Once he has you settled and sitting, he quickly throws together a breakfast sandwich for himself.

“You and your sandwiches,” you laugh, digging into your bacon and eggs.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, coming to join you.

“So well,” you tell him, bumping your knee against his own, “even if someone snores.” 

Johnny can only laugh, he’s dealt with Soonbok complaining about his loud snoring for years. “How are the eggs?”

“Good!” 

You’re so chipper this morning, and he loves it. Johnny takes a bite of his sandwich- you’d cooked the eggs at the brunch birthday two days ago, and he realizes Soonie was right. “Your eggs are better,” he muses.  

“I’d planned on making breakfast for you, but you jumped the gun, big guy.”

“I wanted to pamper you for a change.”

“Cooking is my love language,” you tell him. “I’m excited to make you breakfast more often.”

“I like the sound of that,” he smiles.

“When’s Soonie come home?”

Johnny checks the clock on the stove. “In an hour or so.”

“As much as I’d love to see her, I think maybe it’s better if I’m not here when she gets home,” you say thoughtfully. “She’s a smart girl, I bet she’d be able to tell that something is up.”

“She definitely would,” Johnny confirms. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you that much if you stick around.”

You giggle, reaching over to squeeze his knee.

“How are you feeling about last night?” Johnny asks.

“I’m feeling good, how about you? Still remember all of it?”

“In perfect detail,” he breathes. “Although… a little reminder wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t?” you tease as he leans in, cupping your face so he can press his lips to your own. 

God, you’re such a good kisser. It just works. It’s hard for him to even pull away, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Take me out on a date,” you say.

“Hmm?”

“A date,” you repeat. “Just because we’ve known each other for years doesn’t mean we can skip steps.”

“I respect that,” Johnny nods. “I’ve got a busy week, and it will have to be a night where Soonie is out, but… we’ll make it work.”

Johnny’s so certain it will work, because things between you have always worked, and he can’t wait to see where this takes you. 

Ten

It’s been a week, but finally Johnny found time for that date night. Soonie is out with friends again, so it’s the perfect opportunity to get some alone time with the man who’s been on your mind constantly.

He picks you up in his old Dodge truck, compliments your outfit, and refuses to tell you where you’re going or what the plan is.

When you arrive back at his place, you’re honestly not even surprised. “Let me guess, you took me to the best chef in town?”

“You know all my lines, honey,” he grins. 

“So, chef, what’s on the menu?”

“I thought maybe you’d take a seat and let me cook for you.”

“As if I’d take a back seat,” you scoff. “What are we making?”

Johnny had made hand made fettucini before he’d come to pick you up. You let him take lead in making a white wine, garlic cream sauce with button mushrooms, spinach and crispy prosciutto, but you insist on being his sous chef and taking care of the chicken.

The smell is heavenly, and as he finishes it all off with fresh herbs, you think you start to drool a little.

“For a guy who claims to specialize in sandwiches of all things, you’re pretty good with italian,” you muse as you take your first bite and nearly moan.

“I’m pretty good with a lot of things,” Johnny laughs. 

“Look at you being all cocky.”

“You love it.”

He’s so right.

The two of you chat and laugh together while eating. It’s one of the best meals you’ve had in a very long time. When dinner is over, Johnny suggests a movie. As the two of you settle on the couch, he prompts you to come closer, and soon, the two of you are cuddled together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He’s so warm and comforting- you find yourself dozing off a little, although, maybe it’s something of a food coma from all the pasta.

Johnny brings his lips to your ear, and you shiver when he asks, “Should I carry you to bed, honey?” 

Part of you wants to tell him you’re not Soonie and you won’t be calling him daddy any time soon- but another part of you wants to lean into this. It’s been so long since you felt like you could be babied, and if anyone is going to bring out that side of you, it’s going to be Johnny.

“Won’t I be too heavy?” you ask, cognizant of the stairs he’ll have to climb.

“Have you seen my arms? I won’t drop you, honey, I promise.”

You allow him to scoop you up, and you feel like a giggling school girl again as he takes you up to his room. “Do you have a shirt I could wear to sleep?” 

“Choose anything,” he tells you. “When you’re changed, you can join me in the bathroom, I went and got a toothbrush for you.”

Before you know it, you’re cuddled in Johnny’s bed, wearing panties and one of his big shirts. He’s pressed to your back, his mint tinged breath warm on the nape of your neck. There’s no pressure for sex, no pressure for anything other than the situation at hand, and you can tell you’re both very content with it. 

Soon, you’re drifting off to sleep in the arms of a man who’s been a cornerstone of your life.

It’s a deep, dreamless sleep, and it passes in the blink of an eye. You awaken to light beaming through his window, a warm body behind you, and something hard pressed against your ass.

You laugh to yourself- morning wood isn’t something men can help. Even so, you stir a little, adjusting to get more comfortable.

Johnny releases a sleepy groan.

You stay still, not wanting to wake him, but it feels like the damage is already done when he wraps you tighter in his embrace. “Morning,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you respond lightly.

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to shift, and you feel his body tense when he does so. “Fuck,” he goes to pull away, “sorry, I uh-”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, grabbing his forearm so he can’t move away, “keep cuddling me.”

Johnny returns, flush against your back, his hard cock pressing even more firmly to your ass.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” he asks.

“More than okay with it.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward, pressing his lips to your throat. “Are you okay with this, too?” Johnny mumbles, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

“Uh huh,” you sigh, wiggling your bum back against him and arching your neck to give him better access.

His hand finds your hip, gently squeezing you through the shirt you’re wearing. His lips are soft against you, but there’s a need in his motions too, and he begins to grind against your ass.

You let out a groan when he finds the sweet spot just below your ear, and he licks at it, making you moan louder.

“Are we going to do this?” he asks, nipping at your earlobe.

“Fuck it, yes.” You can’t hold back anymore, you turn in his embrace, quickly mounting him and smashing your lips to his own.

Johnny grins into the kiss, holding your hips while you settle on top of him, grinding down against his clothed cock while your tongues begin to clash.

His kisses have you seeing stars, your mind going blank except for him.

Soon, his hands slip under your shirt, slowly grazing up your sides. “Can I take this off of you?” he asks.

You open your eyes to look down at him, studying his pretty lips and his chocolate eyes. 

Instead of responding, you sit up, grabbing the hem of the oversized T and lifting it over your head, tossing it to the side and baring yourself to your best friend for the first time.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, gaze falling to your tits. His hands stay at a respectable location on your hips, and you grab one to lift it to your breast, adding pressure so he knows he’s allowed to give you a test squeeze.

Johnny begins to massage you, and you throw your head back, releasing a groan, swiveling your hips against him.

His thumb brushes over your hardened nipple and you mewl loudly, core throbbing from the stimulus.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, propping himself up so he can take your nipple into his mouth.

You cup the back of his head, keeping him on your chest while he worships you. His other hand finds your neglected breast, gently pinching and massaging while he sucks on your sensitive bud.

“John-” You don’t even know what to say, you’re entirely wrapped up in him. 

You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. 

Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more. 

Johnny pulls away from your breasts, cupping the back of your head and drawing your lips to his again. “We should take our clothes off,” he suggests.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all week,” you laugh. 

He helps you off of him, and you lay next to each other for a moment, both fumbling to get naked. As soon as you’re fully nude, Johnny rolls on top of you, slotting between your thighs. His lips find yours again, and his free hand trails down your body, teasing through your pussy lips.

“You’re already so wet,” he muses.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” you admit.

“Me too,” he assures you, capturing your mouth with his own while he teases a finger into your hole. You push your hips up, wanting more, and you latch onto his strong shoulders, moaning into the kiss.

Johnny’s a big man, and his finger is enough to have you wriggling below him. “Easy, honey,” he grins, looking down at you with eyes full of adoration. “Gotta stretch you open.”

“Fuck,” you groan- does this man read erotica in his spare time? How is a thirty year old, single dad, this well versed in dirty talk even though you’re pretty sure he hasn’t been laid in forever?

He adds a second finger, curling them to find your gspot. As he pumps his hand, lips pressed to yours in a mad frenzy, you can hear your wetness with each motion. 

It feels unreal- have fingers alone ever done a number like this on you?

Johnny twists his hand a little, knuckles dragging along your sensitive inner walls. It’s like he’s trying to carve out a space for his cock, although, you know now that this won’t be enough. He’s thick and throbbing on your hip, his length so large you think he might just blow your entire back out when he slips it into you.

Even though you’re eager to be - for lack of a better word - impaled on him, Johnny takes his time kissing you, his fingers continuing their motions. “Wanna rub your clit for me?” he asks, moving his mouth to your neck. “I want to watch you cum.”

Your toes curl at his words, and you bring your hand to your pussy, drawing circles on the sensitive bud while he continues to stroke your inner walls.

Your core throbs around him, whimpers of pleasure escaping you. 

“You’re being so good for me, honey,” Johnny tells you, making your insides flutter even more from the sincere words of praise.

Cumming hasn’t always been the easiest thing in the world for you. There are many partners you’ve had who never had the wherewithal to get you there- but somehow, Johnny just knows you. Or maybe, it’s because he knows you- because you feel safe with him, that you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

It also helps that it’s your own fingers on your clit, you know exactly what you like, what pressure, what motions- the digits working you open are just an added bonus that have you seeing stars as you make your way to your peak.

“John,” you gasp, tits pushing up toward his chest when your back arches. “I’m gonna-”

“Let it out for me,” he encourages you softly. “You deserve it.”

“I deserve your cock,” you whine, shocked at your own blatant neediness.

Johnny only laughs. “After,” he assures you, “I promise.”

A few more circles of your clit has the cord in your stomach snapping, your orgasm washing over your like warm summer waves. Your entire body tingles with delight, gasps leaving you as your pussy fully throbs around his fingers, your clit pulsing with desire.

“So pretty,” he whispers, bringing his lips to yours.

From the way he smiles against your mouth, you can tell he doesn’t care that you’re moaning so much he can hardly kiss you.

It’s a closeness you’ve never felt before, and he helps you through your orgasm until you’re pulling your hand away in favour of grabbing his shoulders.

Johnny takes his fingers out of your core, and you watch under hooded eyelids as he brings them to his lips, sucking them clean and releasing a groan. “Everything you do tastes better than what I bring to the table.”

You laugh. He’s such a fucking chef.

“Some might even say it’s…” you stifle a giggle, “Finger licking good.” 

Johnny lets out a laugh, eyes lighting up. God, you love this soft, laughter infused sex- you’ve never experienced anything like it.

You grab the back of his neck, drawing his mouth to your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and there’s something so erotic about it. He moans loudly, rubbing his cock between your wet pussy lips.

The tip of his cock is stimulating your clit and it sends jitters through you. You can feel how soaked you are, and you wouldn’t be surprised if this ended with a wet patch on his bed from how turned on you’ve been throughout this whole experience.

Johnny seems intent with grinding against you, but you’re lacking patience today, and you reach between your bodies to grab his cock.

Johnny breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours and looking down at where you’re gripping him. He doesn’t say anything, his gaze shifting back to your own. There’s a question in his eyes, and you’re both aware that this is the final line. Once you cross this, there’s no going back.

You bring his cock to your wet hole, and with very little effort, you help guide the head of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans immediately, fists bunching at the pillow on either side of your head. “You’re so tight- are you sure you’re good with this?”

“You’re just- fuck,” you whimper as another inch sinks into you, “you’re just big!”

“Maybe you’ll have to get used to it,” he grins, pushing deeper.

You moan loudly, clawing at his shoulders. “Maybe I will,” you gasp. 

He brings his mouth close to your own, until your lips are just brushing, eyes meeting when he says, “I’m looking forward to it.”

As he kisses you, he pushes fully into your warm, wet, throbbing core. His hips are flush to your own, and you swear no one’s ever been this deep inside of you.

Your legs shake on either side of his hips, body suspended in this odd purgatory-like place between extreme pleasure, and an uncomfortable feeling of being stretched more than you’ve ever been stretched before.

“Are you good?” he asks, lips moving to your cheek while you struggle to aclimatize to his cock.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly. “Just- fuck me, it will be easier.”

“If you say so, honey.”

The first thrust has your toes curling, eyes clenching shut with pleasure. A sound that’s never come from you before leaves your lips- a sound you’ve heard in porn, but always thought was an overexpression.

Your fingers dig into Johnny’s shoulders, and he holds you close, mouth finding your neck while he begins to fuck you.

Although, would this be called fucking?

The fluidity of his motions- the way you’re clinging to each other- it feels more like making love, and your skin tingles with the realization.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me you love me again, like you did when you were drunk.”

“I love you,” he says immediately, holding you even tighter. “I love you so much that sometimes it hurts.”

Your entire body both relaxes and is set on fire by his words, your core throbbing desperately around his massive cock. 

“Johnny-” you whimper.

“Tell me you love me too,” he pleads.

“I love you too,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair and bringing his face close to yours so you can look up into his eyes. “I love you too.” 

Johnny’s hand finds your thigh, hiking it higher on his hip. Somehow, he hits even deeper now, and you wriggle below him, more sounds of pleasure escaping you and filling the room.

“You sound so good, honey- I won’t last if you keep squeezing me and moaning-”

“Then don’t last,” you gasp. “Want you to cum.”

“Where should I cum?”

“Inside- I’m on birth control, just- fuck, Johnny, cum inside.”

He groans, pressing his mouth firmly to your own, his tongue dancing along yours as his motions get even faster.

You’re clinging to him for dear life at this point, and when he slips a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, you nearly begin to cry from how good it feels.

“Love the way your pussy sucks me in when we play with your clit,” he tells you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

“Do you think you can cum for me again? I don’t want to be the only one cumming.”

“Yeah, yeah- fuck, yeah, I can cum again,” you whimper desperately.

“Let me know when,” he instructs, adjusting his motions ever so slightly so each thrust has his cock dragging against your gspot.

You let out a squeal of delight, your thighs shaking around his hips, stomach muscles clenching almost painfully-

“Fuck, John, I’m there- shit, fuck-”

Johnny shuts you up with his lips against your own, and for a second time, your orgasm hits you.

Your core clamps down incredibly hard on his cock, and Johnny groans deeply above you, fingers twitching on your clit. He keeps his pace, and a moment later, you feel his cum filling you up, coating your walls with warmth.

The feeling of his large length throbbing in your own oversensitive hole has your entire mind going fuzzy, and you kiss him like a woman lost, like a woman so completely in love that nothing else matters.

You ride out your orgasms together, until you’re both shaking. Only then does Johnny come to a stop on top of you, kisses turning to a more gentle nature as he holds you close. 

“I love you,” he tells you again.

You smile, blinking up at your best friend. “And I love you.”

Epilogue

The two of you are in the kitchen cooking brunch. Johnny is pressed to your back, watching intently, asking all sorts of questions about how you cook eggs to make them so delicious and superior to his own.

“The secret ingredient is love,” you tease.

Johnny can only laugh, holding you tighter.

He’s so lost in you, that he loses track of time, and as the two of you are sitting down to eat, Soonbok walks through the front door. She stops in her tracks when she sees you, letting her little overnight bag slip to the ground.

“Oh, hi, baby,” Johnny stands up immediately.

“Hi, daddy,” Soonie says, allowing her dad to pick her up for a hug while her eyes shift to you.

“Did Sabrina’s mom drop you off?” Johnny asks, looking out the door to wave at Soonie’s friend’s mom as she drives away.

“As always, daddy,” Soonie laughs. “I didn’t know y/n was coming over.”

“Surprise,” you grin, also standing so that when Johnny sets his daughter to the ground, she can run to give you a hug of your own.

Once Soonie is done squeezing you as tight as her little arms can muster, she looks between you and Johnny. For some reason, Johnny feels his heart beginning to race, there’s a knowing in his daughters eyes.

“What’s going on?” Soonie asks finally.

“Y/N and I just had a little sleep over,” Johnny tries to explain, and the concept isn’t a new one, you sleep over frequently… in the guest bedroom.

“So…” a wicked grin appears on Soonbok’s face, “Does this mean you’ll stop trying to get me to call her auntie now?”

“What?” Johnny lets out a surprised laugh.

“You heard me, daddy,” Soonbok’s smile widens. “Does this… does this mean we’ll be a real family now?”

Johnny lets out a shuddery breath. In the years you’ve been helping raise Soonbok, Johnny has broached the idea of her calling you Auntie Y/N, as a respect thing, and his daughter has always refused. Had she seen the connection this whole time? Has this been something Soonbok has wanted ever since she was a five year old with an inquisitive mind and an even more discerning eye?

Johnny’s gaze shifts to you, and you flash him a warm smile.

“Yeah, baby,” Johnny picks up his daughter. “We can be a real family now.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! This was such a fun project for me, thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me to write for Chef John, he deserved his happy ending :)

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🔮 preview. The man ordering can’t see you lying on the floor of the food truck. He has no idea what’s going on- and you feel like tempting fate a little. You bring your hand to your pussy, beginning to rub yourself through your pants, adjusting the vibrator ever so slightly as it buzzes inside you. Johnny nearly drops the tomato he’s holding, quickly tearing his gaze from yours. You’ve never seen him trying to focus this hard- and failing. What had been your torture initially, has just become his own, and you kind of love it.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (fucking in a food truck), use of vibrator while helping a customer, vibrator as a makeshift gag ball, breast worship, fucking with half your clothes on, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink, etc…   I petnames. (hers) honey

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 230

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

You love working with Johnny. Sure, it had been rough at first, getting his food truck on its feet, but it’s been two years, and with some insanely good marketing, you’re now running one of the top trucks in the city.

It’s a joy to watch Johnny fulfill his dreams every day- his odd obsession with sandwiches of all things has only added to your connection. Watching him smile and charm guests makes your heart swell with joy, and on the rare occasion Soonie comes to do the register and take orders, it feels like you’re just one happy family.

Today, however, is a weather disaster. The forcast had mentioned light sprinkles, but cuddled next to Johnny looking out at the torrential downpour, you both feel a little bamboozled.

“You know what would make this more fun?” Johnny asks.

“Customers?” you suggest.

“Yes, but also… I got you something.” The chef flashes you a sly smirk, and you pull away from his shoulder to asses him.

“Am I going to like where this is going?” you ask.

He was single for so long- and there’d been so many sexual things he’d missed out on during that time, but the two of you are making up for it every moment you have alone. You suppose this is a moment alone, so you’re not really shocked that his mind is in the gutter.

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[linamisk]

I remember her first day of kindergarten, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she explored her little world. Today, I see her dreaming of a brighter future, but war has shattered her dreams into pieces.

I share these photos with you so you can see for yourselves how our lives have changed in the blink of an eye. My little girl, once full of joy and vitality, now carries responsibilities beyond her years. A photo of her in kindergarten, a photo of her waiting in line for a drop of water, and a photo of her holding a pot of soup with trembling hands—these images tell our story, the story of Gaza's children who deserve a better life.

Every drop of water, every morsel of food, and every donation is a small candle lighting their dark path. Let us be that candle, let us be the hope in their eyes.

[homunculus-argument]

When we were little, my brother needed a straight up harness and leash. He didn’t get out of it till kindergarten, when school introduced the novelty of standing in line. A lot of people when he was on his leash would judge my mom over it. She tells the story about a rather bitchy woman who said it was child abuse…until mom let him off the leash on some sort of outing at the zoo with woman and her kids. My brother was a straight up menace when he was off the leash.

Now, my nephew needs a leash, but mainly because this kid is so dramatic he’s laid facedown on store floors and loudly declared himself too tired to live. Tugging his leash signals Dramatic Floor Time is over. He has a bad habit of walking off but he mainly needs it for the dramatics. Sometimes he’ll hold his own leash if our hands our full because “I can carry myself ok”. He’s soon for no leash I think. Depends on my sister, but he’s gotten better at not doing the dramatics. I personally love his floor time it’s funny but hey it’s a sign of being able to know how to act in public I guess and he’ll at least beat his uncle out by a year.

Dramatic kids become the funniest adults if they're allowed to. Also, threatening to let the kid loose when someone's amd about the leash would be the funniest response. Like trust me, you do not want me to unleash this little thing.

[angelbwrry]

cherry hill. eren j. 11k.

cw 𐙚 nsfw link, plug! eren, long plot,cannabis consumption, lots of angst, little bit of domestic violence by readers bf, ony, armin and connie cameo, car sex, toxic-ish reader, black reader, spanking, toe-sucking, oral, size difference, dirty talk, cream-pie, creaming, multiple orgasms, cervix kissing, pet names, thumb in ass, fluff at the end, lowercase intended! or in which you and your best friend do the dirty. . . minors shoo!

a/n𐙚 just wanna say, i love eren and i worked really hard on this so if you enjoy please like, comment or reblog:)

“i know you wanna tell me, so just say it.”

you soak in his words, eyes staring at the pink hello kitty rolling tray, fingers slowing as they work on the blunt-in-progress. you were more of a let someone else roll girl, but you were trying to get better. the tray, with its playful design, contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. each curve and line of the hello kitty image seems to mock your fumbling fingers, but you persist. the rolling paper crinkles slightly under your touch, the scent of fresh herbs filling the air.

you can feel his gaze on you, a mixture of amusement and patience, as you try to perfect the roll. the blunt takes shape slowly, each twist and tuck a testament to your determination. envy bubbles up inside you as you think about how his always come out so flawlessly—stuffed to perfection, smooth, and not a single piece of weed dropped. you blame it on his big ass hands; there's so much you can do with big hands. his fingers, adept and confident, always seem to mold the tobacco leaves with an ease that leaves you in awe.

“so?”

oh yeah, back to his question. you shift in your seat, eyes now on your manicured feet propped against the dashboard of the camaro. the soft hum of the car's engine fills the silence, and you can feel the tension building. you don’t know if you should say anything; you know how eren gets. he’s a hothead, you’ve known that ever since you first laid eyes on him in kindergarten. ha, who knew a six-year-old had the strength to break a grown man’s nose? the memory brings a small, amused smile to your lips, but it quickly fades as you consider how to respond.

“"ʚ♡ɞ.” annoyance laces his voice,he hates when you get cagey like this.

“it’s nothing.” he knows you’re lying, the way you’re focusing immensely on your toes. the dim light from the dashboard illuminates your face as you stare at your feet, making it clear you’re avoiding eye contact. he admits they’re pretty, but not that damn interesting. he already knows that you and your boyfriend got into a nasty fight, maybe the nastiest yet. but, he wants to hear it from your mouth. he eyes the bruise on your arm, his jaw clenches. the sight of it makes his blood boil, he’d already pistol whipped that hoe once; he doesn’t mind doing it again. the tension in the car is palpable, every second stretching out as he waits for you to open up.

you can feel his gaze now burning into you, the weight of his concern pressing down on you. the silence in the car is deafening, broken only by the occasional hum of the engine. you know he’s waiting for you to say something, anything, but the words are caught in your throat. you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “it’s just... things got out of hand,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. his grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white. “out of hand?” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. “that doesn’t explain the bruise on your arm.” you flinch at his words, the reminder of the fight sending a fresh wave of pain through you. you know he’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. you don’t want to admit that your boyfriend hurt you, that you let it happen.

the car feels like a pressure cooker, the tension building with each passing second. you can see the muscles in his jaw working, the effort it’s taking him to stay calm. “look,” he says finally, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. “you don’t have to protect him. if he’s hurting you, you need to tell me.” you can hear the desperation in his voice, the need to protect you. it’s almost enough to make you break down, to spill everything. but you hold back, the fear of what might happen if you do keeping you silent.

"well, i broke up with him, so, it’s . . . nothing.” you turn your attention back to the blunt. he hums. “for real this time?” you nod, feeling the weight of the decision settle in. you’re so tired of dealing with that manipulative nigga. every interaction with him felt like walking on eggshells, constantly trying to avoid triggering another argument. you don’t even know how the latest argument started, something about eren. it was always something about eren. he hated him, convinced that men and women couldn't just be friends. every time you mentioned eren, his face would darken with suspicion. he always accused you of being too close to eren, implying you were more than friends.

you’d thought about doing something just to spite him, to prove a point, but deep down, you knew you could never go through with it. the thought of jeopardizing your friendship with eren was unbearable. eren had been there for you through thick and thin, a constant source of support and understanding. losing him as a friend was a risk you weren't willing to take. the bond you shared with eren was one of the few stable things in your life, and you valued it more than anything.

as you sit there, you feel a mix of relief and sadness. relief that you finally took a step towards freeing yourself from a toxic relationship, but sadness for the time and energy wasted. you take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to let go of the lingering tension. maybe now, you can start to heal and focus on the relationships that truly matter to you.

“you got a light?” you ask, finishing up. eren sucks his teeth. “girl, y’know i always got a lighter.” he leans over, reaching past your legs and popping open the glove compartment. your skin tingles as he brushes you, and you pull your legs down, tucking them underneath you. a smile tugs at your lips when you see the hello kitty lighter. it’s comical seeing his tough, drug-dealing self carrying around such a girly lighter. he thinks it’s cute. it reminds him of you. he also always makes sure to put your weed in a hello kitty package, loving the way your eyes always lit up when he handed it to you.

“wanna do the honors?” you pass the misshapen mess to him. “you’re dead wrong—y’know what, never mind. i’d love to.” he holds the lighter in his hand, and your eyes glisten as you watch the end burn orange as he inhales. almost immediately, you’re reaching for it, and he chuckles at your neediness. it’d been a while since you last smoked, admittedly, you were trying to stop. but, life was life-ing and you needed it. joyfully, you wrap your glossy lips around the blunt, inhaling the white tendrils of burning toxins. the foggy smoke splashes onto your teeth and slips into your dark eyes. the sweet substance fills your lungs, and you exhale your relief in a cloud of grey smoke. it swirls upwards like a mist, devouring everything in its delicately deadly path before curling into nothingness.

eren watches you with a mix of amusement and something else, something softer. “you always look so peaceful when you smoke,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. you glance at him, your eyes slightly glazed but filled with gratitude. “it’s my escape,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “sometimes, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

he nods, understanding. “i get it. everyone needs an escape.” he takes another drag, the end of the blunt glowing brightly in the dim light of the car. you both sit in comfortable silence, sharing the moment, the smoke, and the unspoken bond that ties you together. in this small, hazy world, everything feels right, if only for a little while.

"i hate when you wear lipgloss, makes the blunt sticky as hell," eren states as he grabs the blunt from you. "a girl's gotta look pretty when meeting her plug," you joke, pearly whites gleaming. and pretty you are. he would never admit it, but he admired the fuck out of you—the way your brown skin always seemed to shimmer, the way you always smelled so damn good, even the way you laughed—it was ugly as hell but he loved it.

"you don’t need makeup to look pretty," he says, ignoring the way his dick twitches in his pants as your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. "i know, but i feel better when i do it." you run your hands through the silky strands; his hair is so damn shiny. you wonder what his secret is. you can’t help but run the dead ends between your fingers, this long, beautiful ass hair and he refuses to keep up with it. he mostly keeps his hair in a bun, but for you, he wears it down because he knows you like playing in it. he doesn’t mind; it actually feels good.

he’s gone home with cornrows more times than he can count, and he always thought they looked ridiculous on his white ass, no matter how much you assured him they looked good. "you need a trim; i got you tomorrow after class." he only nods and puffs the blunt. he looks so beautiful—inked arm resting on his lap, sharp jaw clenched as he inhales. you know it’s weird to look at him this way, but you can’t help it. he’s eye candy; it’s okay to look . . . right?

the faint scent of mango from his air freshener fills your nose, your favorite. you take yet another drag from the joint, the tip glowing bright orange once again, then passing it to eren. “lord," eren starts, taking a hit and exhaling slowly, "remember that time you greened out at my place?"

a smile pulls at your lips, how could you forget? your stomach hurt for like three days straight, you had to call out of work and class. "oh god, don't remind me! that was so embarrassing."

"nah, it was hilarious," he replies, boyish grin on his face. "you were convinced the couch was swallowing you whole. you kept yelling, 'help, it's got me!'"

you couldn’t help but giggle, pushing at his shoulder, his stocky build didn’t move but it was worth a shot. "stop it! i can't believe i did that."

"and then," he continued, chuckling, "you tried to call 911, but you forgot how to use your phone. you were like, 'why isn't it working?' and i had to take it away before you actually called them."

you wiped tears from your eyes, still giggling. shit, you were gonna mess your makeup up. damn eren, and his talent to always make you laugh. ”stoppp,” you whine, crossing your arms over you chest and jutting your lip out.

he smiles, enjoying the sight of you so carefree. "okay, okay, i'll quit. but seriously, that was one for the books. i've never seen anyone freak out over a couch before."

you shook your head, still smiling. "you're ridiculous," you picked at your chipped acrylic nail, "but that's why i love hanging out with you. you always know how to make me laugh." eren’s smile widens, taking another hit before passing the joint back to you. "well, someone has to keep things interesting," he says. "and besides, what's life without a little laughter?"

“mhm,” is all you get out before your glossy lips wrap back around the blunt. you could feel those intrusive green eyes on you, he couldn’t help but admire your pretty ass. perfect makeup dewy and light with faux freckles sprinkled across your nose, wispy lashes framing your upturned eyes, those juicy lips pulled into a half-smile. you’d recently cut your hair into a bob, and he loved it so much. he wanted to run his fingers through your silk press but remembered the last time he’d done that, you’d punched him in the face. "never touch a black girl's hair," is what you’d said.

you’re little as hell compared to him, but you pack a serious punch. he swore his eye randomly twitched for two weeks after that. his eyes trailed down. you were still in your gym clothes, him having pulled up right after you got home. it was hard to ignore the way his heart had skipped when he saw you wearing that cherry red matching set, the shirt clinging to you perfectly, showcasing every curve. your ass jiggled as you ran to his car in those tight-ass pants, every hip dip, every dent in your round ass visible. you’re so damn pretty, he could stare at you all day.

the way your body moved, the way you carried yourself with confidence and grace, it was mesmerizing. he watched as you took another drag, your lips wrapping around the blunt with a casual elegance that drove him wild. your eyes met his for a brief moment, and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him.

"stare any longer and i’ll charge you, jaeger." he snorts at this but pulls his gaze away. he clicks the power button on his phone and sees it’s approaching midnight. you’d been with him for half an hour, yet it had only seemed like a few minutes. you had that effect—time seemed to fly by when he was with you, and he hated it. eren knew you had classes in the morning and would probably be heading back to the apartment you shared with sasha soon. she hated when the two of you smoked inside, so naturally, you’d resorted to hotboxing in eren’s modded-out camaro.

"shut up," he mumbles, cracking a window to let some smoke out. you watch as it collides with the night air and dissipates. "fuck, i’m so tired. today was leg day—squats and the stair master killed the fuck outta my me." you puff, hands massaging your sore thighs. he wishes those were his hands. "since when are you such a gym rat?" eren looks amused, sticking the tip of the fat blunt out of the window and ashing it. "m’ don’t know. trying to stay consistent. not everyone can be built like a greek statue naturally," he laughs as you glare at him.

"what can i say? i just hit the gene jackpot." he’s got that right—he’s so damn pretty. you’re actually jealous of the way his lashes are naturally long and kiss his rosy cheeks. this time, it’s you who’s staring. you’d been refraining all night, but the way he’s rocking that black T and black denim jeans with brown nike dunks definitely made you look twice. the ink beautifully sits on his skin, his scent overwhelming.

"well, catch me in a couple of months—my body will be so t." a smile plays on your lips. "oh it's not t now?" he rests back in his seat. pulling down the visor, you start checking your makeup, choosing to ignore his comment. bloodshot brown eyes stare back at you, and you’re unsure if it’s from tiredness or the weed, maybe even both. you didn’t even realize how sleepy you were until now, the warmth of a hot shower beckoning you.

"mmm, i’m so sleepy. should probably get inside." a soft yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, feeling the tension ease away. "i know, you need your beauty rest. can i have a hug before you go?" eren pokes his lip out, and you giggle, finding it amusing that this six-foot-four man is pouting like a little girl. he knows it’s hard for you to say no to him. "fine," you mutter, rolling your eyes playfully.

you grab your hello kitty tray, the cute design always bringing a smile to your face, and slip your crocs back on, their familiar comfort grounding you. smoke billows into the night air as you push open the door, the humid air a stark contrast to the coolness inside the car. you walk around the car to where eren is already waiting for you, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim streetlights.

his embrace is warm and comforting, enveloping you in a sense of security. he smells so good, a mix of cologne and something uniquely him, and he notices that you do too, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he holds you close. you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.

after a few moments, you attempt pull away. "i really should get inside," you say, your brown eyes meeting his lighter ones. he nods, understanding but not letting go just yet. "noo, jus’ one more minute," he murmurs, pulling you back into his arms. you giggle and close your eyes, savoring the warmth and comfort of his hug. you don’t know what’s up with his clingy behavior lately, but you don’t mind. it feels nice to be appreciated for once in your sad life.

he finds it hard to restrain himself as your ass sways with each step you take away from him. god, you’re so thick that it drives him absolutely crazy. he can’t help but imagine sitting between those luscious legs as you trim his hair tomorrow, the thought sending shivers down his spine. he watches intently, waiting until you’re all the way inside the house before he finally hops back into the cool car. what is he gonna do about you?

eren is pissed at you, more pissed than he’d probably ever been with you. you told him you were done with jean, yet here you are on his snapchat story. he couldn’t see your face, but he knows it’s you from your hair. it stung knowing you’d lied straight to his face last night. he clenched his fist so hard he drew blood. did you take him as a joke? were you that fucking dumb to let yourself be manipulated into jean's arms again? the thought made his blood boil. in a fit of rage, he pushed connie’s arm, which was holding the phone showcasing the snapchat story, sending the device flying.

eren’s mind raced with a mix of anger and betrayal, unable to comprehend how you could do this to him. he felt a storm of emotions brewing inside him, each one more intense than the last. he had trusted you, believed in you, and now, seeing you with jean again, felt like a dagger to his heart. his stormy green eyes, usually so full of determination, were now clouded with hurt and fury. his warm olive skin seemed to flush darker as his anger flared, veins pulsing visibly against his clenched fists.

he remembered the conversation from last night vividly. you had looked him in the eye, your voice steady, promising that you were done with jean. he had believed you, letting a small glimmer of hope spark in his chest. but now, that hope was crushed, replaced by a seething rage. he couldn't understand why you would lie to him, why you would go back to jean after everything.

eren’s thoughts spiraled further into darkness. did you think he was a fool? did you think he wouldn’t find out? he felt the sting of betrayal deep in his gut, twisting like a knife. his mind replayed the moment he saw the story, the recognition of your hair, the undeniable proof of your deceit. every second felt like an eternity as he stood there, grappling with the overwhelming emotions.

he wanted to confront you, to demand answers, but he also knew that in his current state, he might say something he’d regret. the pain and anger were too raw, too consuming. he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the image of you with jean kept flashing in his mind, fueling his rage. the room around him seemed to blur as his focus narrowed on the betrayal he felt.

eren knew he needed to calm down, to think rationally, but it was nearly impossible with the torrent of emotions raging inside him. he couldn’t shake the feeling of being made a fool, of being played. he had always prided himself on his strength, his ability to see through lies, but now he felt vulnerable, exposed. the trust he had placed in you felt like a weight dragging him down, suffocating him.

he looked at connie, who was now staring at him with wide eyes, clearly taken aback by eren’s sudden outburst. but eren couldn’t bring himself to care. all he could think about was you, and the betrayal he felt so deeply. he needed to confront you, to get to the bottom of this, but he also knew that he needed to calm down first. taking another deep breath, he tried to steady his racing heart, but the anger and hurt were still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“eren, you need to calm the fuck down.” connie’s tone was serious, a stark contrast to his usually laid-back demeanor. eren, normally so composed, was pacing the room like a caged animal, his face a mask of frustration and pain. connie could see the turmoil in his friend’s eyes, the way he was lashing out because he was hurt. he knew eren loved you, even if eren himself refused to admit it.

connie didn’t understand why eren kept his feelings bottled up. it was stupid, like some high school drama. he watched as eren grabbed the things you’d left behind and tossed them into the trashcan with more force than necessary. connie, was speaking but all eren could hear was his thundering heartbeat.

his mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and he knew he had to confront you, but he needed to do it without losing control. he stormed out of the room, leaving connie behind. he made his way to your place, each step fueled by the anger and hurt he felt.

when eren arrived, he didn't bother knocking. he shoved the door open with a force that echoed through the room, and there you were, sitting on the couch, looking up in surprise. the sight of you, so calm and unaware of the storm brewing inside him, only fueled his anger further.

"eren, what's wrong?" you asked, concern etched on your face as you stood up, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and confusion.

he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his voice shook with emotion. "why did you lie to me?" he demanded, his eyes burning with hurt. "you said you were done with jean, but there you were, on his story.

your eyes widened in shock, and you quickly took a step forward, your heart pounding. "eren, it's not what you think," you began, but he cut you off, his voice rising with a mix of rage and desperation.

"then what is it?" he snapped, his words dripping with sarcasm and pain. "because it sure looks like you went back to him."

you took a step closer, reaching out to him, but he stepped back, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and pain. "eren, please, listen to me. i didn't go back to jean. i was just talking to him, trying to clear things up." you stressed, it hurt you that eren was hurting. but, you had no one to blame but yourself.

"clear things up?" eren repeated, his tone bitter and disbelieving. he scoffed and his tongue against his cheek, god, he’d never hated anyone like he hated you right now. "and you couldn't tell me that? you couldn't trust me enough to let me know?"

"eren, i didn't want to upset you," you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. "i thought i could handle it on my own."

his face contorted with rage and heartbreak. "you always think you can handle everything on your own," he shouted, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions. "but you never think about how it affects me! you never think about how much it hurts me to see you with him!"

"eren, i—" you started, but he cut you off again, his voice filled with raw pain.

"i love you, damn it!" he confessed angrily, the words tearing through the air like a storm. "and you just keep running back to the men who hurt you, instead of the ones who want the best for you. you're a stupid, selfish bitch!" his words cut through you like a knife, and you could feel your heart shattering.

you tried to reach out to him, to touch him, but he slapped your hand away, his eyes filled with tears. "don't touch me," he said, his voice cracking. "you're done with me. we're done."

you could only watch through tear-filled eyes as eren turned and walked out of your life, the sound of the door slamming behind him echoing like a final, devastating blow.

the days that followed were a blur of agony and tears. you cried until you couldn't cry anymore, the pain of losing eren too much to bear. he didn't come over, didn't show up when all of your shared friends hung out. he'd blocked your number, cutting off all contact. the hurt was overwhelming, and you felt like a part of you had been ripped away, leaving a gaping hole that nothing could fill.

the days turned into weeks, and the pain lingered like a dark cloud over your life. you tried to distract yourself with work, with class, with anything that could take your mind off eren, but nothing worked. every little thing reminded you of him—the scent of his cologne that still lingered on your clothes, the way he used sit patiently while you practiced braiding on him.

you found solace in small things, like the comfort of your hello kitty tray that eren had given you as a gift. it brought back memories of happier times, when you both would sit together, sharing meals and laughter. the scent of cigar smoke, which you once found annoying, now brought a strange sense of comfort, reminding you of the nights you spent together, talking about everything and nothing.

you even found yourself wearing your crocs more often, a gift from eren that you used to tease him about. now, they were a reminder of his thoughtfulness, of how he always wanted you to be comfortable.

but the nights were the hardest. lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, you couldn't escape the memories. the way eren used to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you, providing a sense of security and warmth that you now desperately missed. you longed for his touch, for the reassurance that everything would be okay. but he was gone, and you were left to navigate the darkness on your own.

sasha couldn't stand seeing you in such a slump. with a gentle touch, she stroked your hair, brushing back the tears that had been silently streaming down your cheeks. "if eren's shutting you out like this, maybe it's for the best," she said softly, her voice a mix of concern and tenderness. she shifted slightly, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed, creating a comforting presence beside you. "we're all going to see a drive-in movie tonight. you should come. i think it would be good for you," she added, her eyes filled with a genuine hope that you would find some solace in the company of friends.

her words lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. maybe sasha was right. it hurt to not have eren here, the absence gnawing at your heart, but you couldn't keep living in this shadow of sadness. the thought of being surrounded by friends, the comfort of the open night sky, and the distraction of a good movie seemed like a small step towards healing. sasha's presence was reassuring, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

you took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the weight of your sorrow start to lift, if only just a little. the idea of a night out, filled with laughter and companionship, seemed like a lifeline. sasha's hand remained on your shoulder, a silent promise that you weren't alone in this. with a tentative smile, you nodded, deciding to take that first step towards reclaiming your happiness.

“yay, that’s the spirit! i’ll tell everyone you’re coming. they’ve missed you,” sasha squealed excitedly. “we’re leaving in like an hour, i gotta go get ready!” she slipped out of your room and shut the door behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

tossing the covers from your body, you slid your feet into your teddy bear slippers and made your way to your vanity. the light was bright and harsh on your eyes, and you had to blink a couple of times to adjust. how you felt was the epitome of your outside appearance: puffy eyes, dry skin, chapped lips. you looked terrible, and you couldn’t believe you’d let yourself go so much in the span of a couple of weeks. “alexa, play ‘more than a woman’ by bee gees,” you said, beginning to get to work.

pushing your hair back with a fluffy pink bath headband, you slowly went through your makeup routine, finding the familiarity of it all comforting. it’d been about thirty minutes, and you were finishing up, just needing to draw your freckles on and do your lip combo. you were surprised your makeup had come out so well, seeing as you hadn’t done it in a while. but as you stared at the clean, smooth base in the white wooden vanity mirror, you were pleasantly surprised.

you were currently lining your plump lips with brown, smudging the liner a bit with your ring finger for an ombré effect. you just had to straighten your hair and find something to wear, then you’d finally be done. you couldn’t help but feel a wave of anxiousness wash over you. what if eren was there? you didn’t think you could be in his presence without breaking down. you’d heard he’d gotten a girlfriend—how could you not? sasha was always so damn loud, and the walls in this place were thin as hell. you weren’t jealous, but the thought of seeing him with someone else made your stomach churn.

you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that tonight was about having fun and reconnecting with friends.

you’d finished with your hair, meticulously pressing each strand until it fell just right. satisfied with your reflection, you turned your attention to your closet, pushing aside hangers and rifling through a sea of fabrics. after a few moments of contemplation, you settled on a red sleeveless cropped shirt, the bold "miller genuine draft" logo emblazoned in white letters across the front. it was eye-catching and edgy, exactly the vibe you were going for. you paired it with low-waisted denim jean shorts that hugged your curves and accentuated your figure perfectly. to complete the look, you slipped into a pair of black knee-high platform boots that added a few inches to your height and a lot of attitude to your ensemble. it was simple but still stylish. look good, feel good, right?

“sasha! you ready?” you called out, grabbing your bottle of victoria’s secret ‘bombshell’ perfume and giving yourself a generous spritz. the familiar scent enveloped you, adding a final touch of confidence.

“yep—you look hot,” sasha replied as she entered the room. her brown hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, showcasing her delicate features. she wore a cropped black shirt that highlighted her toned midriff, paired with crisp blue skinny jeans that fit her like a second skin. thigh-high boots clung to her legs, adding a touch of drama to her outfit.

“thanks, sash, you look hot too. connie will be drooling,” you teased, noticing the faint blush that spread across her cheeks as you winked at her. she thought you didn’t know about her and connie hooking up, but once again the walls in this place were like paper, and secrets didn’t stay hidden for long.

“you ready?” you asked, grabbing your phone and bag, feeling a rush of excitement for the night ahead.

“sure am,” sasha said with a grin, hooking her arm through yours. together, you made your way out, ready to take on whatever the night had in store. the air was electric with anticipation, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of exhilaration as you stepped into the night, your friend by your side.

the air is warm, and there's a gentle breeze that makes the evening feel perfect. the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden hue across the horizon, and the sky is painted with shades of orange, pink, and purple. as the light fades, the large screen at the drive-in movie theater becomes more prominent, ready to transport its audience into the eerie world of the classic horror movie, "it."

cars are lined up in neat rows, their occupants settling in with blankets and pillows, creating cozy nests in the backs of their vehicles. some have even brought lawn chairs, spreading them out under the open sky. the chatter of excited moviegoers fills the air, a mix of laughter and anticipation as everyone gets ready for the show.

mosquitoes are out in full force, buzzing around annoyingly. thankfully, you remembered to bring bug spray, and you take a moment to apply it liberally, ensuring you can enjoy the night without constant swatting. the faint smell of the spray mingles with the more pleasant aromas wafting through the air.

the scent of freshly popped popcorn is unmistakable, its buttery goodness making your mouth water. nearby, the sweet, sticky aroma of candy apples tempts your senses, reminding you of childhood fairs and carnivals. funnel cakes, with their crispy edges and dusting of powdered sugar, add to the olfactory delight, and you can almost taste the sweetness in the air. various other delicious sweet snacks are also available, from cotton candy to caramel corn, each scent blending into a symphony of indulgence.

"can you believe this shitty ass popcorn was twenty dollars? could’ve brought my own shit." ony sucks his teeth as he plops down in the back of armin’s ford truck. armin laughs, shrugging his shoulder at his friend. "should’ve gotten funnel cake, you can never go wrong with funnel cake," he says, mouth full of the delicious sweet treat. ony puffs, peering over at the familiar blue honda, a grin spreading across his face. "i know that ain’t, ʚ♡ɞ!" he shouts excitedly.

he hasn’t seen you in weeks. shit, the only person that had is sasha and even she wouldn’t give much intel on you. you can feel the stares of your friends as you get out, feeling terrible for just disappearing without an explanation but you’d needed time to yourself. you were sure they were caught in the loop of all that had happened between you and eren.

"hi guys," you smile, waving. immediately armin and ony are encasing you in a tight hug, sasha joining in. you giggle, enjoying the moment. "we missed you! how dare you leave me alone with these two idiots," armin jokes. they finally pull away, ony finding his place back in the truck and stealing some of armin’s funnel cake. "m’sorry, just been going through some things." armin nods, he knows.

"y’know i'm always here for you, right?" he says softly. you nod, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as your anxiety creeps in.

"okay good," armin gives your shoulder a squeeze before he finds his way back to his truck.

"where’s connie?" you peer over at sasha, she looks worried as her fingers tap furiously on the screen. "um, he should be here any second i-" she’s cut off as the sound of a familiar engine rumbles through the air.

you freeze. it’s him. he’s here. your heart thunders in your chest, each beat echoing louder than the last. a wave of nausea hits you so hard you almost want to throw up. everyone is looking at you, or at least it feels that way, and you can feel the walls closing in. the world seems to narrow, and you have to grip the roof of your car to steady yourself as your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

"ʚ♡ɞ, just breathe, okay? i didn’t know he was coming until the last second, i promise," sasha says, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos inside you. she rubs your back in slow, comforting circles, her touch grounding you in the present moment. her breath of relief is almost palpable as your breathing begins to slow, the tightness in your chest easing just a bit.

you take a deep breath, letting the cool evening air fill your lungs, and try to focus on the familiar scent of popcorn lingering in the air. it reminds you of simpler times, and the scent is oddly comforting. the noise of the drive-in theater fades into the background as you concentrate on sasha’s voice and the steady rhythm of her hand on your back. gradually, the panic subsides, you can just avoid him . . . right?

“yooo, "ʚ♡ long time no see.” connie cheeses as he steps out of the camaro you’d been in countless times before, yet it all seemed so unfamiliar now. you could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t see him as he hid behind that five percent dark tint.

“hi constanceee,” you tease, giggling as his face pulls into a scrunch at the use of his full name. he pulls you into a hug, it’s friendly and warm. “and don’t be throwing out my government, girl,” connie says, pushing your temple with his pointer finger as he pulls away. you laugh, putting your hands up, “whatever you sayyy. you look nice.” you hum, noticing his outfit—a white longed sleeved shirt under a black thrasher shirt, baggy jeans hanging low around his hips topped off with a pair of scuffed-up converse.

if ’stoner skater boy’ was a person, it’d be connie. he smiles at your compliment, “you don’t look too shabby yourself.” he nudges your shoulder. “thanks, connie.” you murmur, swiping a strand of hair behind your ear. “stealing my man?” sasha pops her head into the conversation, you roll your eyes with a smile. “he’s all yours.” you giggle, watching as the cute pair hook arms. this was the most touchy you’d ever seen them; you wondered if they were dating now.

as the sun dips below the horizon, the sky darkens, and the first stars begin to twinkle. the screen flickers to life, and the familiar, haunting music of "it" begins to play. the audience quiets down, the atmosphere shifting from festive to tense as the story unfolds. the glow from the screen casts eerie shadows across the rows of cars, adding to the spooky ambiance.

unfortunately, you were third wheeling. you were in the back seat of your own car, feeling a bit out of place as connie and sasha whispered and giggled in the front. you try to focus on the movie, but your mind keeps drifting back to the way things used to be, before everything got so complicated. eren still hasn’t showed, and you wonder if he’s with his girlfriend. you want to ask connie but your pride doesn’t let you, you sink into your seat as the two start to kiss.

“I’m gonna get a drink.” you curl your lips inwards, unsure if they even heard you over the sound of their lips smacking together. must be nice. you push open the car door and stand to your feet, stretching your sore limbs. the back of your honda was not comfortable in the slightest bit. eren is parked right beside you, and the urge to open his passenger door is strong, but you resist and walk past with your head down. your throat burns as you fight back tears.

suddenly, you’re flat on your ass, grass poking into your thighs. you look up to see eren standing over you, his expression unreadable as he stares down at you. he looks so fucking good, his long hair pulled back into a messy low bun, strands framing his stoic face. he’s wearing a black shirt with a design printed on the front, and it’s hard to ignore the way his inked muscles stretch around the fabric. a pair of khaki loose jeans hang around his hips, paired with chunky converse. he’s wearing a gold bracelet, the one you’d given him. you want to say something, anything, but your mouth is dry and you can hardly think with the way your heart is beating.

he extends a hand to you, and you hesitate for a second before grabbing it. his touch is warm and familiar, and you can’t resist as you pull him into a hug. his arms don’t wrap around you, but you don’t care. the waterworks start up and you’re fully ugly crying as you bury your face into his shirt. the familiar scent of him makes you cry even louder.

“e-eren,” you hiccup, “p-please l-let me talk to you.” you beg, your voice desperate but you don’t care. you need to explain yourself. eren was still pissed at you, no doubt about it. but seeing you so vulnerable, begging for him to talk to you, pulled at his heartstrings. his heart and mind were at battle on what to do. part of him wanted to walk away, get in his car, and drive away. but the other part wanted to embrace you, wipe your tears away, and tell you it’s gonna be okay.

“please don’t cry, we . . . can talk. just stop crying,” he finally murmurs.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "i didn't mean to hurt you," you whisper, your voice trembling. "i miss you, eren. i miss us. i can't stand the thought of losing you." your words are rushed, desperate, as if saying them faster will make them more true. eren's eyes soften for a moment, and you think you see a flicker of the old eren, the one who would hold you close and tell you everything would be alright.

he finally wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. the warmth of his embrace is overwhelming, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you've felt without him. you inhale deeply, the scent of his cologne mixed with a faint hint of cigar smoke filling your senses. it's a smell that brings back so many memories, both good and bad. you cling to him, your fingers digging into his back as if you're afraid he'll disappear if you let go. he’s missed this more than he wants to admit, you look so damn pretty. he’s missed the fuck outta your face, your smile. you’re wearing these tight short denim jeans and he wants to grab a handful of your ass and knead it between his fingers.

"i'm sorry," you sob, your voice muffled against his chest. "i know i messed up, but i need you. i can't do this without you." eren's grip tightens, and you feel a glimmer of hope. maybe, just maybe, things can go back to the way they were.

“i-,” eren starts but his words catch in his throat. he takes a deep breath, “we can talk in my car.” he finally says, pulling away from you. he leads you back to his car, opening the door for you. your heart races as you slide into the seat, eren popping open his door and sliding in. it’s quiet for a few moments before eren speaks up. “so explain, why did you go back to jean?” he asks, trying to push down the rage that’s bubbling inside of him.

you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “i didn’t fuck him, i really just went over there to get some things and clear the air.” you try to keep your voice steady as you speak. “he took that picture and posted it to make it seem like we were back together. he fucking knew it’d get to you.” you ramble, tears falling from your eyes. you hate how much of a crybaby you’re being, but you can’t help it. you’re fighting for him, and you’re not gonna let him walk out of your life again.

“i would never intentionally hurt you, eren. i care for you so fucking much! and it eats me alive knowing that i hurt you. but i promise, if you give me a chance, i can—i will treat you how you deserve to be treated. when you told me you loved me, i realized how selfish i had been. it was in my face all along, and i didn’t realize. i’m in love with you, eren, and i think deep down i always have been—” your rant is halted as eren presses his lips against yours. it’s soft and passionate, and you melt in his touch.

eren pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “i’ve been so angry,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “i didn’t know what to believe. seeing that picture... it broke me.” his hands cup your face gently, thumbs brushing away your tears. “but hearing you say all this, i believe you. i want to believe you.” he takes a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “i love you too, and i want to make this work. but we need to be honest with each other, no more secrets.”

you nod, your heart swelling with hope. “i promise, no more secrets. i’ll be completely honest with you from now on.” you take his hands in yours, squeezing them tightly. “we can get through this, eren. together.”

eren smiles softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and determination. “together,” he agrees, his eyes lock onto yours, a silent conversation passing between you. the tension in the air is palpable, thick with unspoken words and simmering emotions. he leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours, and your heart races in anticipation.

without a word, he cups your face in his hands, his touch both gentle and possessive. the world around you fades into a blur as his lips capturing yours in another kiss that is both intense and hungry. it's as if he's pouring all his emotions into this one moment, and you respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair.

the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more desperate. his tongue teases the seam of your lips, and you part them willingly, inviting him in. the taste of him is intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the sensation, every nerve ending alight with desire.

"i-i need you," you whimper against his lips, feeling your core throb from the sloppy kiss you two shared seconds ago. a smile pulls on eren’s lips, his thumb trailing against your soft, two-toned, plump lips. your eyes are full of desire and lust, and he fucking loves it. “want me to fuck that pretty pussy?” his voice is deep and raspy. you nod, clenching your legs together, feeling the heat in between them stir at his filthy words.

"get in the back, pretty girl," he taps your thigh, and you quickly find yourself stepping over the center console as you climb into the back seat. the leather seats are cool against your skin, contrasting the warmth radiating from your body. eren follows close behind you, his presence filling the small space as he adjusts the seats to give you both optimal room. the sound of the seats clicking into place is drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

his fingertips dig into your thighs, leaving a trail of tingling sensations that make you gasp. your back is pressed against the door, the cool metal seeping through your clothes as you watch him intently. he pulls off your boots, large fingers fumbling with the buttons of your shorts now, each movement deliberate and teasing. you lift your hips instinctively, allowing him to slip them off more easily, your legs spreading wide in anticipation.

"look at this, soaking through your panties already?" he laughs, a deep, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. his thumb traces the wet stain adorning your underwear, the fabric clinging to your arousal. a shaky breath escapes your mouth as his fingers brush against your clothed clit, the sensation both electrifying and maddening. he has you in his hand, he knows it.

he presses wet kisses along your thick thighs as he pulls your underwear down your soft brown legs, you smell so damn good it’s got him twitching eagerly in his pants. his kisses trail down your legs, holding your calf gently, your breath hitches as he places pecks all the way down to the gold bracelet clasped around your ankle. “e-eren,” you whine, pussy throbbing.

with each kiss, his lips leave a lingering warmth on your skin, sending shivers up your spine. he takes his time, savoring every inch of your body as if committing it to memory. the way he moves is deliberate, almost worshipful, making you feel like the most precious thing in the world. his hands are firm yet gentle, guiding your further legs apart with a reverence that makes your heart race.

as he reaches your toes, he pauses, his eyes darkening with desire. his tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive skin before he takes your toe into his mouth, sucking gently. the sensation is electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. his eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze making you feel exposed and vulnerable, yet completely safe in his care. the air is thick with the scent of your arousal, stickiness seeping onto his leather seats.

“tell me what you want, ʚ♡ɞ,” his hands massaging your feet, he sure knows how to make a girl feel special.

“eat my pussy, please.” you don’t even recognize your voice as you whisper the words. you’re hot with desire, eren's lips dart out to lick his lips before he leans down, inked hands pressing into your inner thighs as he holds you in place. “with pleasure,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust.

your head smacks against the window as his tongue moves lazily over your sopping folds. his mouth feels like heaven on your sex, each stroke deliberate and slow, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “so fucking good,” he whines into your wetness, the taste driving his senses into overdrive. you’re the perfect combination of salty and sweet, and he finds himself pressing his face further into you, desperate for more.

his tongue flicks and swirls, exploring every inch of you with a fervor that makes your toes curl. his inked hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you open as he devours you. the sensation is overwhelming, your body arching off the seat as you lose yourself in the pleasure he's giving you. “oh my god,” you whine, your voice barely more than a breathy moan as his tongue ravages you.

each movement of his mouth feels like pure ecstasy, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to bring you to the edge. he alternates between long, languid licks and quick, teasing flicks, keeping you on the brink of release. the sounds of his mouth on your wetness fill the car, mingling with your breathless moans and the soft creak of the leather seats.

eren's eyes flick up to meet yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters, his sole focus on bringing you pleasure. his tongue delves deeper, finding that perfect spot that makes you see stars. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your body trembles with the force of your impending orgasm.

“let’s see how many fingers you can take angel,” eren's eyes glint mischievously as he slides a single digit inside of you. the feeling is both foreign and electrifying, causing your breath to hitch. you grip the headrest, your knuckles turning white as he follows it up with a second finger. the stretch is intense, but you bite your lip, determined to endure. when he adds a third, your body tenses, and you’re sure you’ll split as he pushes another in.

“h-hurts,” you whine through clenched teeth, your nails digging further into the headrest, leaving crescent-shaped imprints. eren pauses, his expression softening as he presses a tender kiss against your thigh. “it’s okay, just relax around ’em princess,” he coos, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “m’ trying,” you want to sob, but take a deep breath, trying to focus on the warmth of his lips on your skin rather than the discomfort.

eren continues to kiss your thighs, his mouth trailing gentle, reassuring kisses that help you relax your walls around his fingers. the sensation of his lips, combined with the rough yet careful movement of his hand, begins to ease the tension in your body. “o-okay, you can move,” you gulp thickly, your eyes shutting as you brace yourself.

“good girl,” he begins to push his beefy digits into your greedy pussy, the stretch becoming more bearable as your body adjusts. each movement is deliberate and slow, allowing you time to acclimate. “taking my fingers so well, so proud of you kitten.” he murmurs.

the mix of pleasure and pain sends waves of pain conflicting sensations through your body, but eren's gentle kisses and soothing words keep you grounded. you focus on the warmth of his touch, the reassuring pressure of his fingers, and the way he makes you feel safe and cherished even in moments of vulnerability.

“y-your fingers a-are s-so long!” you drool, hands finding themselves back in eren’s hair.

“you wanna cum on em’?” eren smiles, eyes gazing at you as you fall apart underneath him. you’ve pulled your shirt up and his cock twitches as you pinch and squeeze your hardened nipples between your fingers.

“y-yes! s-so close!” your sweet voice is a symphony of desperation and desire, each word trembling with the intensity of the moment. eren's eyes darken with determination, the sound of your plea igniting a fire within him. he doesn't hesitate, his mouth finding its way back to your sensitive clit with a hunger that matches your own.

the car's backseat is cramped, the leather seats sticking to your skin, adding to the rawness of the moment. outside, the movie plays, but inside the car, it feels like time has stopped. the scent of weed lingers in the air, mixing with the fragrance of your perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that heightens your senses.

“oh god, eren!” you gasp, your back arching off the seat as his tongue flicks over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

the sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. you grip the edge of the seat, your fingertips aching as you fight to hold on to the last shreds of your control. he’s so deep inside of you you can feel his fingers kissing your cervix, you wanna run but eren's eyes that are peering up at you as you come undone are saying don’t even try.

his hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm yet gentle, grounding you as his mouth works its magic. “i can feel you trembling, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends shivers down your spine. his large hand repeatedly cracks against your thigh as he spanks you, pushing you further over the edge.“let go for me. i want to feel you come undone.”

his words are your undoing. you cry out, your body tensing as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. “eren, i-i can’t—” you stammer, your voice breaking as the orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. your vision goes blank for a second, “m’ cumming! c-cumming!” you hiccup.

he doesn’t let up, his mouth continuing its relentless assault on your clit, prolonging your pleasure until you’re a quivering mess beneath him. “that’s it, just like that,” he whispers, his voice filled with pride and satisfaction. “you’re so beautiful when you come for me.”

as the waves of pleasure finally begin to subside, you slump against the door, your chest heaving with the effort to catch your breath. eren crawls up beside you, his eyes softening as he takes in your flushed, blissed-out expression. “are you okay?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

you nod, a lazy smile spreading across your lips. “more than okay,” you murmur, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“can i fuck you?” he ask almost hesitantly, you giggle. was he really asking you that?

you nod,”please.”

in an instant, eren is naked, manspread as you’re straddling him. the heat between your bodies is palpable, every inch of your skin tingling with anticipation and desire. your lips are intertwined with his, a passionate dance that leaves you both breathless and yearning for more. his thick cock twitches against your warm pussy, the sensation sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within you. his arms dig into your skin, his fingers kneading your doughy thighs with a fervor that speaks of his desperation and need.

he can’t get enough of you, his voice breaking as he pleads, "ʚ♡ɞ p-please,fuck me," the whine in his tone making your heart race and your core tighten. you grind your slick folds against him, feeling the hardness of his cock pressing against you, so hard it feels like he might explode at any moment. "patience baby," you murmur against his ear. he shivers, his body reacting to every word, every touch, every breath. your stomach churns with desire as his head lulls back against the seat, his eyebrows knitting together in a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

you rub your throbbing clit against his swollen pink flushed tip, the friction driving you both to the edge of ecstasy. his eyes flutter closed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggles to maintain control. every movement, every touch, is a symphony of sensation, a dance of desire that leaves you both yearning for more.

his hands move from your thighs to your hips, guiding your movements as you continue to grind against him. each stroke, each grind, brings you closer to the precipice of pleasure. his moans grow louder, more desperate, as he feels you thriving against him. "please," he whispers again, his voice barely audible over the sound of your combined breaths. you can feel his need, his desire, and it mirrors your own. "since you asked so nicely," you sink onto him, moaning softly at the stinging stretch.

“you’re s-so big,” a broken sob leaves your lips, he was gonna fucking break you.

“you can take it, i know you can.” eren murmurs against your shoulder, arms holding you in place. he resists the urge to buck his hips into you, you’re so tight and warm around him.

once you’re adjusted, you begin raising your hips on eren, your mewls of pleasure mixing with the rhythmic slap of your ass against his thighs. the sensation is intoxicating, each movement sending waves of ecstasy through your bodies. eren's hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guides your movements, his eyes dark with lust and need.

"god, you feel so good," he groans, his voice thick with desire. he pushes his thumb into your asshole and you nearly scream, “so tight,” he gasps,his words send a shiver down your spine, adding fuel to the fire burning within you. you lean forward, your hands resting on his chest for support, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips. the connection between you is electric, every touch, every movement intensifying the pleasure you both feel.

"mm, you like that, baby?" you whisper, your voice breathless and filled with longing. you can see the answer in his eyes, but you want to hear him say it. you want to hear the desperation in his voice, the need that mirrors your own.

"yes," he gasps, his head falling back against the seat, his eyes closing again as he loses himself in the sensation. "please, don't stop."

you smile, a sense of power and satisfaction washing over you. you increase your pace, your hips moving faster, the sound of your bodies coming together echoing in the space. each thrust brings you closer to the edge, the pleasure building with every movement.

"you're so deep," you moan, your voice trembling with the intensity of your feelings. eren's grip on your hips tightens, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps. you can feel him getting closer, his body tensing beneath you. you’re a creamy mess as you ride his cock, the sick sound of your pussy queefing each time you lower onto him making your stomach twist.

you nearly scream as eren begins bucking his hips up into you, his thrusts fast and unrelenting. the intensity of his movements sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making it hard to catch your breath. his inked hands grip your cheeks, pulling them apart to glide deeper into your wetness. the sensation is overwhelming, tears brimming in your eyes as he rolls into you with a fervor that leaves you trembling.

"tell me you love me," he pants, his voice rough and desperate. his eyes lock onto yours, filled with a need that mirrors your own. the urgency in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, adding to the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

"i love you," you manage to gasp, your voice breaking with the intensity of your feelings. the words feel inadequate to express the depth of your emotions, but it's all you can manage in the heat of the moment.

eren's mouth descends to your chest, his lips latching onto one of your nipples. the sensation of his mouth sucking on your sensitive flesh sends another wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you arch your back and cry out. his hands continue to guide your movements, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

"mm, i fucking love you," you sob, the words spilling out in a rush of emotion. the tears that had been brimming in your eyes now spill over, streaking down your cheeks as you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure and love you feel for him.

eren's pace quickens, his hips driving up into you with a relentless rhythm that leaves you breathless. each movement is a testament to his need for you, his desire to feel you, to be as close to you as possible. the connection between you feels electric, every touch, every thrust amplifying the intensity of your emotions.

"i love you so much," he groans, his voice thick with emotion. his grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushes you both closer to the edge. the sensation of his body moving against yours, the sound of your breaths mingling, the raw emotion in his voice—it all combines to create a moment that feels both profound and beautiful.

as you reach the peak of your pleasure, your body shudders, a wave of ecstasy washing over you. eren follows moments later, seed decorating your sore walls.you collapse against him, your bodies slick with sweat.

eren's arms wrap around you, holding you close as you come down from the high. his lips press gentle kisses to your hair, a soft, loving gesture that contrasts with the intensity of what you just shared.

“ain’t no fucking way—“ ony, connie, and sasha say in unison as they watch the car rock. ony laughs out loud, smacking connie's shoulder. he pulls out his phone and starts recording, connie shoves ony's hands away. what's his damn deal with hitting whenever he laughs? connie feels a bit jealous. at least someone’s getting some. he looks over to sasha, who’s crying, “girl—is you crying?” connie breaks into a smile.

“i’m just so happy they made up! i hope she gets pregnant. i wanna be an aunt.” she sniffles, wiping her tears away with a smile.

“you are mad wild for saying that—where’s armin?” connie asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

“here! what’s up—oh,” armin's voice trails off as he looks at the car, funnel cake dropping out of his hand. he stands there, mouth open in shock, the powdered sugar from the funnel cake dusting his shoes.

“did he forget his back window isn’t tinted?” connie asks, raising an eyebrow. they all burst into laughter, the absurdity of the situation hitting them all at once. the car continues to rock, oblivious to the audience it has gathered.

@cinnn4mon all rights reserved, pls don’t steal or post my work anywhere else. byeeee!🫧

[jgracie]

౨ৎ luke castellan x fem!reader | mentions of having kids

"baby, in the nicest way possible, i don't think your cousin's one year old child is going to care if you got her the pink dress with the bunny on it instead of the purple one." luke said, his arms getting tired from holding the two hangers up for you to compare

your brows furrowed at his comment - your cousin had done so much for you over the years, with you being a demigod and all, and you loved her daughter to bits, so it was only natural you wanted to get the perfect gift for her first birthday party next week

crossing your arms over your chest and narrowing your eyes at luke, you said, "you don't know that! maybe she doesn't even like bunnies or pink or purple and she'll hate the whole gift! how would you feel if a baby opened a gift you got it and it started bawling its eyes out, huh, lukey?"

luke could feel his face turning red at the nickname you sparingly used and you couldn't help but smile, knowing you'd unintentionally won yourself a little more time

and so you stood for another minute or two, critically analysing the almost identical dresses while luke critically analysed your face - dazzling eyes, and a pair of pouted lips he so wanted to make out with. unfortunately, making out wasn't very appropriate behaviour for the baby clothes section of a store (or any section, really)

"i still can't decide," you said, breaking the silence and snapping luke out of his lovestruck daze, which you luckily didn't notice. taking the two dresses from your boyfriend, you held them up for him to see and said, "if this was our kid, which one would you get her?"

luke's jaw dropped open. he hadn't been expecting that question at ten in the morning, or ever. sure, he wanted kids with you, but he was never sure if you wanted the same, his doubts about being a good dad clouding his judgement

just to confirm his suspicions, with a bright smile on his face, luke asked, "you wanna have kids with me?"

now it was your turn to get shy. you hadn't really thought your choice of scenario through, but you did want to have kids with luke. he was everything a girl could ever ask for and more in both a friendship and a relationship, so it was no wonder you wanted to take that step eventually

still, you couldn't let him get too cocky, "you know i didn't mean it like that, babe, it's just a hypothetical question!" unfortunately for you, luke caught the slight stammer in your voice

"there's a reason you thought of that though! c'mon, i know you do! they'd be really cute, our kids. imagine, a little girl with your eyes and my luscious locks? easily the prettiest at her kindergarten. d'you see the vision?"

you allowed yourself to slip into dreamland for a second. a big beautiful house, maybe on the coast, or with the most gorgeous garden, who knows? luke, your husband luke, carrying a girl who was the perfect mix of the two of you on his hip. he'd tell her all sorts of stories from your lives as demigods and she'd laugh and say something along the lines of, "silly daddy, there's no such thing as an empousa!" because your kids would never be exposed to the same mercilessness and wrath you were, that's for sure

"hello, earth to y/n?" luke said, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. all of a sudden, you were at the clothes store again

trying to calm your now rapidly beating heart, you said, "sorry, did you say something?"

"yeah, i said we're getting the pink one 'cause i'd never let my baby girl walk around looking like an eggplant."

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

girldad!joel

Hi, it's me thinking about Sarah's dad Joel Miller again. I've been seeing the wonderful headcanons floating around and I just couldn't get all of these sweet images out of my head.

girldad!joel holding a band in between his lips as he keeps glancing down at a magazine tutorial on how to style Sarah’s hair for her first school dance. “It wouldn’t hurt if you just stopped squirming baby girl.”

girldad!joel taking the day off from work to chaperone Sarah’s class field trip to the farm. He sits on the bus, his broad body takes up a whole seat. He gives Sarah her space but she just can’t help hanging with him the whole day. 

girldad!joel wrapping presents on Christmas Eve and lining them up under the tree, stepping back and being proud of how many gifts he can buy his little girl. 

girldad!joel picking Beauty and the Beast to watch for movie night because he feels a lot like Maurice, a single father who would do anything for his spunky, smart daughter.

girldad!joel pouring two bowls of cereal and joining Sarah on the couch for cartoons on Saturday morning. He relishes these lazy mornings, even if Sarah almost always spills milk on the couch.

girldad!joel grocery shopping, trying to stick within his budget but allowing the splurge of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a teeny bopper magazine for Sarah because she’s always such a big help.

girldad!joel dropping Sarah off for her first day of kindergarten, telling her she’s such a big girl and how proud he is of her. He only allows himself to feel a sense of pride that he’s taking good care of his baby girl after he steps up into his truck and is alone. A single tear wells in his eye before he starts the engine and drives to work. 

girldad!joel wearing a cheap plastic tiara and not being able to fit the acrylic ring around his thick finger while sitting around the coffee table and playing Pretty Pretty Princess with Sarah.  

girldad!joel taking Sarah to the hardware store to pick out the perfect color for her big girl bedroom. She sleeps in his bed that night while the paint dries, Joel stays up relishing the feel of her little, warm body against his because he knows it’ll probably be the last time he can hold his baby girl as she falls asleep. 

girldad!joel letting Sarah pick the music in his truck, his cheeks turning pink when she starts to tease him that he actually *does* like the new boy band song. 

girldad!joel putting the little WORLD'S BEST DAD trophy keychain Sarah bought him at the school Christmas store on his keys.

girldad!joel nervously stammering through asking Sarah if she needs any “uh… pads or… hmm… tampons” before he leaves for the store feeling slightly embarrassed at how she rolls her eyes at his embarrassment and tells him she’s good. 

girldad!joel eating all of the marshmallows Sarah burns before she toasts the perfect one for her smore. 

girldad!joel waking up on Saturday morning exhausted from a long week of work guzzling coffee down while he helps Sarah get ready for her soccer game. 

girldad!joel looking up from all of his invoices and complimenting Sarah’s newest colored coloring page while they sit at the dining room table. 

girldad!joel helping Sarah learn to ride her bike, which she easily learns. He takes a giant breath when he watches her pedal away without his help. She’s getting so big.

girldad!joel folding laundry on the couch while watching the Rangers game, he gets a little emotional thinking about how much bigger Sarah’s clothes are now. He fondly remembers folding her onesies and pajamas when he was just an overwhelmed single father of a baby.

girldad!joel wearing the BEST FLIPPIN’ DAD apron Sarah bought him while preparing Thanksgiving dinner for her and Tommy. Boxed mashed potatoes, Stove Top stuffing, jarred gravy, canned cranberries, canned yams with lots of marshmallows on top, Jiffy cornbread, and a turkey that might be a little too dry. Sarah thinks all of it is delicious and saves extra room for grocery store bakery baked pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream. 

girldad!joel stuffing Easter eggs with candy and coins and hiding them all over the house while Sarah sleeps. He cheekily acts shocked when she finds the hidden golden egg with $5 stuffed inside. “Wow baby girl! That’s a lot of money!” 

girldad!joel swearing to himself while putting together a Barbie Dream House for Sarah’s birthday. His frustration grows when part 3C won’t plug into wall 4A. 

girldad!joel dropping Sarah off at Uncle Tommy’s for a sleepover before his first actual date in ten years. Tommy wishes him good luck as he grabs Sarah’s pink backpack from him, Joel can tell his brother’s nervous for him. He’s nervous as hell too. 

girldad!joel shyly letting you know that he has a young daughter, hoping you don’t run away because he really likes you. His heart beats rapidly when you give him a warm smile and ask about her. 

girldad!joel taking Sarah out for ice cream, both of them sitting on the tailgate of his truck. He sucks in a bracing breath before telling her how he’s met somebody who he really likes. She turns, mint chocolate chip green all over her mouth and smiles a wide grin telling him how excited she is and that finally he found someone who could deal with him. 

Also, imagine Joel listening to "Robin" by Taylor Swift. You got the dragonflies above your bed You have a favorite spot on the swing set You have no room in your dreams for regrets You have no idea The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness

[iamyoursonly]

Childhood Best Friend (16/07/2024)

turns out my bakugo obsession wasn’t over so i’m writing him to feed my delusions because I saw this one line on tumblr and I had to write a whole story about it; i wrote this at 2 AM so it’s not the most creative hehe but bear with me

1.5k words — unedited

The thought of having a childhood best friend that you can keep in contact with really drives me insane, not in a bad way though, because it’s the kind of friendship that I crave. I have no idea how much time both parties dedicate to each other to maintain a relationship for this long, and I might be jealous of some of my friends because they have this and mine isn’t as ideal as I hope it was.

“Katsu?” My five-year-old self say, “Would you marry me when we grow up?”

The crimson eyed boy looked at me, holding out that ring pop he’s been eating for a while now and basically finished, “If you’ll have me that is.”

According to his mom, I went around kindergarten holding his hand and calling him “my husband katsu” for a while, and he was always around to protect me when kids doubted what I said. He’d beat them up or threaten them with his explosions saying, “You’re all just jealous that you’re not her, but too bad she’s my wife now so piss off.”

I was always around him and he was always around me, we were literally stuck to the bone.

“Katsu, someone told me I was ugly is that true?” I cried in his arms for the first time when I was six, and he rubbed my head and let me cry it out.

“Whoever told you that must have no taste, you’re breathtaking.” He says.

“What does ‘breaktaking’ mean?” I say.

“Breathtaking. It means you’re so pretty you take someone’s breath away.” He smiles, “I’m also beating them up for putting this nonsense in your head. No one messes with my wife.”

“Don’t beat them up though, please?” I look at him, and his rubs my head and nod.

This all disappeared when I had to leave to move away because my parents found a better job. I held onto his hand and begged my parents to let me stay with him and his family, he also begged, claiming he doesn’t want to be apart from “his wife”.

“Don’t forget me, Katsu.” I start sobbing, “I really don’t want to leave.”

“Can’t you stay?” He asks, red staining his eyes because of the crying he has been doing.

“I can’t, they’re not letting me.” I hold his hand harder, “Promise we’ll meet again?”

“Let’s become heroes together. I’ll become number one and you’ll be alongside me.” He squeezes my hand back. “Let’s meet at UA.”

“Promise?” I ask.

“Promise.”

We pinky promised before my parents shoved me into the car and drove away.

“Hit harder, you’re not doing it right!” My coach screams at me. “Okay, take a break you’re not thinking.”

I sit on the ground, stripping off my boxing gear then throwing them to the ground, “Fuck.” How am I going to be good enough to catch up to him? He’s gifted, hardworking and talented. It’s not possible to be on the same level as him without training harder, and I’m not even hitting right…

“I’m done, let me do it again!” I say to my coach, who’s wiping the pads I’ve been hitting. She smiles and signals me to start. I throw I few punches at her, then a few kicks, and some more punches. “That’s the spirit, young lady!” She says as I throw more kicks at her.

“Good work today,” She pats my shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

I smile at her before packing my bags and leaving, stretching a bit before I take a taxi home to revise for tomorrow morning’s tests. I take out the small notebook I keep in my bag and start memorizing some main points from the book, “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” I whisper.

I manage to get a taxi, I get in and sit down and continue studying. After a while, I look out of the window, slowly rolling down the glass after getting the driver’s permission. Feeling the night air against my face, I start to feel home sick. It’s been ten years since I left Japan, and I’ve been doing everything he would just so I can get in UA. And I miss him so much.

“Congratulations! You’re accepted into UA high school, we’re looking forward to seeing you on our first day!“

I scream at this news before telling my parents and they were overjoyed also. They willingly bought me plane tickets back to Japan and even called Katsuki’s family to have them take care of me for the mean time, in which they agreed to. And all I could think about that night was how happy he would be when he sees me again.

He was not happy, at least I don’t think he is. He has this scowl over his face and he’s gotten so tall and buff since ten years ago.

“You’re that loser girl I hung out with? I literally have no fuckin’ memory of you since you’re so fuckin’ insignificant to me.”

Wow. He’s definitely changed so much.

“Katsu, I kept my promise, I got into UA and now I’m back.” I say.

“So? What do you want me to say? Congrats? Yeah no shit, everyone craves validation when it comes to me.” He says, “Congrats loser, for making the bare minimum to get in like it’s fuckin’ challenging.”

Okay he’s just rude now, where was that sweet old Katsuki I missed. So I just rolled my eyes at him and went to their guest room to settle down. In which Mitsuki welcomed me with a whole party that Katsuki was not happy about.

New school year, new me. I wear my UA uniform, ready for a new school year with more fun and joy every year. Until some weird guy stopped me and Katsuki on our way to school.

“Hey girlie, you look so fine you should be called mine. Wanna go out with me?” He winks, and I cringed at him. Katsuki full on glared at him, looking pissed.

“She doesn’t wanna fuckin’ go out with you, why would she downgrade herself for a fucker like you?” Katsuki grabbed my hand and started leaving.

He told him off for me. He cares.

“Why are you even helping that whore?” That weirdo asked Katsuki, and he glared daggers into him.

“No one can say that to her when I’m around, say that again and you’ll lose your dick.” Katsuki threatens him again and wraps his arms around my waist.

He turns to me, his face so close to mine before he says, “Let’s go.”

Since when was his face so masculine and defined. He definitely had a big glow up because how could one be so breathtaking?

“Katsu.” I say, “What was that for? Thought you hated me.”

“Still do, but only I can degrade you.” He answers.

“Possessive much?” I joke, but I could feel his grip on my waist tighten. So I just shut up and walk with him.

When we got home that day, Mitsuki made us fried chicken and some extra spicy mapo tofu (katsu’s favourite).

“Remember when the two of you got married when you were five? Katsuki gave you his ring pop after you asked him if he’d marry you and he said something like ‘if you’ll have me’? Oh goodness I remember it like it was yesterday.” She chuckled with her husband as Katsuki and I stared at each other awkwardly.

“Shut up you old hag.” Katsuki says, his ears red, “I’m going back to my room.”

Before he leaves the table, he drags me with him and we enter his room before he locks the door.

“So,” He starts, “What now?”

I look at him, “You dragged me in, you tell me.”

“It’s nothing I just needed a break from them.” He shrugged, “It’s not like I’m fuckin’ embarrassed of us or anything.”

There was a moment of loud silence.

“Katsu,” I break the awkwardness, “Can we like start again?”

“Like what, pretend that you never left me?” He says, his tone sounded like he’s hurt.

“I didn’t want to, and you know it.” I look him in the eye, and he keeps the eye contact.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much and now you’re here,” He puts his head on my shoulder, basically whispering into my ear, “I hate how you’re my weak spot and how I can’t properly get over you even though we were basically children.”

“Katsuki, listen.” I hold his face and he’s so close to me I could feel his breath on my face.

“Yeah?” He looks at me, features softening.

“Be my boyfriend, Katsuki.” I murmured softly, “For real this time. I swear the only person I’ve loved is you.”

He laughed out loud, “Thought we were married all along, wifey.”

I hug him tight and he speaks, “Don’t leave me again okay?”

“Promise.” I chuckled, “Also you need to get me another ring, I might have left the ring pop with my family.”

“You silly bitch. You’re lucky I love you.” He gently smacks me.

“And I love you too.” I smile.

…“And now, I pronounce the two of you husband and wife.”

Maybe this childhood best friend thing that I had wasn’t that bad either, seeing how we have two children together right now makes me smile at our memories together as a child. My breathtaking childhood best friend and the pro hero Dynamight that I could call my husband until the end of time.

[neoplatinum]

we can't be friends - ariana grande | minatozaki sana

summary: the earth only has one moon, are you really the moon to sana's earth?

pairing: childhood-friend!sana x fem!reader

themes: extremely angsty, best friends to ?? to ??, internalized homophobia, gender dysphoria, sana's not too great of a friend, reader is a pushover until she isn't, implied sex, original male character, [----] x reader

wc: 3.2k

(side b: north and south poles | minatozaki sana)

from what you've learned in school, at the very early age of kindergarten is that the earth only has one moon, only one. mars has two moons: phobos and deimos.

when you were kids, you were called deimos, sana was called mars, and fuji was called phobos. it was always you three together, running through the streets of the countryside of japan.

causing so much trouble for your administrators, running around yelling down the halls of your school, the terrible trio of class 2-A. leaving school was always fun too, running around for snacks and jumping at the sight of cats.

you and sana were always closer, whenever fuji had to go home early because of his strict extracurriculars, you spent time with sana. walking by the train tracks, looking for lost coins for the vending machine or even staying for dinner with sana’s parents. it felt like it was you three taking on the small town.

until it didn’t. when middle school rolled around, you were excited to see them two after a couple of weeks of summer. each of you was busy with other things in life, making it hard to meet each other. so on the first day of school, you strolled in, ready to take on the new school year with sana and fuji by your side, when you noticed they weren’t talking much to each other.

fuji found basketball friends in his group, clinging to them like they were his new lifeline. sana has gotten close to the popular girls, they were nice but very superficial, all having drama with each other but in front of the group, they all faked smiles for each other.

you found yourself in between two different worlds, you tried calling to them after school, but they both dismissed you saying they had extracurriculars. fuji had gone off to play with his friends during basketball practice, while sana participated in school government association.

you got tricked into becoming treasurer for the sga that very year, so it was nice to still be around sana. although you could feel her distance.

it isn’t until one spring afternoon, you feel your first ever heartbreak. sana rushes into the sga room while you were napping on a desk.

she taps your shoulder excitedly, “wake up!”

you rub your eyes and focus on sana, who’s shoving a letter in your hand. you read the first line and yeah, your heart is crushed.

“fuji confessed to me!” she shouts excitedly, doing a little dance by herself as you read the lines.

“oh, congrats.” you hand the letter back to her, she looks at you a bit puzzled by your simple reaction.

“he asked me out! im so excited.” she explains, going into detail about their supposed first date. “he might kiss me, what do you think?”

“if you want to kiss him, then kiss him.”

she rolls her eyes at that, of course she knows that. that’s not what she’s implying.

“what i mean is, i’ve never had my first kiss! i don’t know what to do.” she goes on, thinking about it seriously. “what if he kisses me, and i suck and he doesn’t want to kiss me.”

“sana, if he thinks you being a bad first kisser is a deal breaker then dump him.”

you explain, placing your head back on your arms.

“you have to help me!”

“help?”

“kiss me, pretend you’re fuji.”

“no way sana.”

“why? too much of a chicken to kiss me?”

“no im not!”

"bawk bawk bawk" sana mocks you. making flapping arm motions to imitate a chicken.

“fine!” you hold yourself together (as much as you can) and place your lips gently against sana, pulling her in by the neck. caressing her cheek before letting her go. her eyes are dazed.

“wow yeah, that was good.” she fiddles with her school skirt, “i wish you were a boy, you’d make a girl very happy kissing her like that.” she blushes and leaves you alone, you feel that jagged break in your heart tear a little longer.

your tears don't stop as you try and go back to taking a nap, feeling your breathing getting heavy and you stay the rest of the afternoon, crying about not being born a guy for sana.

--

that was the last time you really talked to sana, too hurt that you cut your hair short the next day in the bathroom sink. crying tears into the porcelain bowl, with tears filling around your choppy hair. when you finally stop, you try liking the idea of it being short like a boys. but sana doesn’t spare you a glance. suddenly the hair feels too choppy and the air that you didn't feel when your hair was long starts to bother you.

it doesn't bother you for long, once your hair grows back. it feels right, like you were meant to look this pretty and feminine. you stay away from both sana and fuji as much as you can.

until one day sana knocks rapidly at your door, you haven't had her over in years. high school created even more distance between you two, you found your own people to be around. people that never overlapped with sana and fuji.

--

until you see sana staring at you from across the door, eyes still sparkling as they always have, in that charming look. and the longer face, the warm smile and comforting scent of flowers. as much she is the sana you remember, you don't think she's the same sana you once knew.

"hi."

"hi sana, are you okay?" you let her in. and it's like you're transported back to when you were thirteen, letting sana come over whenever she needed to complain about fuji and his "boy" tendencies. now that you're both 18 and ready to set off into the real world, you feel a little strange having sana visit.

"yeah, i need your help." she starts, dropping her bag onto the floor. you feel your heart rate spike a bit, was sana in trouble?

"help with what?" you offer her a bottle of her favorite drink, royal milk tea.

"you remembered." she says softly, grabbing it and downing it in a few quick seconds, a sign she's nervous and with the tapping of her foot. you're feeling anxious just at the sight. "fuji asked to have sex."

you nearly spit out your own water, "what?" your eyes are wide and you stare at sana as she keeps her eyes away from you.

"i need your help."

"did he do something sana? i'll kill him myself." you get up.

"no, none of that. i want to, have sex i mean. i just can't with him first."

"why not?"

"well, i...i want my first time to not be him. i just know it in my heart."

"okay. so how am i supposed to help you?"

"be my first."

"sana! you can't ask that of me."

"why not? we're best friends, of course we can."

"sana no, you love fuji, he should be your first if you love him. you're dating him too, that would be cheating."

"i dont, i dont think, i just." she shakes her head. "it can't be with him first." she ends it softly, hands in her lap. looking like she's been scolded. you feel the guilt bubbling up in your stomach; here she was being vulnerable, and you just accused her of being a cheater.

"what's really going on?" you ask, she's not making sense anymore.

"i need you to be my first, i want you to be. it can't be anyone else." sana is firm. standing up and taking your hands in hers. with her eyes looking into yours like that, like she knows how much you love and adore her. you can't find yourself to say no, even if it betrays fuji.

"okay."

"yeah?" her eyes light up.

"yeah." you pull sana upstairs, and begging her to forget about fuji, just for one night. to only focus on you and to pull out those pretty sounds of sana uttering your name into the night.

you don't stop until you feel sana against you, like it's where she belongs, right in your arms.

--

when sana leaves in the morning, you feel that gash that you've been trying so hard to heal get ripped apart again. she thanks you like you're someone who was there to provide a service to her, like that's the only purpose you served her that night.

as if you didn't pour your heart out as you kissed down her torso, cherishing her body like the gods sculpted it. as if she isn't the only woman in the world, you begin to think maybe that's what you were made for. someone to exist for sana, and never with her.

this hurtful thought bumps around your brain, hitting every surface of it, you feel your heart break into two. like you're led on a leash by sana, without her letting you ever leave.

it becomes a habit, a habit you can't break. you circling between the sana and fuji whenever it was the holidays or birthday parties. each year you feel more and more of your soul slip away. you can't begin to tell where your identity begins and ends without sana.

doesn't help that fuji is a good man for sana. always considerate and careful, giving her the space and time she needs when she's overwhelmed. you think sana chose well, a good man in her life that'll never waver his loyalty for her.

but it leaves you in disarray, sana contacting you for her relationship problems. leaving fuji all alone as she calls you to escape. weeks spent away from fuji, where you two meet hidden away from the world. a hidden place filled with drunk kisses and hookups, ones you would never utter to fuji.

you being invited at her parties, seeing his arms draped around her like you weren't caressing them just days ago. it's all too much, you don't know if you can be friends with her. ever again.

until she marries fuji, she hands you their invitation card herself. how dare she? after years of being a secret she hands you a knife for you to stab into your heart, and she does it with a smile. explaining how happy she is to have the wedding of her dreams, while you feel the woman of your dreams slip right through your fingers.

but then the reality hits, she was never yours to begin with, you two are simply friends. just best friends that know each other's bodies too well.

you play your part well, giving a dedicated speech to them two. reminiscing of the early days of you as a trio. days of mischief, talking about learning of their feelings for each other, making jokes about how they were polar opposites, destined to find each other magnetically. you leave out the part where you think you would fit well with sana even if you aren't the opposing magnet.

you try and stay away from her as much as you can after the wedding, to save your own heart (as much there is left). blocking her number and taking time away from japan. going overseas to travel, and it works out well, you meet a woman named momo, you don't mention the woman to sana. you don't hear from sana and you feel your heart calm a bit, like it's finally able to take a break.

when you return to japan, you find her at your doorsteps, fallen asleep at your door. she wakes up to the sight of you and hugs you immediately, complaining about how worried she was that you disappeared. you don't mention how you blocked her number. letting sana into your apartment and she drops the biggest news on you that you could ever expect: shes pregnant.

"congratulations sana!" you fake a smile and she goes on to explain that it's going to be a little girl. and she's so excited to dress her up and have a daughter.

you feel like you're hearing static noise as she goes on, sitting on your couch talking animatedly about the new nursery and all the books she's been reading about motherhood. it isn't until she finally steps away to go home that you realize that you never said more than congratulations.

--

months later, she births the beautiful baby girl. you wait outside the room, a balloon in one hand and a pack of diapers in the other. the nerves of having to see sana after so long made you vomit in the hospital bathroom just ten minutes ago. you try to focus on anything else, the sterile walls, the smell of sanitizer, the sounds of nurses chatting. then you see fuji step outside, looking like a tired first-time father.

"congratulations fuji!" you say as you pass him the diapers. he laughs at the sight and thanks you before saying he's going outside to get some food and that sana is awake.

you step into the hospital room and hear the rhythmic heart monitor and low beeps of machines. there sana is, exhausted as ever but happily babbling to her baby. you can see the little baby in the swaddle. you walk up to the bedside.

"hi sana, congratulations on your new baby." you tie the balloon to her bed, and she smiles at you, tired but always warm. "she's beautiful, sana." you wash your hands and poke at her cheek.

"isn't she? i think it's too early to say, but she might have my eyes." you look back down and see the baby, eyes closed in bliss. you think they look like sana's too. ones that you used to look at as kids.

"i want to name her after you." she starts, gently caressing her head. you stop, leaning back quickly.

“dont do that sana, don’t give it the same curse you gave me.” you bite out. sana stops caressing the baby's face to look at you. “forced to love someone who will never love them back.”

"what are you talking about?" sana says gently, you've never raised your voice at her in all the years you've known each other.

"sana, you can't give her my name. i forbid you to." you say sternly; after how much she destroyed you, you're not letting her name her daughter that.

"but, why?" she's still perplexed, eyes wide.

"it's not right." you look away from sana, years of pain resurfacing just at the idea. "you really hurt me, i don't want you to name your daughter after me."

she doesn't press you on the matter anymore, anxious eyes darting all over the room, trying to find an escape from this conversation.

"what about being her godmother?"

"i'm moving away sana."

it's like the final nail in the coffin, both phrases being said at the same time. you realize there's no other way to say it, not over text or a call. it's better to say it here, ripping off the bandaid completely.

"moving? where are you moving?" you can hear the heartbeat machine beeping faster, and you see her heart rate climbing steadily.

"korea, i got a job over there." you say dismissively.

"oh wow, when do you move?" sana's voice is timid as she tries to hold back tears at the idea.

"i leave in a week." you say, picking your stuff up getting ready to leave. "congratulations again sana, your baby is beautiful and healthy. tell fuji that he'll be a good father, i know it." and with that you step to leave, and just as you turn the knob you can hear it, the sound of sana crying.

you try not to cry yourself, but you can't stay here. orbiting around two people who are building their life together. you weren't supposed to be here to begin with. earth never had two moons. you nearly bump into fuji when he opens the door.

"oh fuji, i'm sorry i couldn't stay long." you offer when you see him outside, food in hand and excited to talk to you, he smiles sadly. giving you a hug as you walk outside.

feeling like for once you control your own life, your love is yours, and no longer sana's.

"stay a while longer, sana is so excited to see you!" he says, trying to urge you to come back inside.

"it's okay, we'll see each other around." you turn to look back at sana, and she stares right into you with tears running down her face and glaring at you. you just told your final lie to sana, closing the door behind them, like you closed your relationship with sana.

--

you don't see sana for years; it's strange. growing up with so much hurt and pain made it difficult to enjoy your romantic relationships, but you realize there is always a person for you, yours being hirai momo, not sana minatozaki.

here at incheon international airport, you stretch from your seat, needing to get some movement in before you sit in that cramped airplane seat for hours. so you make a beeline to the bathroom, walking directly into a young girl.

she falls backwards, nearly hitting her head on the floor, but you catch her in time.

"hi sweetie you okay?" you pat her down, pulling her shirt down. she nods at you and you see her eyes, and you feel your memories shift back to when you were five years old, meeting that girl that sat near you in class 2-A. she runs towards someone.

you stand up and recognize those eyes immediately, sana minatozaki in the flesh after five years. eyes wide as she stares at you. fuji right by her side.

you can see the recognition in sana's eyes. you walk right up to them, offering the couple a hug. sana's arms grip onto you so tightly you feel your ribs in her hold. then you feel a tug at your pant leg.

you turn around and smile at the girl by your leg.

"say hi hana, this is sana and fuji." your little girl waves to them hi, while sana is still staring at you. fuji starts congratulating you, excited to see that you have a daughter. you let out a laugh. then you feel a pat on your back, with momo walking up to kiss you.

then you let your daughter down to play with sana's daughter. eyes fond at the two little girls chasing after each other.

“it’s been a while.” sana's voice cuts into your thinking.

“yeah, i guess it has.” you reply, finally looking at her after so long. sana gulps, willing the tears away.

"honey, you’re crying.” fuji says wiping away sana's tear, you smile at that. he's good for her.

“oh i didn't notice.” sana laughs, rapidly wiping her tears away.

you let the three of them talk, momo joining in and introducing herself. you're left feeling a bit better about your decision to leave sana's side all those years ago. waiting for her to love you back would've costed your relationship with momo, especially since you would have never had hana.

it's important to know when being friends turns into we can't be friends anymore.

--

a/n: hehehehehe, angst is so fun to write, that's probably why it's everywhere in my writing. thank you to the anon who requested this! i wrote this in like 6hrs. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[starkwlkr]

can u make an imagine where Noah is graduating pre-k or something and the whole family would be there like imagine proud dad max 😍😍😍

and a little family interaction between reader max and Noah 🥲❤️

oh, the places you’ll go | max verstappen

You, Max, his mother and sister were in the assembly hall of Noah’s school. It was his graduation from pre-kindergarten and you were holding back tears. Your baby was growing up. The ceremony was going to start soon and Max was getting his phone ready to film and take pictures.

“Do you think he will see us? Maybe we should change seats, there’s some empty ones up there.” Max wondered since they were seated right in the middle.

“It’s fine, Max. I let him know where we are sitting. I’m sure when Noah is on stage you’ll stand up and yell his name so yeah i am positive he will see us.” You chuckled. Then Noah’s teacher came out with a microphone to let everyone know the ceremony was starting.

“Please welcome our graduates!” The teacher announced as music started to play while the line of kids started coming in to the assembly hall.

The kids were lined up by their last name so Noah was near the end, but that didn’t bother him. He was happy since he was next to a friend of his. As he walked towards the stage, Noah kept looking for his family. He then spotted his father waving his hand so Noah could spot him.

“Look! That’s my dad!” Noah told his friend. Noah then waved back to Max.

“He saw me!” Max smiled brightly.

Finally, all the kids were on stage in their little plastic chairs facing the audience. After everyone was seated, Noah’s teacher, Ms. Dutton, have a speech about how proud she was of the kids. She then announced that each kids would come up to the microphone and say what they wanted to be when they were older.

Many of Noah’s classmates said the common careers like astronaut, teacher etc. When it was Noah’s turn, you got ready with your phone to take a video. Noah had told you what he wanted to be and you knew that you needed to record Max’s reaction to your son’s answer.

“Noah, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“When I grow up I want to be the team principal of Red Bull so my dad can win more races and be world champion a lot of times.”

Laughter erupted from the audience, many parents knew who Noah’s dad was so they thought it was funny. Max laughed as well loving the answer. He didn’t even notice you were recording his reaction.

“He’s going place.” Max said while clapping for his son.

“Another Verstappen in Formula 1!” Sophie laughed.

After every kid said their answers, it was time for them to receive their diplomas. Now it was Max’s turn to be the photographer. He made sure to get the right angle when it was Noah’s turn.

“Noah Verstappen.” Ms. Dutton said as the Verstappen family clapped and cheered for Noah.

“Hi dad!” Noah waved to Max from the stage. Max waved back then continued to take several pictures of Noah being handed his diploma. His phone was pretty much pictures of Noah anyway.

After the ceremony, you all went to pick up Noah at his classroom. When you arrived, you found him sitting at his regular seat with his friend playing with toy cars. It took him a second to realize his family had arrived, but when he spotted you, he ran towards you and Max.

“My beautiful boy just graduated! I’m so proud of you, Noah.” You picked him up and showered him with kisses then set him down.

“Congratulations Noah!” Sophie hugged her grandson. “Are you going to help your dad win more championships?”

“Yes! And he’s going to win a lot!”

“Watch out, everyone, another Verstappen is coming to the paddock.” Victoria teased.

“Dad did you see me?” Noah asked as Max picked him up.

“I did! Did you see me?”

“Yeah, I heard you so many times and I told my friend that you were my dad and he said that he likes your car because it goes so fast.” Noah explained.

Noah then decided to show his dad around the classroom and show him some of his work that was stapled to the cork board while you chatted with Sophie and Victoria. Max payed close attention to everything Noah was telling him even if half of it didn’t make sense, he still listened. Noah then showed him a drawing that he made of Max, you and him with his car.

“This is you and mommy and me and your car.” Noah pointed out. “You don’t have your trophy because you didn’t win it yet.” Max assumed it was a drawing of them from Abu Dhabi 2021 before the race started.

“It’s beautiful, Noah. I’m going to take a picture of it so I can show everyone in the paddock.” Max them took his phone out and took several pictures.

From where you stood, you watched your boys. It was too adorable seeing Max with Noah. You knew that Noah would be loved and protected by Max everyday. You thank your lucky stars everyday that Max came into your life.

[drabbles-mc]

Out of Practice

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

For the Alternate June-iverse prompt: milf/dilf

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, steamy things, reader is a mom, bucky hasn't dated in like 70 years

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: I had no idea what I was going to do for this prompt for the longest time but then tonight this all fell outta me in one sitting lmao. enjoy some cameos from Sam and Tony! And thanks again to @buckybarnesevents and @rookthorne for putting this event together 💖

MCU Taglist: @garbinge @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Bucky was standing at the bottom of the walkway that led to the main doors of the school. Despite the warmth that came from the late spring weather, he still had on his leather jacket and gloves. He was far from the only person standing out and waiting for the final bell to ring, but he still felt like he stood out. No matter how much time went by that was a feeling he had yet to shake.

He pried his eyes off the cracked concrete beneath his boots when the bell rang, shortly followed by the front doors of the school being pushed open by dozens upon dozens of kids desperate to get out and head home. Many of them were sprinting off towards the buses, but some were making a direct line right where Bucky was standing with the rest of the parents and other family members. He kept his eyes peeled, but he still didn’t see who he was looking for.

A couple minutes ticked by and for a moment he wondered if he had shown up at the wrong place, or on the wrong day. He was about to take his phone out of his pocket when the front door opened up again. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw Morgan walking out, jacket tied around her waist and backpack settled on her shoulders. She was looking up at the woman next to her, the two of them talking as the woman balanced a child who looked like she was just barely old enough to be in kindergarten on her hip.

When Morgan looked away, she immediately saw Bucky. A smile broke out across her face as she threw a hand up to wave, an expression and gesture that he returned. He took a few steps so that he met her right where the walkways met. She walked right up to him, holding both hands out in closed fists. Bucky’s grin widened slightly as he held his fists out as well, tapping their knuckles together before the both pulled their hands back, making an exploding sound and gesture as they did.

Once they completed their ritual, Bucky turned his attention to you. You were smiling at the sight of the two of them, but he could see the questioning look still lingering in your eyes. “You must be Uncle Bucky, then?” you asked, although the answer seemed fairly obvious.

He chuckled, looking briefly at Morgan before he returned his attention back to you. “Yeah, but just Bucky is fine.”

He held out his hand for you to shake, and you did so carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping child on your hip as you gave him your name in return. “Hope you don’t mind me bringing her out.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Just like to make sure that everything’s alright when someone new is picking up one of my students.”

“I tried to tell her you weren’t new,” Morgan interjected, her sarcasm making her sound so much like her father despite only being nine years old.

You shook your head with a knowing smile. “New to me, then,” you corrected.

“It’s fine,” Bucky said with a small shake of his head. “I get it.”

“I appreciate that.” You looked back and forth between the two of them, an odd but fitting pair. “I’ll let you two go. It was nice to meet you, Bucky.” You shifted your gaze to the young girl standing beside him. “And I will see you on Monday, Miss Morgan.”

Morgan was already saying goodbye and turning to head off towards Bucky’s care by the time the words left your mouth. Bucky, however, was still staring at you, looking at the way you were balancing the little girl on one hip while you had her backpack on the opposite shoulder, your own bag hanging in the crook of your arm. He knew that this was probably far from the first time you left the school building with your hands full but he still felt like it was wrong to not at least offer to help.

“Do you need help with—”

“I’ve got it,” you reassured him with a smile, taking a step towards the parking lot, “but thank you.”

He didn’t try to offer again, taking your word for what it was worth. Turning, he easily collapsed the distance between himself and Morgan in one stride, and the two of them started walking off towards his car. You heard the two of them talking as they walked away. Or, rather, you heard Morgan talking about her day and Bucky chiming in with a word of acknowledgment. You cast a couple brief looks at them as you walked over to your car, smiling at the sight of them.

You returned your focus to the task at hand as you tried to get your daughter into her booster seat in the back of your car. You weren’t too worried, since she had luckily been a heavy sleeper ever since she was born, but you still tried to be extra careful. You were clicking her seatbelt into place when you heard Bucky’s car engine rumbling to life.

You caught a glimpse through your own car’s windshield as they drove by, Morgan sitting behind the empty passenger seat of Bucky’s car. They were out of you line of sight as quickly as they’d entered it. When they were gone again you set both your bag and your daughter’s on the floor by her feet.

~*~

“Ew, no,” Morgan said as she shook her head, her and Bucky looking at each other through the rearview mirror, “he’s gross. All the boys in my grade are.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Your dad will be happy to hear that.”

“I don’t even want a boyfriend.”

Bucky fought to the urge to give his knee-jerk response which would’ve been, “Well, yeah, you’re fucking nine.” Instead, he asked, “You tell him that?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “He went and asked Chrissy instead.”

“Worked out for you,” Bucky said, throwing his directional on before turning onto the main road away from the school. “You don’t need a boyfriend—you’re fine.”

“Dad says that you need a girlfriend.”

Bucky nearly choking on the breath he was pulling in. His eyes drifted from the road and back to the mirror to look at her. “What?”

“What?” she parroted back to him, blissfully unaware of why he reacted that way. “That’s what he said.”

Bucky was shaking his head, gaze fixed back on the road once more. “Yeah? Well your dad’s a—”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” she asked.

Bucky chuckled, a genuine sound. “Ever? Yeah.”

“This century?”

His eyebrows raised, surprised but also not. “You gotta stop listening to your dad all the time.”

A wide grin blossomed across her face. “But have you?”

He shook his head. “I thought we were cool,” he said sarcastically.

Morgan laughed hard enough at that to usher them into another topic of conversation with the rest of the drive home. Bucky went the long way, swinging through McDonald’s on the way since he was told that was fine this time around. It killed a little more time anyway, which was really what he needed. The only reason that he has the one enlisted to go and pick Morgan up in the first place was because Tony and Pepper were both running late with work. Not terribly so, but late enough that they didn’t want to ask her teacher to stay and wait.

Even with the extra stop planned in, and the most scenic route as possible taken, it still didn’t take them very long to get home. Before either of them could think much of it Bucky was rolling into Tony and Pepper’s driveway.

Bucky had just put the car in park when Morgan jumped out of the car, backpack strap in one hand and happy meal in the other. Bucky shook his head at her, laughing as he got out of the car much slower than she had. He finally felt comfortable enough to take off his gloves, tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans as he walked towards Tony’s porch.

Morgan had left the door opened behind her, so Bucky walked through and closed it as he did. When he looked around the room he saw that Morgan had already made her way over to her father and gotten swept off the ground in a hug.

As Tony was setting her back down on the floor, he asked, “You got some extra fries for me, right?”

Morgan laughed. “No way.”

Tony faked deep offense at her response. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

Bucky piped in. “I didn’t get you any either, for the record.”

Tony smirked. “That much I expected.”

Morgan looked around the room a little more, and when she didn’t see Pepper, she asked, “Where’s Mom?”

Tony gestured deeper into the house. “She’s out back.”

Morgan tossed both her backpack and her McDonald’s box of food onto the counter. “I’m gonna go say hi!” She pointed at Tony. “Don’t eat my fries.” She turned and pointed at Bucky. “Don’t let him eat my fries.”

Bucky gave a small salute. “Yes ma’am.”

When Morgan had scampered out of the room, Tony’s full attention shifted to Bucky. “Thanks for picking her up—I know it was short-notice.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Went okay?”

He nodded. “Teacher came out to make sure I wasn’t some kidnapper, but yeah, it went okay.”

Tony chuckled as he opened the fridge. “Figured she would.” He grabbed a beer for himself and offered one to Bucky, when he declined he shrugged with a suit yourself expression and let the door fall shut.

“Why’s your nine-year-old telling me I need to get a girlfriend?” Bucky asked as he watched Tony pop the cap off the bottle.

Tony didn’t miss a beat. “My guess is because you need to get a girlfriend.”

“Tony—”

“You met her teacher then, right?” Tony shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “She’s single. And cu—”

Bucky’s tone shifted drastically as he repeated himself. “Tony.”

The hand that wasn’t holding the beer bottle was held up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying.”

“That why you sent me to pick her up? Is Happy even busy?”

Tony laughed. “Like Happy would ever be too busy to get Morgan from school.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh my fuc—”

“Watch it.” Tony lifted the hand he was holding the bottle with, pointing accusingly at him. “There are little ears in the house.”

Bucky sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t need you playing matchmaker.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the smooth dark stone-top of the island. “And I definitely don’t need you roping in your nine-year-old to help.”

“I actually didn’t tell her to say anything to you.”

“I don’t need you talking to her about my love life at all.”

“I was talking to Pepper about it. But hey,” he took another sip, “little ears hear everything.”

He watched as Bucky chuckled in disbelief. Tony knew that it wasn’t his place to say or do anything, that out of everyone he was probably close to the bottom of the list when it came to people who had the right to give dating advice. Even with that being the case, though, Tony had been watching Bucky muddle through and get along without ever really learning to get close to anyone since everything happened with Steve. He was gone now, and while Bucky might’ve accepted that, he still hadn’t really made any moves to let new people in. A girlfriend wouldn’t solve all of those issues, as Pepper had swiftly told him. But it probably also wouldn’t hurt, as Tony had told her in response.

“Gonna make me go to parent-teacher night next?” Bucky asked, his tone light enough to let Tony know that it wasn’t going to turn into an argument for the time being.

“Don’t be ridiculous—you’re not ready for anything more than an open house.”

He scoffed out a laugh. “Thanks.”

They both had plenty more comments to make about the topic but they let it drop as Morgan re-entered the room, Pepper in tow right behind her. Bucky and Tony exchanged a knowing look, one that confirmed that their conversation as on hold for now. Pepper caught it, but knew enough to know not to ask. Instead, she started a new conversation by thanking Bucky for picking Morgan up. He stayed long enough to make a little small talk before excusing himself, making sure to give Morgan another double fist-bump before heading for the door.

“I’ll walk you out,” Tony said, leaving his half-empty beer bottle on the counter.

Bucky knew exactly what Tony was doing, but didn’t say anything. The two of them slipped out the door, and Tony followed him down off the porch and all the way to his car.

When he realized that Bucky wasn’t going to say anything about any of it, he spoke up himself. “I could probably get her number for you.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? You don’t think she’s—”

“That has nothing to do with it and you know it,” Bucky cut him off. “Just leave it alone, Tony.”

“Mmm.” He shook his head. “Don’t think I can do that. Matter of national security at this point—you’re left unattended an awful lot.”

“And you think I need an elementary teacher to keep me company?”

“She knows how to wrangle kids and keep ‘em in line—sounds perfect for you.”

“Don’t say anything to her.”

Tony stared at Bucky for a long, hard minute. “Fine.”

Bucky didn’t believe it for a second but be also knew that continuing to argue about it wasn’t going to fix anything either. “Thanks.”

They exchanged a quick handshake and a brief goodbye, and soon enough, Bucky was on his way. The drive back to his apartment felt longer than usual, his thoughts wandering in the silence of the car since he didn’t make any move to turn the radio on. He thought about you, not that he would ever give Tony the satisfaction of knowing that, the way you smiled as you balanced your daughter on your hip. He thought about the apparent ease there was between you and Morgan. He thought about your dress and the way it fell just above your knees, the way the bright colors looked so nice and seemed so fitting.

Then he shook his head to dispel the thoughts. Tony was just in his head now, having him overthink about a woman he’d met for all of two minutes. The likelihood of him seeing you again wasn’t very high, not unless Tony started asking him to play chauffer for Morgan a lot more often, and somehow he didn’t really see that happening.

When he walked into his apartment, Bucky was immediately greeted by Alpine running up and rubbing against his legs. He chuckled, crouching down so that he could give him a light scratch behind his ears. Part of it was because Alpine was happy to have his owner home, Bucky was sure. But the other part was about the fact that it was definitely past Alpine’s usual dinnertime. Bucky understood all of that.

“I know,” his metal fingers can down Alpine’s spine, causing him to arch and purr, “I’m late.”

The next few minutes was just Bucky hanging up his jacket, giving Alpine his dinner, and then pulling something out of the freezer to cook for his own dinner as well. While he was waiting for the oven to finish pre-heating, the only sound that could be heard was Alpine crunching on his kibble as he stood above his bowl. Bucky watched him for a moment, a small smile on his face at the simplicity of the life he had now. Something that for a long time he didn’t think he would ever have.

It was a good life. It was quieter now than it had been for a long time—he was almost used to it. But maybe Tony was right, not that Bucky would ever tell him as much in so many words, but there might’ve been something to what Tony had been trying to tell him. A truth that was simpler to ignore because continuing on as he had been required far less work than trying to get to know someone, trying to let someone get to know him.

He pulled his phone out, tempted to search your name just to see what would pop up, what he would be able to learn about you. Then he stopped himself, shaking his head to try and dispel the thoughts. What good would it do? Why was he thinking like you were someone he knew already? Or like you were someone that already knew him? For all he knew, you’d forgotten him already. Hell, for all he knew you had no desire to get to know anyone, let alone someone like him. The beeping of his oven saved him from going down that spiral any further.

~*~

Sam was sitting on the stool to Bucky’s left. The music in the bar was loud, but not so much so that they had to shout to talk to each other. But once Bucky processed the sentence that Sam had just spoken to him, he instantly wished that the music was loud enough so that he couldn’t hear the other man at all.

Bucky pulled a long drink from the beer bottle in his hand, gloved fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of it. “Can’t believe he got you in on this shit too.”

Sam shrugged, unfazed by Bucky’s blatant annoyance. “I’m just sayin’, I think the guy might have a point.”

“Since when do you agree with Stark?”

Sam laughed. “I’ll agree with anybody if I think they’re right!” He paused, studied the look on Bucky’s face and then added on with a laugh, “Well, yeah, not you. But other people.”

Bucky tried to keep his annoyed expression but then chuckled. “Fuck you.”

Sam wasn’t going to let the conversation get derailed. “Alright, so you don’t like the girl he was telling you about, so why don’t you—”

“I didn’t say—”

“They got apps for that now. Oh, sorry,” Sam held up his hand in a pausing motion, “Apps are things that you can put on your pho—”

Bucky’s brows knit together. “I know what apps are.”

Sam allowed himself a minute to laugh at his own joke before saying, “So it’s not the girl. Then, what? Afraid you left all your game back in the forties?”

He shook his head, eyes suddenly glued down to his beer bottle. “Sure, yeah. Something like that.”

“Want my advice?”

“No.”

Sam gave it anyway. “Get over it.” He ignored the increasingly annoyed look on Bucky’s face. “Go buy a girl a drink. Ask her for her number. Use whatever corny line you used back in the nineteen hundreds the last time you had to pretend to have some game.”

Bucky didn’t want to laugh but he couldn’t stop himself. Sam might’ve been oversimplifying but Bucky was also vaguely aware of the fact that he was overcomplicating things for himself. “I’ll think about it. But,” he paused to point at Sam accusingly while he grabbed a sip of his beer, “I didn’t have to pretend to have game. I had it—have. I have it.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Riiiight.”

The topic dropped, and they moved onto talking about other things. There were frequent pauses in the conversation, both of them turning to look at people coming into the bar. Neither of them ever thought they would fully break that habit, no matter how often they went out into the world as civilians.

The door let out a quiet chime, and Bucky’s head instinctively snapped in the direction to see who was coming in. His eyes widened and he stopped himself in the middle of the sentence that he was saying to Sam. There was no brain to mouth filter as he let out a quiet, “Shit.”

Sam’s face contorted in confusion as he turned to see what it was that had Bucky reacting that way. He looked over, his confusion immediately shifting into a smug grin when he saw you standing in the doorway. Bucky hadn’t even given Sam a description of what you looked like, but he could tell from Bucky’s reaction that there was no way that you could possibly be anyone else.

“Talk about good timing,” Sam joked.

Bucky was still staring at you, not that you’d noticed, as he spoke to Sam. “Shut up.”

“Now’s the time.”

He fought the urge to shove him off the stool. “I said shut up.”

You were only a couple steps inside the bar, you phone clutched tightly in one hand as you looked around the semi-tight space. The focused furrow of your brow said that you were looking for someone. The tight black jeans and lacy grey top you were wearing said that you were probably looking for your date. There were five million reasons Bucky felt his mouth go dry and none of them were doing him any good.

He saw the rise and fall of your shoulders as you let out a sigh. You typed on your phone for a moment before making your way over to the bar, carefully weaving your way through the clusters of other patrons. The closer you got, the more Bucky hoped that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. You were so focused on getting to the bar and snagging a rare empty seat, that you didn’t even notice that the seat was next to him until after you’d ordered your drink. You wouldn’t have looked in his direction at all if you hadn’t heard someone laughing.

When you turned, the first thing you saw was Bucky, the familiar face and leather jacket. The next thing you noticed was the man on the other side of him, the source of said laughter. You tilted your head as your eyes made their way back to Bucky. You allowed yourself a laugh of your own. “Bucky?”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “H-hey. Yeah, hi.”

“So funny seeing you here!” You paused, looking back and forth between him and the man next to him. “How are you?”

He nodded again, pulling the words up one by one. “Good. I’m good. You?”

“I’m, um,” you chuckled awkwardly, “I’m alright, I think? Supposed to be meeting someone here but,” you glanced around, “I don’t see them yet.”

The man on the other side of Bucky leaned across him and held his hand out. “I’m Sam, by the way.” He flashed you a charming grin. “Not the person you were looking for, but figured I’d introduce myself anyway since this guy wasn’t going to.”

You laughed as you told him your name. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

The three of you chit-chatted, and you tried not to think too much about the way that Bucky was looking at you. You were putting too much thought into it, you were certain. Maybe you were just projecting, taking all the growing disappointment you were feeling about your supposed “date” still not being there and channeling it into the way that Bucky seemed to be so attentively listening to you.

Taking another sip from the straw in your drink, you checked the time on your phone one more time. Letting out a deep sigh, you looked over at Bucky, and Sam too. “I’m glad I ran into you two tonight, because from the looks of it the person that I came out to see is not showing up.” You shoved your phone back into the pocket of your jeans with a shake of your head.

“He’s an idiot,” Sam chimed in without hesitation.

You laughed and nodded. “I appreciate the sentiment.” You finished off your drink and you didn’t try to dissuade the bartender who was grabbing your glass and heading off to make you another. Looking back at the two of them, you said, “My friends were the ones who convinced me to get on those stupid dating apps anyway.” You shook your head. “Lotta good it did, huh?”

Bucky nodded, shooting a pointed look at Sam as he said, “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Sam was laughing, but Bucky noticed the way that he was moving to throw some cash down on the bar. He gathered up his jacket as he got off the stool. “Well, not to be the bearer of more bad news, but I gotta take off.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulders as he walked by. “But you two crazy kids stay out and have some fun. It was very nice to meet you.” He flashed the two of you another grin. “Call if you need bail money. Not me, but, you know, call somebody.”

You laughed as you and Bucky each said goodbye to him. The two of you watched him as he practically skipped out of the bar and out onto the street. Bucky was caught between wishing he could chase Sam down and tackle him, and wishing he could skip right out the door alongside him. There was no buffer between the two of you anymore, and Bucky felt so strangely exposed.

“Sorry about your date,” Bucky finally offered up.

You smiled good-naturedly. “I’m not that heartbroken over it,” you said honestly as the bartender set your fresh drink down in front of you. “My expectations were pretty low, but, you know,” you took a sip, “not so low that I assumed he wasn’t gonna be here.”

Bucky chuckled. “That’s fair.”

“Honestly, I’m just more pissed off that I wasted one of my few free weekend evenings on some guy who didn’t even bother texting me to cancel.”

“Few?”

You smiled as you said, “My daughter. Every other week she’s with her dad. I miss her when she’s gone, so I try to stay busy. Usually with friends, but every now and then it’s some pipe-dream of a date.” You took another sip. “They usually do show up, though, at the risk of making myself sound horrible desperate,” you joked.

Bucky laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

Your smile softened a touch, but it was still there. “Well, thank you for that at least.”

You had every intention of finishing off your drink, paying your tab, and heading right home. You weren’t typically one for staying out all hours in a bar or a club somewhere, even when you were out with your friends. And, as nice as it was that you had a chance run-in with Bucky when everything else seemed to be going wrong, you were still ready to turn it in and go home. Back to your pajamas and fuzzy blankets.

That’s not what happened, however, despite your best intentions. Somewhere along the way you switched from cocktails to soda just for the sake of being able to stay longer without getting too much of a buzz as you talked to Bucky. He wasn’t exactly a chatterbox, per se, and you hadn’t really expected him to be. The two of you managed to keep up a good pace of back and forth regardless of that. He did a little more listening than he did talking but it didn’t seem to bother him. It also made you realize that even though you had your friends, and your fellow teachers at school, there weren’t a whole lot of times when you went out to socialize with other adults. It also didn’t hurt that Bucky was so nice to look at, that he seemed to be just as interested in looking right back at you.

You’d both lost track of time as you sat there, and when you were both finally making your way towards the door of the bar, it was much later than either of you had bargained for. The two of you walked, and Bucky pulled the door open for you. The two of you were mid-conversation when you landed back out on the sidewalk. It was only then that you realized you probably weren’t going to be heading in the same direction.

Bucky watched as you motioned back over your shoulder, the opposite direction from the way he was heading. “I’m parked this way, but, it was really good seeing you. What are the chances, right?” You laughed lightly.

He smiled, nodded. “Yeah. It was, um,” he could feel the words that he wanted to say resting on the tip of his tongue and he was conflicted about whether or not he wanted to actually say them, “it was good to see you again.” He paused, hating every bit of hesitation that he was feeling. “Do you, um, I was wondering,” he was reaching for the pocket of his jacket for his phone as he fumbled his way through the question, “I mean on your next free weekend…”

You felt your face warm as he continued on. You knew where the line of questioning was going, and part of you knew that maybe you should put him out of his misery. But it was sweet, and you were enjoying that. Finally, you nodded. “That’d be nice.”

He let out a sigh of relief as he took his phone out. “Great. Okay, yeah. I’ll…I’ll call you. You know,” he managed a smile with a little more ease, “save you from all the apps.”

You laughed as you typed your name and number in. “You’re a lifesaver.”

In the back of his mind he knew that he should be making some sort of move now. Walk you to your car, give you a hug, something. But if asking for your number was as difficult as it had proven itself to be, he didn’t know what it was going to be like trying to manage anything else. So he took the win, and bid you goodnight.

Over the course of the next couple days, he was caught between wanting to tell both Tony and Sam separately that he’d gotten your number. He thought maybe it would help get them off his back. What he didn’t want, though, was for them to just get on his case about a whole new slew of things. He also didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they’d been right.

So, instead of reaching out to either of them, he texted you instead. It was casual at first, just brief messages here and there. Texting wasn’t his favorite way to stay in touch with people, but he at least recognized that it was what people did now.

He called you once, when he wanted to actually try and make plans to see you. That conversation wasn’t one that he wanted to have over text, and he told you as much. You also found that to be sweet as well. It wasn’t a long conversation, one taking place while you made dinner and your daughter was busy with her toys in the living room. But the two of you settled on a date, a time, and that he would come by your place to pick you up. You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so much while making pasta.

~*~

“Tony is never gonna let you hear the end of this when he finds out,” Sam said as he sat down at Bucky’s kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky grabbed drinks out of his fridge. “That’s why I haven’t said anything to him about it.”

“Nothing?!”

“No!” Bucky said, breaking down into laughter after a moment. “You gonna tell him?”

“What, you think that we’re texting about you all the time?” Sam shook his head. “Get over yourself.”

Bucky was about to come back with something snarky as per usual when his phone chimed on the counter. Sam looked, too nosey to stop himself. The grin that spread across his face when he saw your name on the screen. At the look on Sam’s face, Bucky’s instinct was to reach and flip the phone over, but he stopped himself. Instead, he grabbed his phone and messaged you back before setting it down.

“You wanna call me while you’re getting ready?” Sam joked. “I’ll help you pick out an outfit. Tell you how to do your hair.”

Bucky chuckled. “Fuck you.”

~*~

He didn’t call Sam before the date. He also hadn’t heard anything from Tony which led him to believe that Sam had been kind enough to keep his mouth shut. That was all well and good, but he wished that it did anything to soothe the nerves that he was feeling as he stood outside your door.

He felt like an awkward sixteen-year-old again as he stood on your front step. He rang the doorbell, flowers clutched tightly in his hand as he waited. He’d spoken to you earlier, and you had seemed excited about it all still. That gave him hope. But again, it still wasn’t enough to eradicate the lingering feelings of anxiety he had.

Another few seconds passed by and then you pulled open the door. You were smiling at him as you were trying to do the latch on your necklace. “Hey! Sorry, I still have to get my shoes on and stuff. Please,” you stepped back and nodded for him to step inside, “come in. I’ll be ready in like, two minutes.”

He smiled as he somewhat nervously followed your instructions, stepping just past the threshold of your house. “Take your time,” he said calmly as he shut the door behind him.

He looked around while you finished putting on your jewelry and went to grab your shoes. He wasn’t sure what he had been picturing your house looking like, but what he saw felt fitting. It was tidy considering how young your daughter was. There were some toys scattered about in patches, framed photos on the walls and drawings tacked onto the fridge by magnets. It was a home in a way that none of Bucky’s places since he came back had ever been.

“Okay,” you said as you reappeared, smoothing out your blouse, “I’m ready. Sor—” you stopped short when you finally noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hand. The smile on your face was wide enough to make your cheeks hurt. “Those are beautiful.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, like he’d forgotten that he had them. He held them out to you. “Just figured, you know…”

You smiled as you took them, flitting off to the kitchen so that you could put them in a vase with water. “Thank you.”

As the two of you drove, you could feel him slowly starting to relax. The two of you talked, and you could see the way that his grip on the steering wheel started to become less vice-like. There was something refreshing in the way that he opened the car door for you, and the door to the diner that the two of you had agreed on. He sat down across from you in the booth and you noticed the way that he still had his gloves on as he looked through the menu. You wanted to ask but you didn’t—if he wanted to say something about it you had a feeling that he would.

The conversation felt easy, the same way it had been that night at the bar. The only difference now was the feeling in the air. There was a different kind of tension now that hadn’t been there before. Sure, you’d been attracted to him even then, but that hadn’t been a date. Not like this.

Every now and then if one of you shifted in your seat and your feet or legs would brush. Neither of you said anything about it, but you could feel the upward curl of your own lips as it happened, the occasional pink flush of Bucky’s cheeks. Sometimes it’d make him stumble in his sentence and you’d do him the courtesy of not commenting on it.

The two of you were splitting a piece of pie for dessert, something you insisted on because you knew the woman who baked them for the diner. It wasn’t as though Bucky put up any great fight about it. The closer the two of you got to finishing it, the more you engaged in low-stakes warfare, dueling with your forks over the pieces with the best crust-to-filling ratio.

“You can have the last bite,” you conceded with a laugh, leaning back in the booth.

“Oh, come on,” he joked, “it doesn’t feel good to win by forfeit.”

You laughed, warmth blossoming up your neck and across your face. “It’s not forfeit. Think of it as, I don’t know,” you drummed your fingers against the tabletop, “me being nice since it was your first time here.” You paused, studying the amused look on his face. “That better?”

He shrugged, a smirk on his face. “Little bit.”

The two of you walked back out to his car, and you found yourself walking much closer to his side than you had been on the way in. Your arm brushed against his as the two of you walked, and you found yourself about half a step away from leaning into his side.

He reached to open the car door for you, but before he could you leaned back against it so that you were facing him. You let one arm hang by your side, with the other you brought your palm so that it rested against his chest, pads of your fingertips pressing lightly against the leather.

Bucky almost pulled away out of reflex, but he didn’t. “Yes?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing, nothing.” You let your hand drop, the pads of your fingers dragging for a moment before your arm was back at your side once more. You moved just enough so that he could open the door again for you. “Thank you.”

Bucky walked you up to the door of your house, and he felt like his heart was beating clean up into the back of his throat. He didn’t remember dating being this nerve-wracking before. You seemed perfectly unfazed, though as you sauntered up and slipped your key into the lock.

“You wanna come in?” you offered as you opened the door. “Have a drink?”

It took more effort to swallow than it should have. “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

You chuckled. “If you don’t want to—”

“I do,” he reassured, his voice earnest.

Your smiled grew. “Okay.” You stepped and waved him in with you. “C’mon.” You noticed the way that he still had his jacket and gloves on when you came back out of the kitchen with a bottle in each hand. You handed one over to him. “Nothing fancy, but it’s also usually just me drinking them, so…”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

There were a few beats of silence, each of you sipping out of your bottles before you said, “You don’t do this a lot, do you?”

His eyes widened for a moment, slight panic. “What?”

Your smile was warm as you gestured with your hand that held the bottle. “This. Dates. Not…not your thing, is it?”

He held the bottle between both his hands. “I’m…out of practice, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “That noticeable?”

You shook your head. “Not really. You just seemed, I don’t know, a little nervous. And I don’t know why a guy who looks like you would have any reason to be nervous on a date other than…”

“Other than I don’t go on them,” he finished with a soft laugh.

Your face heated up as you smiled. “Kinda.”

“How’d I do?” he asked, mostly joking.

You stepped in closer to him, noticing a different kind of tension in his body. “You’re doing great.”

He huffed out a laugh but it was much softer than he intended, betraying more of his real feelings than he bargained for. “This part?” He made a small gesture between you. “This part I’m really,” he forced out a puff of air through his teeth, “yeah.”

There was a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Want some help?”

He laughed but he didn’t say no, didn’t move away. He swallowed hard as you took the bottle from his hand and set them both on the coffee table in your living room. He was fighting hard to say something—ideally something smooth but at this point he would’ve settled for just about anything. Within seconds you were standing close to him again, bodies a breath away from being pressed flush against each other. Your hands rested on his chest for a moment, and you waited to see if he would change his mind and pull away—you were giving him the chance. But then you felt his hands tentatively land on your hips and you smiled, your body easing against his. You brought one hand up to the side of his face, thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“Not so bad,” you asked softly, “right?”

He shook his head, finally forcing out a quiet, “No, it’s not.”

You smiled and leaned in, lightly pressing your lips to his. It was delicate, fleeting—you were pulling away as quickly as you’d leaned in. The sliver of space left between your lips and his was the silent ask for him to let you know if this was the end of the night or not. He could pull away from you, no harm no foul, or he could lean in and kiss you again and figure it out from there.

It felt like you were both holding your breath for a moment, faces just too close to be able to get a good look in each other’s eyes. You were about to pull back to really look at him when he leaned in and kissed you, more conviction than the quick gesture from before. You readily gave into him, hand sliding from his cheek to the back of his head to keep him pulled to you. As his lips moved against yours, one of his hands slid so that it was resting at the center of the small of your back.

The two of you stayed like that in the middle of your living room, all locking lips and wandering hands. You would’ve let the entire night fall away spent just like that and been more than fine with it. When the two of you finally came back up for air, when Bucky pulled away from you enough to really look into your eyes, you saw that more than anything he was surprised. Maybe it was at you, maybe it was at himself, but regardless it was there. Underneath that, though, you could see that there was something more. His hand that wasn’t on the small of your back came up to cup your chin, the leather of his gloves smooth to the touch against your skin. He tilted your chin just slightly and then your lips were back on his again.

Out of instinct you tugged down the zipper of his jacket. Your hands came up to his shoulders, getting ready to push his jacket down off of them. It was only then that he pulled away from you again, breathless as he desperately searched your face.

“What?” you asked gently, pausing your movements.

“Nothing, nothing. I,” he pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment. “I wasn’t expecting…I just…”

“If it’s too much,” you said, taking a small step back, “we can—”

“No,” he stopped you short, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I just…” He took a breath. “Do you know? Who I am?”

You chuckled. “You’re friends with Iron Man and Falcon. I,” you shrugged, “I connected some dots along the way.”

He laughed, a sound of relief. “A lot of people don’t…you know…”

“A lot of people don’t have people from The Avengers dropping off school snacks once a week.” You paused and let both of you laugh. Allowing your tone to get a little more serious, you said, “I know, Bucky,” you moved once more to push his jacket down off his shoulders, “and it’s okay.”

He allowed you to do it, allowed his jacket to drop to the floor. Even with the long-sleeve shirt that he had on underneath, you could see the difference between his arms. You brought your hands to his, helping him pull the gloves off next. He was holding his breath—you could tell. When his gloves were off you ran your fingers along each of his palms, skin and metal, with equal delicate care.

When you looked into his eyes again you saw the way he was looking at you—bewildered, eager. You brought one hand back to his face again, urging him back towards you. It was a cue that he gladly took, kissing you with fervor. His hands were on your sides, and when he felt the way your other hand was running up his arm, he couldn’t stop himself, from letting his hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

It’d been so long, he realized as his hands roamed your sides and back, since he’d last felt someone like this. When your fingers slid underneath the collar of his shirt, splaying across what they could reach where the nape of his neck turned stretched into his shoulders, he also realized that it’d been a long time since he’d let someone feel him like this too.

All the nerves, the tension of the night, it all started to melt away as he felt you reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt to pull off over his head. He didn’t want to stop you, and he knew that that meant something. Maybe they’d all been right—maybe there was something to letting someone else in again. As he felt the warmth of your palms against his skin, he could only hope that the rest of it felt this good too.

[gallaghersgal]

would it be possible to request carmy and elementary school teacher!reader like the plot could literally be anything I just love the thought of him bringing food for the class and being surrounded by a bunch of little kids who want to ask him questions and play with him and he’s all shy at first and loves watching reader with the kids…i’m feeling so soft rn 😭

hi my lovely anon!! im so sorry for letting this rot, i hope you're still hanging around to read it!!

field day is one of the best days of the year for a kindergartener. they run as much as their little bodies allow them, play games all school day, and have their bellies full of a delicious lunch. this year, that lunch is provided by none other than your boyfriend's restaurant, catering mini beef sandwiches for the kids.

you step behind the table to kiss carmen on the cheek when your class gets to the lunch station. he smiles and his arm wraps around your waist, muttering to you, "y're so good with those kids, 's drivin' me crazy."

you blush at his implications and smile when he leans in to pepper your cheek with a few quick kisses. a squeal interrupts the moment, the sound from one of your students who points at the scene with a grin. she shouts your name before asking, "is that your boyfriend!?!" her friends giggle, some of them remarking on how boys have cooties, and the little girl continues to stare at you excitedly.

"since you all have such curious minds," you start, the whole class's attention focused on you now, "this is my boyfriend, mr. carmy."

carmen smiles, giving your students a wave. they all giggle excitedly, greeting him with a staggered chorus of hi mr. carmy!

"alright, alright," you say with a smile. "we only have two field rotations to eat. so come to me for some hand sanitizer, then get your sandwich from mr. carmy."

the kids file through the line one at a time, choosing which sandwich they want, and what flavor chips will accompany it. one boy asks carmen, "do you make all the beef sandwiches?"

your boyfriend chuckles, shaking his head. "no, i don't make all the sandwiches bud. usually i'm makin' other sh- stuff." his cheeks heat up a little at his near slip, but the boy just nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and carmen asks him "now, what d'ya want, kid?"

[moondirti]

i accidentally deleted the ask i received yesterday (like an idiot) so im dumping the rant i left underneath it for archival reasons

what i love most about big ugly brute simon is pairing him with girls who get a little too close. perhaps they catch him staring in public and smile politely, a little daunted but attributing what they can to innocent intent over malice. who treat him with basic decency, or perhaps extend a little extra kindness if they take the dead look in his eyes to be consequence of a rough day. the one's who hold doors open for him, or let him skip in line because he looks like he can really do with the coffee. the maybe he's just misunderstood, never judge a book by it's cover, treat others the way you want to be treated type.

kind, polite, genuinely good girls, who live life by the please and thank you handbook they were given in kindergarten, and were never taught when to keep it to themselves. well-meaning always, yet either foolish or curious when they give a beast the benefit of the doubt.

because while their courtesy is just that in the eyes of conventional society, it has an absolutely foul effect on one simon riley.

say it's because hardly anyone is ever keen on him. certainly not pretty birds, with pretty wrists, and pretty hair and clothes and easily corruptible smiles. at the first sign of warmth, he'll pounce. all animal, blinded hunger. cruel passion he knows you're not built to take, your heart pulpy like saccharine fruit. cruel passion that he will inflict anyway; trailing behind you all the way home, choreographing meetings, pushing your courtesy to its limits by being nothing but a rude brute. he bullies his way into your life, making a man-sized hole where he was uninvited (though he'll contest that. what does a smile mean if not lay over me and print yourself on my womb?). bullies you into submission, weaponising that tenderness to suit his real needs–

not coffee, or a good morning, or anything but a warm cunt and meal to come home to.

i don't think he'd ever ease up the intensity, either. even if you acquiesce or are flattered by the distasteful attention. though simon might soften up to you (in the only way he can: lending his ear while you talk about his day, or walking blocks in the rain to fetch takeout from that specific greek place you've been craving), he's still mean about it. presses you where you're weak, isolates you from your friends. hones derision when you continue to be just as amicable to everyone else. you must be asking for it, see, if you had been asking for it with him. is a big dick about it, callous and nasty as he can be – because you allow him to be, babbling tearful apologies into his chest instead of standing up for yourself.

doesn't believe any of it, of course. he knows you're too sweet for your own good. but he can't help but love seeing you get all desperate when you cry. makes his knees go weak. his head itch. you'll hold on to his arm – soft and wet and repentant, pure silk against his gnarled edges (a point people will always latch onto. how'd he land that? right minger he is) – until he growls something about making it up to him.

which you jump at. good, good, generous girl. will seat yourself, fine china between thighs that could crush you, and choke on his ruddy cock. maybe he holds you down on it, stuffs your nose onto the untamed mess of his pubes until your little legs kick for breath. or, maybe he'll lead you to down to fit your tongue in his ass, tugging himself over you until cum mats your hair. whatever the most vile, debased thing he can conceptualise at the moment is fair game. not necessarily because of the deed itself, but because he lives for nothing more than watching you do it despite not wanting to. to please him :(

sorry im a little crazy about this

[michibap]

schlatt w/ single mother!reader

-jaded kindergarten teacher!schlatt who children seem to love for whatever reason

-big grumpy man who has 3-5 small children hanging off of him at any given moment

-he’s cool with most of his students, of course there are gonna be little shit head ipad kids

-but a new addition to his class has been keeping his ass BUSY

-it’s this feral little douchebag who communicates exclusively in growls and grunts (though schlatt and a few other aids have a theory that it’s because he’s shy)

-unless it’s to say something inappropriate that he has to scramble to tell the rest of the kids not to repeat

-fairly good with sharing, it’s the other kids who just come and take that are the problem

-because he’ll just fuckin bite them

“Bodhi, we have got to work on this biting thing, dude. Not cool.”

“Hn.”

“Yeah I know he started it, but sometimes you have to be the bigger person, bud.”

“Buh.”

“I don’t know why I bother.”

-DOES in fact know why he bothered

-Bodhi is a cool little dude

-sometimes when he doesn’t go down for a nap with the rest of the students, schlatt will lie on the floor and draw with him

-and the little dude draws some pretty cool shit

-dragons and robots and zombies, other things of the like

-sometimes he’ll let schlatt doodle something on his paper and add his own flare to it

-schlatt has a FUCKTON of art stuck to his fridge, but Bodhi takes the cake

-one of his favorites was a picture he had drawn of schlatt as a werewolf and himself as a knight in shining armor, protecting another stick figure lazily labeled as “MOM”

-that being said

-another perk of Bodhi?

-hot mom

-HOT fucking mom

-like jesus christ dude

-it may or may not be part of the reason why Bodhi gets away with so much

(GUILTY!)

-he met you for the first time a few weeks after Bodhi was enrolled

-usually, he was dropped off at 8am sharp and picked up at 4pm on the dot by his very sweet grandmother

-so, schlatt was a little up in arms when he was still standing on the sidewalk at 4:30, hand in hand with Bodhi, who was very obviously trying to hold back tears but being very brave about it

-when he sees your shit box truck pull up, he’s ready to tear whatever douchebag is in there a new one

-he’s cooking up a snarky comment as the rusted door swings open

-but he fucking short circuits when your head pops out with a toothy smile, toothpick caught between your canines

-smeared in dust, splattered with mud, sleeves of your neon yellow tee rolled up to reveal strong, tanned arms

“Hey, booger!” you greet excitedly, crouching with open arms

-schlatt tries to get a hold of Bodhi, because as disarming as you are, your ass is NOT on the pickup list

-but before he can stop him, the little shit is hurtling himself towards you with an excited shriek,

“MOMMY!”

-you laugh and wrap him up in one arm, the other shooting out to keep the two of you from toppling to the concrete

-grimacing as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck, wiping his snotty nose off on your shirt

-your attention is drawn away by the sound of somebody coughing into their fist

-you look up at where schlatt is still stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed over his chest and brows set into a firm line

“Pickup is at 4.”

-you quirk a brow, moving to stand, scooping Bodhi up with one arm and pushing yourself up with the other

“Is it?” you turn to look at Bodhi, who was eagerly nodding from where his cheek was squished to your shoulder

“My bad, bud. I’ll make it up to ya,” you promise, bringing your free hand up to tickle his side, grinning when he giggles and mashes his face into your shirt again

-you turn to schlatt with a guilty smile,

“Got caught up at the site, you know how it is.”

-schlatt only raises a brow, not ready to let you off the hook so easy

“Sure.”

-Bodhi would not shut the FUCK up about how excited he was for his mom to pick him up today

-and you left him WAITING???

-FUCK YOU???

“Unfortunately, you’re gonna get charged for a late pickup fee. ‘s policy.”

-part of him is satisfied when he sees your eyes go a little wide,

“Damn, no strike system or anything?”

-so that’s where Bodhi gets his mouth from

“Against policy. Unfortunately.”

-your jaw sets,

“Right. So are you just gonna charge it to our account or can I give you cash?”

“What?”

“Because I’d really prefer if I could just give you cash.”

“I- Are you serious?”

-it’s your turn to look exasperated

“Look dude if you don’t know it’s fine-“

“No! No-“ he shakes his head, gathering his thoughts

-Bodhi is looking between the two of you, a little confused

“Just- Follow me.”

-he watches you cock your head, expression eerily similar to the child in your arms

“I just have to put something into the computer in the office.”

-your lips form a little ‘o’ and you nod

“Can we show her homeroom?” a small voice asks

-schlatt’s head fucking WHIPS to look at Bodhi with wide eyes

-that’s the most words he’s heard the kid say at once??

-he locks back in when he sees the little guy flush, not wanting to spook him

-FUCK

-he REALLY wanted to get out of here

-and you’ve done nothing but cause problems

-but he CAN’T turn Bodhi down, especially after seeing the little guy try not to cry earlier AND finally hearing him speak up

-deep sigh.

“Sure, bud.”

-he leads the two of you down the hallway, pretending he’s not straining to listen as Bohdi points things out in the hallway and shyly whispers to you

-you eagerly nodding at whatever he says, asking questions that he answers

-he stops at the door of his classroom, wordlessly motioning towards the open door

-Bodhi squirms out of your arms and runs in, giggling as the motion sense lights turn on

-you slowly walk in after him, taking your time

-taking in all of the nerdy decor he has up on the walls alongside the collection of arts and crafts from the students

-schlatt’s watching you look around, weirdly insecure about what you think about his setup

-though your attention is drawn from the walls when a small hand tugs on your own, leading you towards the sandbox that he frequents

-after a few minutes of fucking around, you glance to where schlatt is standing by the door

“Alright, boog, let’s get this show on the road.”

-schlatt grins at your smaller counterpart as the two of you walk over

“You guys ready?”

-like he wasn’t watching you two like a hawk

-Bodhi nods, and schlatt leads the two of you to the main office, holding the door open for both of you to walk in

-he goes to stand behind the desk, mumbling to himself as he logs in

-paling a bit when the system requests that he inputs your ID

-he flushes, glancing up at you and finding you already looking at him from where you’re leaned against the counter

“Could I, uh, see your ID?”

-he watches you quirk a brow, a knowing smile playing at your lips

“My ID?” you parrot, “A little late for that, yeah?”

-he rolls his eyes at your teasing tone

“Please, like he’s not your twin.” he scoffs, nodding at where Bodhi is patiently sitting in a chair that he looks comically small in

-you grin, turning to look at him for a moment, giving him a silly wink when he perks up

“I dunno, I could be some kiddie nabber for all you know.”

“What?” a small voice interrupts

“Mommy’s gonna kidnap you.”

“Okay!”

-you turn back to schlatt

“I don’t know dude, seems like something that could get you into some pretty deep shit.”

-he really couldn’t help the little grin spreading across his lips, your mischievous energy slowly getting to him

-he leans down a bit a bit closer,

“You wanna know a secret?”

-all he can do is PRAY that he doesn’t get red when you lean in as well

-and you really hope you don’t smell too much like asphalt and BO

“Yeah, I wanna know a secret.”

“You’re not even supposed to be in here.”

-your brows raise a bit and you pull back, no longer holding back your entertained grin

-and his stomach drops because FUCK

-could definitely lose his job over something like that

-BUT….

-you have something to gain from this…

-he can tell by the way your grin spreads that you won’t be sending any strongly worded emails the way you were implying you would

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

-his lips spread into a toothy grin that you match, and he holds out a hand that you firmly shake,

“Deal.”

-with a satisfied nod, you turn and wrangle Bodhi out of the chair, and he giggles as he grabs at your shirt and clings to your middle

“Bye Mr. Schlatt!”

-schlatt grins and gives him a little wave, faltering when you turn around with another one of those smirks

“Later, Mr. Schlatt.”

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [20] - Nightclub

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Business deals are open to negotiation.  

Word Count: 2600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself, scratching at Alpine’s head with one hand while holding your phone with the other, your eyes skimming the lines. “Seriously…”

Bucky sipped his coffee. “Care to share with the class, Charm?”

You heaved a sigh and shot him a look, holding up the phone so that he could see the screen.

“Clint leaves the city for a couple of days and HYDRA immediately attacks his territory?” you asked and Bucky hummed.

“I mean he had his people covering it,” he said. “Just because he wasn’t here, doesn’t mean it was open to any attack.”

“Which makes it worse,” you told him with a sigh, then reached out for the jar of peanut butter to dip a spoon into it. “How many sources do these guys have?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Bucky said, reaching out to run his fingers through Alpine’s soft fur as she meowed at him. “You’re coming to the club tonight, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Your phone buzzed in your hand and you took a look at the notification, then licked your lips.

“Buck.”

“Hm?”

“So you know how our therapist said open communication is very important?”

“I don’t trust the therapist.”

“Shocking,” you deadpanned. “Anyway, I’m meeting Ethan today for lunch.”

Bucky let out a groan before he threw his head back. “Charm…”

“This is me openly communicating.”

“This is you throwing a knife at me and calling it communication,” Bucky corrected you, making your jaw drop.

“It’s not!”

“I will ask this question once again; why are you meeting your ex who wants to fuck you?”

“That’s not—I know the idea isn’t familiar to you, but some people can be friends with their exes.”

“So it’d be fine if I met up with one of my exes for lunch?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to ignore the unpleasant flip your stomach did.

“If you can find an ex who doesn’t want to kill you?” you said. “Go ahead.”

He scoffed. “Not all of them hate me.”

“Is the ex who doesn’t hate you in the room with us right now?” you asked back and he made a face.

“I don’t know who fed you those lies, I’m guessing Becca—”

“Becca is very objective when it comes to your exes,” you pointed out. “And how terrible you are in relationships.”

“I’m not terrible in relationships.”

“Did you stay friends with any of your exes?”

“Yeah!”

“Give me a name.”

He blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat. “…Dot.”

“Dot hates your guts, Buck.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know she dumped you,” you said and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“It was a mutual decision.”

“It really wasn’t,” you said. “You do realize that I’ve been best friends with your sister since I was in kindergarten? I know everything about your terrible relationships.”

“To repeat, they’re not—don’t change the subject,” he said as you sipped your coffee. “Your ex?”

“My ex does not want to kill me like your exes or fuck me like you seem to think.”

“Oh he wants to marry you then?” he asked and even though you knew he was being sarcastic, your stomach did a flip. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, I beat him to it.”

You clicked your tongue as you dipped your spoon in the peanut butter jar again.

“As much as I enjoy you referring to me like I’m the last piece of cake,” you deadpanned. “I will make sure both your dick and you regret it the next time you do that.”

He blinked a couple of times and you gave him a bright grin, then popped the spoon into your mouth, then pulled it out to point at him with it.

“See?” you asked him. “Open communication. Therapy works wonderfully for this relationship.”

                                                  *

“Tell me I didn’t make you wait for long,” Ethan said as he rushed into the café and you let out a laugh, then stood up to kiss his cheek.

“I just got here, no worries,” you said. “Ordered your coffee though.”

“You know my coffee order?”

“Yeah,” you said and made a face at him. “Terrible order but yeah. Burned into my mind.”

That made him smile as he sat down.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was going to come sooner but—”

“Let me guess, your boss?”

“One of these days, that man will get in an accident that I’ve been hoping and praying for,” he told you, making you laugh.

“That’s doable,” you said. “I told you before.”

He heaved a sigh. “Stop. Right now, I feel like taking you up on that offer.”

“You can.”

He frowned, then shook his head.

“No no,” he said. “I’ve watched too many movies about this.”

“I’m not going to put a horse head in your bed, Ethan.”

“No, not that!” he said, letting out a chuckle. “Power corrupts.”

You shrugged again. “Nah it doesn’t.”

“It would corrupt me,” he told you as the waitress brought your coffees. “How about you? How’s uh…how’s marriage?”

Your eyes snapped to his and you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat.

“Ethan, if it’s going to lead to yet another—”

“It won’t,” he cut you off and offered you a small smile. “Don’t worry. I got the message.”

A silence fell upon you. You could feel your stomach doing a flip at the implication of what he had said and even though you actually wanted to talk about it, you knew you couldn’t.

Now to think of it…

You weren’t sure if you could even get together with him after your divorce. The idea was tempting yes, but you weren’t sure he could handle the life the job brought with it. While you and Bucky could torture an agent of HYDRA and then get takeout afterwards, doing the same wasn’t possible with Ethan and—

Strangely enough, you found yourself wondering whether you could still do it with Bucky after you two would get a divorce.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up and you cleared your throat, then smiled at him.

“Sorry,” you said. “Blanked out for a second. You were saying?”

                                                   *

Opening night of a club, especially if it was in Barnes, Wilson or Rogers territories, was always so much fun that even when you were teenagers, you and Becca would sneak into them, most of the time to get caught by Steve. Now that you were a grown up, you still enjoyed them but you also knew what was happening in the background.

It was the perfect time to make deals.

The crowd, the music, the alcohol, it all served its purpose to make better deals without getting the weapons or threats involved. Not to mention, getting invited to the opening night showed respect to whoever was a part of any negotiation.

You took a sip of your drink and leaned back on the sofa, keeping your eyes on Mr. Clifford. He was one of the new players in town, but powerful enough to be invited to your -well, Bucky’s- VIP booth tonight. If this deal worked, he could make the shipments to your territory much smoother but the problem was, neither you nor Bucky could decide whether you could trust him or not.

He had good references, but he was still sort of a mystery.

“I wasn’t aware you would be here as well, Mrs. Barnes,” Mr. Clifford said. “So the word on the street is true?”

“What word?” you asked and he smiled.

“That you’re…not just a guest?”

Bucky raised his brows and shot you a small grin while you shrugged your shoulders.

“No, I’m not.”

“She’s the only one I trust,” Bucky said and you smirked, reaching out to hold his hand. Mr. Clifford nodded.

“I see,” he said. “And um—if you don’t mind me ask, will it affect any deals I may make with your father?”

“You will have to ask my father that,” you said. “I hear he’s not open to any new deals but you can try your chances.”

He hummed. “And his heir, Ian?”

Your jaw clenched but you managed to keep your expression flat while Bucky squeezed your hand as if trying to assure you.

“Ian hasn’t been named yet,” he said. “And either way, if you’re making deals with heirs, I may have to rethink my decision to do business with you. Are you that much of an amateur?”

“Bucky.”

“No, I’m not going to do business with him if he’s making deals with people who can’t sit at the grown-ups table.” 

“I assure you, that’s not the case,” Mr. Clifford said. “I was just voicing my curiosity, that’s all.”

You downed your drink and leaned in to whisper into Bucky’s ear.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. “Don’t shoot him?”

“No promises,” he murmured and you tried to bite back your smile, then grabbed your purse and stood up to make your way through the dance floor to the bathroom. When you stepped out again, your eyes fell upon Ryan who was by the bar and you smiled to yourself, then approached the bar as well.

“I think you’re the only person who drinks water at a club opening,” you said, making him turn his head and he blinked a couple of times as if he was surprised to see you, then looked down at the glass in his hand.

“Ma’am,” he said, taking a sip of his water and you tilted your head.

“Let me guess,” you said. “Ian told you to be completely sober just in case?”

“It’s my idea, ma’am.”

“Where’s he?”

“In the VIP room there,” he motioned at the closest room and you pulled your brows together.

“And he sent you away?”

Ryan sipped his water in silence and you heaved a sigh.

“Does he know that keeping his right arm out of deals is a terrible idea?”

“I’m just his bodyguard ma’am, nothing more.”

You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat.

“You might as well dance with someone, you know,” you joked. “If he’s going to be there alone, no need for you to get bored.”

The look of complete terror on his face at the suggestion was almost funny. He was a huge guy, and you were pretty sure he could crush someone’s skull with his bare hands if he wanted to, but he looked absolutely terrified at the idea of dancing with someone at the club.

“I’m a great wing-woman,” you told him, making him blink a couple of times. “Anyone caught your attention?”

“Ma’am I—I wouldn’t—” he stammered and you waved a hand in the air.

“And how many times should I tell you to call me Y/N?” you asked and he licked his lips, staring at you.

“I don’t mean disrespect.”

“I don’t think it’s disrespect,” you told him and out of the corner of your eye, you saw the waiter leaving your VIP room mutter something at one of Clifford’s bodyguards by the door before walking away. You frowned.

“Excuse me,” you said as you made your way to the fire exit the waiter walked into. You looked over your shoulder and pulled the small pistol out of your purse, then pushed open the door quietly to step into the hallway.

The waiter was too busy to notice your presence as he pulled a gun out of the cleaning bucket in front of him, but he froze when he heard the sound of you cocking the gun.

“Hi,” you said and he gritted his teeth, raising his hands. “Put the gun down.”

He slowly put the gun down and you smiled.

“There you go,” you said. “Good boy.”

“What are you doing?” he asked as he turned to you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I mean I’m trying to enjoy my night to be honest but…”

“Just walk away.”

You scoffed.

“Right,” you said. “That’s gonna happen.”

“If you walk away now, you’ll benefit from it,” he said. “Mr. Clifford says if Barnes dies, you could take over his territory, his business. It’ll be your right.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Well yeah but also if Bucky dies, I’ll have to wear black and I can’t really pull off black dresses,” you said. “Becca says it has something to do with my undertone—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he lunged to throw a punch at you but you caught his hand and twisted it, making him cry out in pain. You headbutted him right in the nose, hearing the crack of the bone before you grabbed the bigger pistol on the floor to slam it against his head, causing him to drop to the floor unconscious.

“This night is getting more and more fun,” you murmured as you shook your head, then pushed your pistol back into your purse. You made your way to the door again to open it, then approached Ryan to tap him on the shoulder.

“Can I borrow you for a moment?” you asked and turned around without waiting for him to answer, but he followed you anyway until you got to the hallway and opened the door. Ryan grabbed his gun from his waistband the moment he saw the unconscious guy lying on the floor, then turned to you.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, stepping into the hallway with his gun ready, checking for any threats. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not at all,” you said. “Keep an eye on him until I get back.”

His back straightened immediately like he was a soldier and you were his commander. “Yes ma’am.”

“And if Ian says anything,” you said. “This happened in Barnes territory, he’s our hostage. No one else’s.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You nodded your head and took a step to the door, then turned around.

“And thank you, Ryan,” you said, making him pull his brows together in confusion as if he wasn’t used to hearing it. “I appreciate it.”

He swallowed thickly, then nodded.

“Ma’am,” he said and you pushed open the door, then made your way to the VIP room Bucky was in.

“As I was saying, our price isn’t…” Clifford stopped talking when he saw you walk inside. “Ah Mrs. Barnes, welcome back.”

You shot him a fake smile, then leaned in closer to Bucky so that you could whisper into his ear.

“He’s trying to kill you.”

Bucky’s gaze snapped to yours when you pulled back and he heaved a sigh as if he was exhausted, then ran a hand over his eyes.

“Great,” he muttered. “Do you want to stay and watch, sweetheart?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“I got one of his men, I’ll be by the fire exit,” you murmured. “Come there when you’re done?”

“Sure thing.”

“What’s going on?” Clifford asked and you turned to shoot him a glare before pecking Bucky on the cheek.

“Have fun!”

“I will,” Bucky said and motioned at one of the bodyguards. “Paul, escort my wife to where she’s going.”

“Yes Mr. Barnes.”

“And Hannah,” Bucky’s voice was completely calm. “Lock the room down.”

“Mr. Barnes, please—” Clifford’s voice was cut off when the door shut behind you and Bucky’s bodyguards started dragging Clifford’s men away while you turned to Paul with a sigh.

“How fucking rude, right?”

“Ma’am?”

“I mean honestly…” you muttered while you walked to the fire exit with Paul following you. “Sending an amateur to kill him? People today have no manners.”

Chapter 21