#but I also can wait iykwim

[chrollosnenfish]

The new trailer looks absolutely insane!

First of all, everyone (especially Nanami, Choso and Gojo) looks ten times hotter than last season. The art style and animation change this season are to die for.

that Miwa scene was so hype too!

Kenny looks seductive as always, and Megumi looks really pretty too.

That Gojo panting scene 😩🫣

And the fact that really close to the end you get to see Sukky’s fire arrow 🔥🔥🔥

If I see more people hating on the animation or art style of this new season I will legitimately lose it, it’s absolutely gorgeous😍

I can’t wait for the wholesomeness that is the Shibuya arc 🤗🤗🤗

[hauntingblue]

ENIES LOBBY TIME!!!

Sanji's face here.... he Knows he is going to fuck him up

THAT IS SANJI??? 😨

Holding them in my hands again....

Sanji struck a nerve there akdjaoajkq

Increible trio btw.... look at the evidence

............ me next please 🙏🏻

That is love right there I can see it

What if we all killed ourselves (except usopp is telling her the opposite ajahkdhsakjd)

I need sanji to go insane like this more often.... after the timeskip it doesn't happen as much and I love to see him suffering

This is so funny.... there is no denying to her face card

"It's not like she actually wants to die" well yes she does, but no because you know she doesn't really. It is in a quantum state right now

Luffy is such a menace akdhaksjkaak

TELL EM!!!! THAT'S MY GIRL!!!!

Look at franky worrying about robin.... do not fret luffy is coming and he will NOT lose!!!!!

This is zoro remarking how usopps fear of being left behind makes no sense.... this is so good.....

This is so endearing but it also breaks my heart....

Who is that sultry binch... (I don't recall this attack AT ALL and i'm sure we never see it again)

They botched his bbl.... 😔😔😔

Luffy's face here... he was convinced she wanted to go with them but was compelled to do otherwise but no.... he thought wrong and he can't fight to her.... I've just been staring at this page for minutes like damn.

Nevermind.... this is something your mother would say "you want to die??? Just wash the dishes and you can do whatever you want later"

"If you wanna die, or whatever...." this is so good like he knows what he is doing.... he Knows.... look at her face. After knowing how luffy and ace were as kids this just makes more sense (oda didn't think about this i'm sure but damn does it fit) also the slight manipulation.... look at all of us we're already here and look how we all miss you already... you know that post about luffy being selfish but his selfishness is jusg kindness to others... yesh

Thinking about robin's cinderella lifestyle.... why did her mother leave her with that aunt and why didn't some archeologist take her in?? Because she doesn't complain about anything just like she doesn't respond when that mother accused her of hitting her child without reason... that's so fucked

Alright this is funny (and also true)... I'm sorry fellow women....

*Justin Bieber voice* I like your laugh... dereishi shishishi

SHE'S GONNA ASK HER MOM TO TAKE HER TO THE SEA WITH HER??? LIKE SHE DOES AFTER WITH LUFFY??? MY GOD!!! I just bursted into tears like I got punched in the nose I can't keep going ajdhakajk

I lied i can keep going... but head in my hands over this....

Find out how my emotional stability survives this arc in ennies lobby part 2. coming soon

[xinganhao]

🎭 svt when idol!reader releases a breakup song.

anon → "may i request when idol!s/o releases a breakup song? maybe for like a promotion or a comeback but not because of svt iykwim"

⌗ ┆ i have a soft spot for my earlier idol!reader work so it was fun to revisit them <3 a little more crack, less headcanons than usual lol

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: idol!reader, f!reader, established relationship, pet names, fluff, crack, [short] headcanons under the cut.

🎭 headcanons .ᐟ

— drama line ✩ seungcheol, junhui, mingyu, vernon.

all the boys are bound to kick up a fuss one way or another, but nobody throws a tantrum like choi seungcheol. that man will be on your case for weeks. "why couldn't it have been a love song? why are you so good at singing about breakups?" junhui is equally dramatic, though in a different manner. he goes down the route of spite. the song is officially banned in the dorms. if anyone plays it in his vicinity, he will honest-to-goodness glare them down. as far as he's concerned, you have no reason to be crooning about situationships when you have a perfectly good partner waiting for you at home! mingyu is in the exact same boat, by the way. he is personally offended. he knows he's been a good boyfriend. and you're out here singing like he's broken your heart? oh, hell no. mingyu is going to get ridiculously over the top with his boyfriendisms to prove a point to— well, maybe just to himself. in contrast to the rest, vernon takes a different approach. a little moral high road, if you will. he doesn't whine about it, but he does get— in the other boys' words— 'emo' about the whole thing. an instagram rebrand? frank ocean being one of his top artists of the month? ... you get the picture.

— sweetheart line ✩ joshua, soonyoung, wonwoo, seokmin, minghao, seungkwan.

a good number of the boys would take the breakup song with relative grace. joshua is aware that it's strictly work, but he doesn't miss out on the opportunity to tease you a bit about it. he'll take any opportunity to remind you of how much he cares about you, even if it is in a roundabout sort of way. wonwoo usually errs more on the side of rationality, too, though this breakup song scares him just a teensy bit. he doesn't bother you about it; he'll cope in his own little way until he comes around. (he's not opposed to reaffirmations of your love, though.) at this point? soonyoung and seungkwan can be a comedy act, really. we have soonyoung apologizing for every little thing he's done, just so he can ascertain that you will not be writing about him in your next album. and then we have seungkwan who assumes the song is a not-so subliminal message of some sorts; he is immensely relieved when you tell him that you're not, in fact, ending things via comeback. and the sweetest of them all. seokmin doesn't care if it's a four minute song. he'll take apart every single lyric, offering you reassurances that you don't even need, until you have a hard time performing the song with sincerity because your boyfriend has made it much less convincing. meanwhile, minghao spends hours ruminating before just asking outright. he's a bit shy at the fact that he's potentially overthought this, although he'd much rather be overprepared on being a good boyfriend than fall on the other end of the coin.

— revenge line ✩ jeonghan, jihoon, chan.

did you think jeonghan was kidding about couple's therapy? absolutely not. booking a session for the two of you is, in part, a joke, sure. but he's also a believer in therapy, anyway, so it becomes one of your... admittedly weirder dates, but there are certainly worse ways to unpack this non-issue. jihoon and chan stick to what they know best. jihoon's teasing of a 'response' song just means that there's going to be a certain track in the next mini-album that may or may not answer the questions/refute the claims/reassures the worries of your breakup ballad. he's classy that way. chan, on the other hand, has a lot less finesse. he's not so subtle in the way he literally makes up a routine— is it a slow song? he'll do contemporary, then!— and posts it for everyone to see. he needs everyone to know that he is unbothered. flourishing. in his lane.

[lowkeyren]

—my muse, my cure.

in which : both you and jiaoqiu are deeply concerned about each other's health but have an unconventional way of showing it.

pairing : jiaoqiu x gn!reader

wc 850, established relationship, 2.5 spoilers woops (but this isn't angst trust), also ib by an iconic line in 2.5 iykwim, art by @/Lianzi_ on x, reblogs r much appreciated!!!

how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?

being a picky eater isn't easy, especially when you have a sly fox like jiaoqiu in your kitchen.

you think you're safe when you see a simple, mouthwatering dish; but with him, there's always a catch. beneath the savoury aroma of perfectly cooked meatballs or the comforting warmth of a soup, he hides the things you avoid —finely diced peppers, a hint of spice, or icky vegetables you swore you’d never touch.

jiaoqiu doesn’t say a word, but the way his ears twitch gives him away. he watches with a subtle, knowing grin as you take a bite, waiting for you to realize what he’s done. though by the time you do notice, it’s already too late. despite your best efforts, the subtle icky flavour of green peppers have already permeated your taste buds.

“you didn’t even notice, did you?” he teases, his voice laced with mischief.

you shoot him a glare as you reluctantly finish the dish, the flavours blending together so seamlessly that you almost forget what you were trying to avoid in the first place. (seems like his culinary skills managed to win you over once again)

“that’s not very polite of you, doctor.” 

jiaoqiu’s smile widens at your response. “ah, come on now,” he says, feigning a hurt expression. “it's all in good fun. besides, you know those peppers are packed with vitamins. it’s good for you.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your irritation still simmering. “well, just because your dish turned out good, don’t think i’m letting you off the hook that easily,” you say, rolling your eyes, though a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

jiaoqiu only chuckles at your response, clearly amused. “i see how it is,” his tone taking on a teasing lilt as he steps a little closer, “you best stay on your guard then, dearest.” 

“how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?” the answer is quite simple. chop the peppers and mix them with minced meat to make meatballs, allowing the meat’s flavor to mask the peppers so even your fussy spouse can enjoy them.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine?

being a doctor isn't easy, especially when you’re injured and your partner is more worried about your own health than you are.

“qiu’er, i’m back!” the sound of your voice instantly draws his attention, he turns his head in your direction, the subtle rustle of sheets accompanying his movement. the bed dips slightly under your weight as you settle beside him, the warmth of your presence soothing. “here, i brought you some tea,” you murmur. 

“careful, it’s hot.” you gently lift the cup to his lips, the steam rising and carrying with it the sweet, spiced scent of cinnamon —he immediately notices the strong overpowering smell right away.

ah… cinnamon? so you took his advice from years ago, but unfortunately a fox’s senses are sharper than most. 

his nose scrunches slightly as the liquid gently brushes against his lips. “spiked my tea with something, dearest?” you pause, setting the cup down with a soft clink. though just as you’re about to retort, his hand reaches out, searching for you with a gentle touch. his fingers graze your arm, then find your hand, which he clasps with a tender grip.

“cinnamon is excellent for masking strong odors and is even used to conceal the scent of poison... but you wouldn’t be so cruel to me, would you?” he remarks with a playful smile, though there’s an ironic edge to his words, given his current condition.

you let out an exasperated sigh, “you wouldn’t take your medicine, qiu’er. i never thought you’d be such a stubborn doctor.” 

he chuckles softly, the sound low and a little raspy. “stubborn? i prefer ‘selective.’” his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “and i chose to have you as my doctor.” 

“if it means i get to be the one who takes care of you, then i’ll gladly accept that,” you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “now get some rest —doctor’s orders.” you help him settle back on the bed, careful not to accidentally press on his bandaged wounds, before gently pulling the sheets up to cover him.

you lean down to kiss the crown of his head, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing, rhythmic motion. “i’m only following your orders, baobei,” he mumbles softly, his words trailing off as he drifts into a peaceful sleep.

today the sun may blaze brightly in the sky, but its brilliance fades next to the warmth of your smile, a light that, though he may not be able to see, touches his heart more profoundly than the brightest day ever could.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine? easy. disguise it in a comforting cup of tea, masking the bitterness with cinnamon, so even he won’t notice until it’s too late. of course, your tricks never really fool him, but he lets you win anyway.

homeboy has been through so much

MASTERLIST.

[hallasimss]

might get off my ass and make a proper intro post... we shall see

[unluckilyimnot]

OMG I JUST NOTICED YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN THAT JUST MADE MY DAY!!!!

anyways can you do headcanons for bllk character introducing you to either their teams or the press iykwim

pretty please I loveeeee your posts so much <333333

Introducing their s/o to their team - isagi, kaiser, rin, hiori, chigiri

m.list | rules

Note : Hiii you're so cute lslsls thank you sm for your request <3 I chose this one cause somebody else asked about the press finding out so I'll do both !

Nobody is mentioned so I'll choose but feel free to ask for your fav ! 

Isagi 

He's so shy but happy omg

He's probably blushing if they keep saying how pretty you are 

Those who ask a bit more about you earlier to isagi will probably start a conversation more easily 

But you love to talk with everyone!

If you're famous, they'll ask about it or how you two meet or even about your job 

But if you're someone like you and me they're begging to know how you two meet 

They're probably expect something really cheesy based on isagi himself 

He probably get teased a lot afterwards but he takes it easy 

he’s just so happy you can finally meet them 

Rin 

he’s pretty but awful so everybody think he’s bitchless

no need to say that they GASPED when he introduced you

you seem so sweet, what are you doing here ?

“He paid you ?” i definitely see some of them ask you that - like bachira 

wait until you tell them that you asked him and he wasn’t planning of doing without you mentioning it 

they’re shocked, they feel betrayed and are ready to make a scene to him before you calm it down 

everybody want to know more about you, asking you lot of questions to the point that rin has to claim you back 

holding your waist or wrist to remind you that he’s there too 

I think it goes more simply that he imagined at first 

He's always happy when they ask about you even if he doesn’t show it

Chigiri 

just like that time they react when they saw his sister, they will ask him who you are even if it’s obvious that you’re his s/o 

one or two would probably ask you out on a date to make him mad - tbh it’s really funny to see

he’ll blush and become protective over you, adorable 

he would roll his eyes at their jokes but as long as you’re laughing at them, it’s fine with him

he’ll get tease by the gaze he sent you all night, sweet and soft, speaking all the love he has for you before his tongue can 

he’s a bit cash if they’re doing to much though, they have to be careful around his lover 

Hiori

he talks about you regularly so they’re all happy when he mentions that you’ll tag along for a team meal they’re HYPE

they’re so happy to see you it’s cute, you wish every partner is welcome that way 

you’re so soft spoken it totally make sense that you ended up with him 

you’re probably a little reserved and overwhelmed at first but they’re calmer than you thought 

it’s also a lot funnier than you thought so, even if you stay glued to hiori’s side, you can enjoy the night to the fullest ! 

he checks on you frequently, catching a lot of eyes and they make sure to let him know 

you two are just so cute for sure damn couple goal 

Kaiser 

ness is jealous lmao 

he’s very cocky and proud to introduce you to them 

you’re so precious and most importantly : you’re his - he can’t just keep it to himself 

sharing the world about you start with his teammates

he’ll tell them how you two meet and how you fall in love with him - as if he wasn’t the one down bad - with his arm around your shoulders to keep you close 

he trusted them but they can’t touch <3 even in a friendly way 

you’re really welcome though, they’re all very interested in you and your life/job 

it goes pretty smoothly, even if ness is a little salty 

Sae 

he’s reluctant to say the least, he knows he won’t see the end of it 

you’re amazing, he loves you unconditionally

but you’re so good like that that he knows he will have to deal with them asking how you’re doing and he doesn’t like it 

he says yes anyway, and one day he brings you with him at an unofficial meeting 

they’re so shocked but happy to see you in real life (you’re on his lock screen) : they want to know everything

sae is a rather intimate person and doesn’t talk much about his personal life so you’re the one who will tell them the cheesy stuff

yes you received death glares, you you still answer them with a big smile 

you’re funny, they already really love you and they can’t wait to see you more around

I hope you liked it !

[hellsslibrary]

sub...Michael Kaiser...with male reader...please...I'm begging...

Just saw the latest chapter and him saying "please" made me simultaneously combust.

What if he says that word but on a completely different context, iykwim 👀👀👀👀

"In an ideal relationship, pure love and dirty sex complement each other, not exclude each other."

#a.n. : You can't imagine how much fun it was to write this, different sides of the dominant were fighting inside me, it was wild.

MASTERLIST is here.

!!Warnings: top!dom!male!reader, sub!bottom!Michael, brat taming, humiliation, light strangulation, dry orgasm, you dig Kaiser to the point of half death, reader breaks the bed and unironically fights Alexis for a place in the hotel with Michael by playing tic-tac-toe (mention, I thought it was funny), Kaiser is literally folded in half, one bite to his ankle and a slight mention of blood, three phrases in German (my half-German roots take over), riding.

It was obviously not a revelation to Kaiser why this had started. He had started to understand it the moment you almost fought Ness to share a hotel room with him. After all, you, as adults and completely mentally ill people, played tic-tac-toe and you beat Alexis. After all, he could survive a couple of nights not in a room with Michael, but you? Oh no, you had too big of a plan for him.

He had figured it out himself, as soon as he saw that you were actually focused on winning this stupid game and not playing for fun... But I guess he didn't understand what exactly was waiting for him. Although that's the best part.

"G-gott! Y/n, slow d-down! This is, oh shit, this is too mu-much!" came out unintelligibly from his lips, while he grabbed the sheets beneath him with all his might, his graceful fingers almost tearing apart the poor fabric that was holding on with all its might.

"Are you sure?" you clarify, knowing he won’t answer because he doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want to seem too needy.

And so he does. He stays silent, burying his face in the pillows and pushing his ass back a little more to somehow meet your ruthless thrusts that didn’t allow him to breathe properly.

You squeeze his hips, pressing lightly on his stomach under your fingers, causing him to whine loudly, even muffled by the cotton pillowcases. His toned ass jiggles slightly with each thrust, making you want to bite one of his cheeks right now, but oh, what a shame the human body can’t bend like that, huh?

Kaiser felt too good as you admired his ass and his bulging back without any other thought. He felt like his whole being was melting, turning into nothing more than obedient plasticine in your hands, which you could bend as you wish.

He bites his lip to hold back another moan. It seems like he can hear his heartbeat in every part of his body, no matter how unimportant or far from his head. It seems like his blood is so hot that he is about to melt... Not that it is not true, considering how sweaty you both have been for the last few dozen minutes.

"Aren't you going to answer me, handsome? Or do you want me to stop and leave you empty and thirsty, hm?" your whisper sends involuntary goosebumps down his body when he realizes that your chest is rubbing against his back and he makes some kind of sound similar to hiccups, turning his head to the side.

"Shut up."

The phrase made your hips freeze almost immediately, your eyebrow involuntarily crawling up at the fact that he had the strength to speak clearly, and also to act like a complete brat, when you were obviously lifting him to Heaven and back with your actions.

"Move, idiot. Why the hell did you stop?"

Your eye twitched and you took a deep breath, looking down at his frowning, flushed face. There were traces of moisture all over his face from tears and sweat mixed together, his lips were slightly swollen from holding back moans, but most importantly, his eyes. The shine in them. He knew what he was doing, or rather, what he was saying.

Before he could come to his senses, your lips spread into an almost animalistic smile and your cock completely slipped out of him. Kaiser was about to complain, but you abruptly flip him over onto his back, and then immediately, without warning, you penetrate inside.

His next moan was probably heard by everyone in the hotel, or at least on your floor. And all the following ones, too. He was no longer holding back, moaning at the top of his lungs. His hands were looking for something to grab onto and wanted to close around your shoulders, but you would not allow him such luxury, so you squeezed his palms above his head.

"What a pity. If you want to act like a little slut, then I will have to treat you like one," you lean right over his face, sliding out so that only your tip remains inside him, and then penetrate in the roughest way you can.

"Ohhh, ple-please... Ple-please, fuck, s-sir, I b-beg yo-you... P-please!"

He himself did not understand what he was begging for, while you just let out a chuckle from this. Michael could barely form any coherent words, he was just mumbling obvious nonsense now.

Your fingers squeezed the blond's leg at his knee, throwing one of his legs over your shoulder, practically folding him in half. He muttered something unintelligible, tears starting to flow from his closed eyes while his hands clenched into fists helplessly in your grip.

"What? You decided to fix yourself in a couple of seconds, handsome? That's not like you. My dick makes you drunk?" he would never admit that it did, but his head shook in agreement too convulsively.

You bite his ankle, digging into the white skin, causing him to cry out in pain, but he doesn't complain. He just stares excitedly at the small trickle of blood rolling down his leg. Your free hand, not holding his hand, falls on his neck.

And God, something clicks inside him. He cums, but nothing comes out, in that same second, although your hand did not have time to settle down and squeeze properly. You only look at the pathetic state of the German while he experiences a dry orgasm and how his cock twitches.

"What a pity... Although you are a smart boy. Even without realizing anything, you do not dare to cum for real without my permission..." Michael only moans in response, not being able to say anything anymore, especially now that you are blocking part of his air.

"Please, Y-y/n," he manages to mumble somehow, looking at you with empty, smoky eyes, hazed with a haze of lust, and you feel how he squeezes around your cock. Probably on purpose, but now you do not care.

"Please what, baby? You have to speak clearly," he frowns, looking away and staring at some tasteless painting on the wall, trying to pull some kind of speech out of his brain.

"Let me cum... Bitte, mein schatz," Kaiser whines, managing to somehow rise up, although it is clearly uncomfortable and even painful for him, given the position he is in, and kissing the corner of your lips, missing the main target. "Bitte lass mich abspritzen, lass mich auf deinen Schwanz abspritzen..."

You feel something break inside you. He looked beautiful and didn't even seem embarrassed as usual by his obvious vulnerability and the state of some kind of toy in your hands. In the end, he even found the strength to kiss you and didn't even wince at the fact that he literally bent in half for a couple of seconds. Well, how can you not spoil such a boy, right?

His head falls back, he sighs raggedly when you begin to pound him with the maximum speed and roughness you can muster right now. The bed beneath you creaks pitifully, as does Kaiser himself, not expecting such pressure.

"Dann komm, Hübscher," your words send him over the edge immediately, squeezing your cock as if in a vice.

He paints your and his stomach white, cumming surprisingly much. And he doesn't react at all when you continue your thrusts with a same force, only small sighs escaping from his lips.

But then he screams and something cracks under you. You manage to catch him and throw his leg aside carefully but quickly, and press him to your chest.

"You... Managed to break the bed? Wow, new even for you," Michael mutters, watching the mattress and sheets sag in the hole in the bed, chuckling hoarsely and weakly hugging your shoulders now that he has this opportunity.

"I'll ask to change the room and pay for the bed... I don't even want to imagine the face of the girl at the reception, but..." You look up at the blond, who is now sitting on your lap and thoughtfully narrow your gaze.

"Ride you? Good," he understands what is needed, feeling that you have not yet finished and managed to twitch inside him even at such a moment. "You can't be trusted with the pace anymore, you're too wild... Next time we're in hotels, I'll ride you."

"Fair and sweet, I'm more than willing," he starts moving his hips, moaning with every movement, still sensitive from his orgasm, trying not to go too fast so you both don't fall off the bed... Until the broken part of the bed falls to the floor, causing a huge noise, but hey, you're facing the ace of German youth football, who cares? Especially one so rarely vulnerable and caring like this.

[kisses4tom]

i don’t know if your request are open but i just wanna ask, can you do a headcanon of tom x model!reader. like the readers on vogue or she models for lingerie

ᡣ𐭩 TOM WITH A MODEL GIRLFRIEND

───────────────

omg i love this requesttt 😭 i hope you like it! and sorry for disappearing but school is slowly killing me 😻💕

───────────────

oh boy he's OBSESSED with you

always buying your magazines

would hang up posters of you on his wall

loves to attend your catwalks and is the loudest in the crowd for you

he pretty much doesn't pay attention to the other models, he's just waiting for you

he's literally Dylan Sprouse (iykyk, a whole ass green forest)

istg he would look at you like this

he's would uhm...please himself with pictures of you...

LOVES to take you photos

and also likes to exchange photos 😀iykwim (freaky ahh)

let's just say he's very pleased with your body type since you're a model and he's really into curves and stuff like that (idk how to word it but if you've seen some of his interviews you probably understand)

makes sure everyone knows you're his

you have a lot of public appeal so he's both jealous and worried people would go too far

makes sure you don't turn your job into something toxic

LOVES when you model for lingerie, but only when he gets the photos lmfao

he's kind of jealous ofc

likes to surprise and visit you during fittings and photoshoots

obviously you also attend a bunch of his concerts, and he's more than happy to see you in the crowd

always locking eyes and getting nervous/shy to the point he has to look away and focus on his guitar 🤭

Bill obviously likes to tease him with: "excuse my brother, he's very busy looking in that particular direction!"

loves when you run backstage into his arms after (especially because you don't care if he's as sweaty as a dog)

I'd say his pda level is a 6-7/10, but if he's a little jealous (doesn't matter the reason) he's a solid 8-9/10

In his eyes you're the goddess of beauty (which you are pookie! 🤭💞)

Since he's so obsessed with you, he probably makes sure to please you most in bed

he's not really into dirty talking, but he definitely gives you some words of appreciation like "you're so fucking pretty", "you're perfect", "i'm so lucky", "this is all for me, right?"

Because of tour and different schedules, sometimes you're apart for a long time. But he never misses a chance to call and Skype you whenever he can!

he's so proud that you're his girl

Flirts with you 24/7

He would remind you everyday not to listen to the obsessed fans who give you hate for being his girlfriend

He would do the thumb thingy when holding hands or cuddling

He would flip off the paparazzi if he catches them say something mean to/about you

sometimes he would disapprove of your dresses/clothes if they're too revealing

in conclusion, he's your number 1 fan 🥳

[heizlut]

here for the specific kink event hehe (love that idea tbh)

This will be quite specific but anygays- cnc dacryphilia mixed with slight degrading praises for Dom!Kazuha

Iykwim, like it's cnc connected with tears (dacryphilia) but he's not fully degradation, he's gentle :(

thank you anon!! i completely get what you mean and i can see kazuha acting like this for sure 😩 i love him forever (p.s.: hope you don’t mind i added a little fear-play as well)

The Cries of a Dove

cw: dark content, cnc, dacryphilia, fear-play, slight degradation, public sex (even though they’re completely alone it’s still outside)

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!kazuha, mostly proofread

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*

Kazuha was the sweetest boyfriend. He always spoke so gently and treated you as though you were his greatest treasure. But there were moments when you just craved something more... Something darker. Your eyes flit to where Kazuha was sitting under a large maple tree, making soft music with small leaf. He always looked so peaceful and you loved him for who he was, but again, you wanted to see another side of him.

The leaves crunch under your feet and you sit down beside him. Kazuha removes the leaf from between his lips and gives you the most heart-melting smile, "Hello, my dove." You smile and rest your head on his shoulder and let out a sigh. His features twist into mild concern, "Is everything alright?" Now was your chance to speak up. Keeping your head on his shoulder, you look up at him, "Promise me you won't think I'm strange for this..."

Kazuha's soft laughter fills the warm air around you, "I would never think you're strange no matter what you told me." You huff out a breath, "So I've been wanting to try something...different." Kazuha waits patiently for you to continue. "Do you think you could... be more rough with me? Like...take me whenever you wanted without my permission first?" He blinks, processing your words in his head. You bury your head in his shoulder from embarrassment, "Say something..."

Kazuha places his fingers under your chin, "Look at me, dove." You hesitantly look up at him and he smiles, "I'll do it." Your mouth hangs open, "You will...?" He kisses your nose, "When have I ever denied you?"

Later that evening, you and Kazuha were walking through the ruins of Higi Village. The red leaves from the trees rustle in the breeze and the wooden ruined houses creak making shiver run up your spine. Kazuha squeezes your hand gently, "Scared?" You give him a pointed look that makes him chuckle. Kazuha pauses which stops you both in your tracks. His finger goes to his lips, letting you know to stay quiet as he whispers, "I think something is here. Stay put."

With that, he releases your hand, leaving you standing there with speechless. Kazuha disappears behind one of the houses and you look around cautiously for any signs of what he thought was out there. Minutes pass by and you begin to pace, lost in worried thoughts that he was taking way too long for your liking. Your thoughts are cut off by the sound of a snapping branch, from behind you. You whip around with wide eyes, your heart racing, "Kazuha?" Silence...

You look around anxiously when suddenly a hand clasps over you mouth and a hard body presses up behind you, a strong arm wraps around your waist. The sound of your scream muffled in his hand, struggling to get of the hold you were in. "Shhhh... You're too noisy", a hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine, but the familiar voice makes you begin to calm down. You breathe heavily into his hand that remained over your mouth, unsure of what exactly was going on.

Kazuha's free hand snakes down your body and takes its place on your hip, giving it a squeeze as he rolls his hips into you. "Stop, Kazu...", your voice muffled and also shaky from the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. "You don't get a say in this, my dove...", his voice a husky whisper as his fingers dance along your inner thigh, creeping towards your sensitive clit.

You inhale sharply when Kazuha moves your panties to the side and begins slowly toying with your clit, pinching then rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. You let out a small moan, the sound catching in his other hand that had yet to remove itself from your mouth. Kazuha huffs a small laugh, "You like this? Letting some man play with your little pussy... You haven't been able to turn to see that it's really me yet. I could be anyone right now..."

Your eyes flutter and you whimper at his words. He was right. If you hadn't recognized his voice and knew it was him, you would be helplessly moaning into some stranger's hand as he toyed with you. Kazuha runs a finger through your slick, "What's this? Are you turned on by the idea of a stranger having his way with you?" His tone was teasing, but condescending.

Kazuha slips two fingers into your warm, wet core, pressing them against the spot that had you melting into him. His fingers pump in and out of your pussy, continuously pressing the same spot over and over. The feeling made your legs shake. The whole situation was not one that you expected and it was overwhelming.

You stumble when Kazuha removes his fingers and pushes you forward. Your hands catch you from falling face-first into that ruined wooden wall of the abandoned home in front of you. You hear the sound of rustling clothes behind you and soon feel his hardened cock land on your ass. Your heart races again. You knew it was Kazuha, but his earlier words were really messing with you. He moves his hand from your mouth, only to shove two fingers into it, making you drool and whine around them.

It catches him off guard when he feels something wet run down his hand. Keeping his fingers in your mouth, Kazuha tilts your head back so he could look at your face. Something inside his twists when he sees you had begun to cry, but he wasn't going to stop now, "Really, my dove? Tears? This is what you wanted." You cry out when he slams himself into your pussy with virtually no warning. Your cunt squeezed him so tight, he had to put in extra effort to fuck the way he wanted to.

His voice is hoarse and low when he speaks again, "Look at the way this pussy swallows up my cock~ Such a pretty view." Kazuha bucks up into you switching from fast and hard, to slow drags of his cock within your walls. Drool spills from your lips, coating his fingers and down your chin. The noises you were making were pathetic almost as you whimpered and moaned each time he buried himself deep within you.

Endless praises fell from Kazuha's lips, the feeling of being inside you in such a scenario made him crazy for you, "My little dove takes my cock so well. Squeezing around me like you're trying to milk me for all I'm worth... Such a pretty little thing all helpless just for me -fuck-" Tears spilled down your cheeks, your adrenaline making you feel more sensitive than usual as you cum hard around his cock. Kazuha groans at the sensation and fucks into you hard, chasing after his own release.

Kazuha's body curls against yours as he releasing inside of you. His cock throbbing to the beat of his heart as he comes down from his bliss. A mix of cum leaks out when he pulls away. Kazuha takes his fingers out of your mouth and turns you around to face him. What a sight you were with reddened cheeks and glassy eyes that stared up at him in a daze. He gently rubs his thumb across your cheek, taking some tears with it and gives you sweet smile that held a hint of concern, "Are you alright, my dove?" You nod, trying to process everything, "You scared me a little, but I kind of enjoyed it... So thank you for giving into my request." Kazuha takes your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, "Anything for my little dove."

ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*

a/n: dear god, when is it my turn

[joostsblog]

HEYYAAAAA, idrk if ur takin requests right now, if u want u can discard this BUT HERES THE THING!!!!! recently my tiktok fyp has been showing a lot of hand holding like in bed (iykwim, like holding hands while fucking) and such. even in outdoors too. AND I'VE BEEN DYINGGGGGGG to imagine how it would be with aggu && reader, like oh my god🤭🤭🤭🤭 the main request here: reader just really likes to hold aggu's hands whether they're fucking or hanging out for a date, practically just loves clinging to his body!!@!1!11!! THANK YOU!

your wish is my comand :) this is part two of picnic day which I've renamed to caught in the middle and there will be more parts! read part one here

caught in the middle part two: fingers intertwined ~ a Ski Aggu / Joost Klein x reader series

My masterlist here ✨💌 caught in the middle series masterlist here

Pairing: Ski Aggu x female!reader (+ Joost Klein x female!reader)

Description: When you and Aggu are finally alone, you continue exactly where you left off.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: So this makes "picnic day" (now called "caught in the middle") officially a series! there will be more joost x reader in the future parts btw

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, nsfw, oral (m receiving), protected sex, piv, swearing, not proofread

Aggu's hand lay in yours as you walked along the road to your place. Your friends were still at the park but the both of you couldn't get to a place alone any sooner. It took two hours of subtle touches to each other's arms and thighs and stolen grins before Aggu conjured up an excuse for why he had to leave earlier. "Actually, I'm also gonna bounce, I've got a bit of a headache," you had jumped at the opportunity.

"Alright, we know what's going on," Bianca had said with a knowing smile and your other friends laughed along. Except for Joost who seemed to be a little off the whole day. You had tried talking to him about your plans for your visit to Amsterdam but he just didn't seem very interested.

But you couldn't pay him much mind right now anyway. Not with Aggu's strong hand in yours and your heart beating in anticipation of what those hands could do to you once you were alone at your place. You didn't have to wait long when you unlocked the door to your flat and you rushed inside, your bag dropping to the floor, his hands found your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck. You grinned up at him.

"Alright," Aggu bit his lip. "Where have we left off again?"

You took his chin into your hand and brought his face down to yours so that your lips would meet his again. He softly smiled into the kiss before his lips started moving against yours. He tightened his grip on you to bring your body closer to his. It was very sweet, you thought to yourself. It was almost as if you had been loving each other for years already. Your heart started beating faster at the thought of being with Aggu in that way. Being the one he would kiss in public, the one he would bring on tour with him, the one he would hold hands with while being out with your friends, the one he would take home every night and show just how much he loved you.

You ran your hands through his hair, almost desperately as you wished that thought would become reality somehow. As you grabbed a handful of his hair you had to stop yourself from losing yourself to this fantasy. You had to remind yourself that you had no idea whether Aggu even wanted you in this way, after all, you could also be a quick hookup to him. And just a few weeks ago you would have those thoughts about Joost anytime he would hug you or rub your shoulder gently. Aggu moaned into the kiss as you pulled at his hair and you could feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

"I need you," you mumbled against Aggu's lips and he grinned. His hand grabbed the side of your neck as his lips kissed down your jaw and neck.

"You're in luck then," he said against your skin.

You took his hand into yours and quickly led him to your bedroom. As he closed the door behind him you sat down on the edge of the bed. You looked up at Aggu with big eyes as he stood before you.

"So pretty," he mused and softly touched the side of your face, his thumb grazing your lip carefully. You grinned before you opened your lips, making Aggu's thumb slip into your mouth. You quickly wrapped your lips around Aggu's thumb and softly sucked at it. "Fuck," Aggu whispered under his breath. "I can give you something else to suck on if you want," he said and you replied with a daring grin.

Your hands flew to Aggu's belt to undo it quickly. Aggu's hands softly stroked through your hair, caressing it and tucking it behind your ears. Soon Aggu's pants were down by his ankles and you dipped your fingers into the waistband of his briefs before pulling them down as well. Your mouth watered at the sight of Aggu's thick cock, flush against his stomach. You wasted no time and placed your hands on Aggu's hips before licking up a long strip up Aggu's cock to his tip.

Aggu's head fell back with pleasure, his hands still holding your head to guide you. You wrapped your hand around the base of Aggu's cock and angled it downwards to your mouth. Your lips wrapped around Aggu's tip, your tongue playfully licking at it.

"Fuck," Aggu muttered under his breath and your lips turned into a grin around his cock.

You slowly started bobbing your head up and down his cock, your tongue quickly lapping around his tip every time you pulled back. With your other hand, you cupped his balls and started to massage them softly. Aggu's moans tumbled out of his mouth and they sounded like lullabies to your ears. The salvia on Aggu's cock mixed with his precum, his dick fully slick which made your movements even quicker and messier. You removed your hands from his cock and placed them on Aggu's upper thighs instead, your mouth now fully working on its own. As you continued sucking on his cock you could slowly feel his thighs starting to tremble under your touch, his moans growing louder and more frustrated. Suddenly you went slower, painfully slow so, and forced Aggu's dick as deep down as you could take him.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," Aggu moaned and you hummed around his dick at the sound of your name coming out of Aggu's mouth in this way. You wanted to hear him say it a thousand more times and you were ready to do whatever it took to hear it happen.

You stayed there, your mouth flush around Aggu's wide cock, his tip nudging the back of your throat. You looked up at him with big eyes. Aggu bit his lip and you could feel your panties being completely drenched in your juices. As you started to bop your head again Aggu's hand stopped you.

"Wait," he said and you were pleased to hear a tremble in his voice. "I don't wanna cum yet," he said and your heart started beating faster.

You released his cock from your mouth and propped yourself on your elbows on the bed. Looking up at Aggu with a seductive grin, you watched him devour you with his eyes. It wasn't long before he climbed on top of you and his lips kissed down your neck while his hands quickly found the hem of your top and pulled it over your head. Your bra was also promptly moved to the side and you let your head fall back in pleasure as his tongue licked over your hard nipples.

Aggu's fingers danced over the exposed skin of your stomach until he found the hem of your skirt and pushed his fingers under the soft fabric. Your chest heaved in quick breaths with anticipation of his touch. Aggu's fingers touched over your core, only the drenched fabric of your panties separating his touch from your most sensual area. Aggu moaned approvingly as he felt you through your panties. When his teeth grazed your nipple your hand quickly flew to grab Aggu's hand which he used to prop himself up on the bed, your moans also growing more high-pitched.

Aggu's fingers intertwined with yours as you laid back on the bed more and he followed your lead. His lips found yours again, your chests pressed to one another as his hips fit in between your legs, your panties the only thing barring him from entry.

"Do you have condoms here?" Aggu asked after just pulling back enough to whisper against your lips.

You nodded eagerly before leaning to the side and opening the top drawer of your nightstand. Your nervous fingers couldn't find the packet fast enough as Aggu's lips mouthed down your neck. His fingers trailed up your thighs and under your skirt. He hooked his fingers in your underwear and finally pulled them down, leaving you only in your short skirt. You quickly passed Aggu the wrapper of the condom before going to remove your skirt as well. Aggu's hands quickly stopped you.

"Can you keep it on?" he asked almost timidly. "You look so pretty like this."

Who were you to deny this man any wishes?

You watched as Aggu opened the wrapper of the condom and put it on, your chest heaving quickly as just the thought of what was about to happen almost overwhelmed you. You bit your lip as Aggu positioned himself between your legs and looked down at you with a mischievous grin.

"Please, please," you begged Aggu impatiently. You couldn't wait any longer. Aggu smiled down at you, his hand gently touching your cheek before he nudged his tip against your entrance. "Fuck," you whispered under your breath and wrapped your arms around Aggu's neck to bring his body closer to yours again. "Please fuck me already," you managed to press out.

Aggu finally slowly slid into you and your fingers dug into the skin on his back. The sensation of him filling you up completely was so heavenly you had to press your eyes shut. The touch of Aggu's hand against yours brought you back as he noticed you getting tensed up. His fingers intertwined with yours as he positioned them above your head and he propped himself up by his elbows.

As Aggu bottomed out you both let the moans fall from your mouths freely. You wrapped your legs around Aggu's hips to keep him close. His hands in yours, your eyes locked and your bodies so intimately intertwined felt way too romantic for just being two friends. But that was a problem for another day. Aggu's hips pulled back slightly before he started thrusting in and out of you, grunts leaving his mouth with each thrust. Aggu's forehead rested against yours as his cock hit all the right spots inside of you. Hearing the grunts and moans of Aggu's voice and watching his face closely as it scrunched up in pleasure only pushed you further to the edge of your orgasm which you could feel fast approaching already.

Suddenly Aggu stopped his thrusts and you started moaning frustrated. Aggu pulled out of you and his hands found your waist before he motioned you to turn around. You positioned yourself on your knees and elbows and looked over your shoulder at Aggu in anticipation. His hands roamed over the skin of your hips and ass as he pushed the fabric of your skirt up.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath and you bit down on your lip. With his hands grabbing your waist he finally pushed into you again. This position allowed him to penetrate you even deeper and as he started to thrust into you again, the tip of Aggu's cock brushed against that sweet spot towards your belly button inside of you that drove you crazy.

"Fuck, Aggu," you moaned loudly, not caring if anyone could hear you around. "feel - so good," you pushed out and Aggu thrust harder into you in response.

With his hands, he found your arms and pulled them to be crossed behind your back. Your face was pressed against the bedsheets which didn't do much to stifle your moans. The grip of Aggu's hands on your hands behind your back was forceful yet romantic and gentle at the same time. As Aggu's thrusts grew harder and faster you could feel your orgasm fast approaching until you couldn't stop it anymore. Your breath hitched and your body tensed up before the wave of pleasure rolled over you. The moans slipped from your mouth uncontrollably as Aggu continued thrusting into you until you could feel his hips falter. With a grunt and the grip on your hands tightening Aggu came into the condom before collapsing on the bed beside you.

You lay on your front trying to catch your breath. Aggu beside you, laying on his back. At just the right moment you both turned your heads to look at each other and you laughed.

"I'm gonna go shower," you stated weakly.

"Care if I join?" Aggu asked with a grin already knowing the answer.

~

A/N: Again, there will be more parts to this series, so keep your eyes peeled 🫶

[fiapartridge]

will smith dating hughes!sister headcanons! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

🕊 - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: will smith head canons! <3 🕊 - 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: not proofread, all sfw

💌 - 𝐇𝐄'𝐋𝐋 never tell the guys, but his favorite thing to do with you is wear face masks and watch romcoms. sure, at first you had to really coax him into doing it, but as time went on, he would literally wait for sundays (which is the day you two usually did it) to come.

"i'll get the movie ready, you go grab the masks," he would say before kissing you on the forehead and gently pushing you toward the bathroom.

💌 - 𝐇𝐄 has a drawer at your place just for his clothes. he also leaves a bottle of cologne at your apartment so you can spray it on his hoodies in case he's on a roadie and his clothes are losing their smell. you probably wear his clothes more than he does but he doesn't mind. he loves seeing your tiny frame get swallowed in all of the fabric, especially in his t-shirts.

💌 - 𝐘𝐎𝐔 are his personal stylist. his friends would always dog him for getting styled by you, but tbh his outfits have gotten so much better ever since you guys got together - even the fans have noticed.

💌 - 𝐎𝐍 that note, the fans have no idea you guys are together. it's not like he's embarrassed of you or is like actively trying to hide you from the public eye, he just never posts unless it's like for a brand deal or he's announcing something to his followers. you post him all the time, but you have a small, private instagram account filled with friends and family. most of the time, the comments are just your brothers clowning your guys' relationship or the bc hockey team talking about how much a simp will is for you.

💌 - 𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐎𝐑 napper/cuddler. he cannot go to sleep without you in his arms. like if you guys are in the same bed and you're far apart from him, he either thinks he did something wrong and is apologizing profusely throughout the night, or that something is wrong with you in which he is doing the most to make sure you're okay.

"do i need to turn up the ac? should i remove some blankets? why don't you want to cuddle with me?" he is a baby.

💌 - 𝐇𝐄 makes playlists for you ALL THE TIME for every single occasion. he has a "love of my life" playlist for when he's feeling extra lovey dovey, a "pls don't be mad at me anymore, i'm so so so sorry" playlist for when he fucks up (which is rare but happens), a "y/n/n" playlist for when you're in the car with him -> it's your fave songs that has also become some of his fave songs (lots of taylor swift and sabrina carpenter), and a "gains with my hot gf" playlist for when you guys are working out together, which is much less intense than his normal workouts but still makes you work up a sweat.

💌 - 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐆 off that last note, you love working out with him. he's the best personal trainer. he'll hype you up, push you harder but not too hard because he still knows your limits and your body, will do every single workout with you, and it's also a plus to just watch him work out iykwim.

💌 - 𝐘𝐎𝐔 over think soo much!! and he's like relax, we're fine, we're okay, you're not annoying me, you never annoy me, it's impossible to annoy me because he just loves when you're around him and when you're talking. like he will literally put down his phone and just listen to you talk for hours. you never have to feel clingy with him because he just always wants you. he's always reassuring you <3 his texts are the cutest 📲📲📲 :

will: stop overthinking bub will: we are ok will: i love you will: i'll be over in 10

💌 - 𝐇𝐄 loves when you have your hands in his hair. like he will literally grab your hands and bring them to his hair. like he loves that shit. like brushing it with your fingers, braiding his tiny strands, or just playing with it like he doesn't care-- he just loves it.

💌 - 𝐇𝐈𝐒 love language is physical touch and words of affirmation!!

physical touch! he loves holding your hand, having his arm around your shoulder, hugging you, kissing you, just touching you whenever he can, even if it's just having his hand on your thigh or something. your brothers ! hate it ! they always pretend to gag if they see him touch you lol, but mama hughes always shuts their shit down and tells them that you're a grown woman that can make her own choices. i love mama ellen <3

words of affirmation! he will tell you he loves you every second of every single day. he loves telling you that you're pretty, especially when you feel the opposite. he just worships you. like you're literally a goddess to him. ⭐️ "i'm happy when you're around," he would whisper into your skin when you're cuddling in bed. ⭐️ "you are the prettiest girl i've ever seen." ⭐️ "fuck, you're hot." & he would have the most shit-eating grin everrrr. like he can't believe that he gets to be with you type shit.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 in all, someone let will know that i'm here and single and ready for him whenever he's free and available <3 thank you <3

-fiapartridge

[sanzu-sanzu-sanzu]

sae being a complete math nerd endears me. that guy is into numbers!!! 😩

i know it’s not explicitly stated he’s a nerd / math enthusiast lol (i mean what else could those numbers mean?!?) but just him being like more math-oriented or more inclined towards logic and problem-solving is just fun to think about. he could be casually reading an article on game theory like it’s the morning paper just because, or he could express interest in geometry and probabilities not because he likes math explicitly, but because he sees parallels between it and football, or i imagine a small, funny moment of sae casually winning a strategic game (like poker) because of his probability skills, leaving his teammates frustrated. (he cannot be doing all that so detachedly!)

this to me checks with the image i have of sae being this guy who’s so used to controlling outcomes on the field but struggling with vulnerability in personal relationships.

but then, also:

there’s also this thing about probabilities and numbers and math that’s still left to chance, right? that’s why they are called “probabilities.” i’m not so good at even the concept of it haha but i know there’s also something profoundly… “allow for loss of control” going on in math at that level…. i hope you get me hahaha. that no matter how precise the calculations, uncertainty remains. you can calculate the odds, but outcomes are still, to some extent, left to ‘chance.’

in the same way, sae’s personal growth could mirror this realization. “letting go of complete control” could be a key theme in his arc. just as math has to allow for degrees of freedom, he must learn that relationships can’t be navigated with precision or cold logic. there are no “right” answers in emotions, after all, only possibilities.

he might initially approach emotions with the same mindset he uses in football: analyze, calculate risks, and wait for the best moment. however, in time, he can learn that emotions aren’t something to solve—they need to be lived through, with all the uncertainty and vulnerability they bring.

so yes, sae being a little math nerd is special to me.

(this was a long-winded way of me saying sae needs to have a good time iykwim somebody please give him a good time)

[planetpedri]

Silver lining — Florian Wirtz.

Pairing: Florian Wirtz x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’d locked yourself out of your apartment, your phone was dead, nobody was home, so your only option was to ask your new neighbor for help. Even though that small inconvenience sucked, you were about to be eternally grateful.

Word count: 1.2k

Disclaimer/s: FLUFF! FLUFF! also reader being a little paranoid cuz stranger danger but not really iykwim.

A/N: This plot literally came to my head right before i was about to take a nap so i put it in my notes so i could write later and i’m sooooo. guys. guys this may be my favorite plot.

There was no way this was happening to you. There was absolutely no fucking way this was happening right now! You gripped your purse a little tighter, kneeling to the floor so you could spread it out further. You checked every pocket, every crevice, and they were nowhere to be seen.

You had forgotten your keys at your sister’s house, or in her car, or— You mind was spinning, trying to place exactly where you’d had them last.

Then your brain lit up, you needed to call your sister. She’d bring them over! Grabbing your phone, you tap the screen, but it doesn’t turn on. Your face scrunches as you tappen it rapidly, clicking the side button too. That’s when you’re met with the red battery sign. Great. Your phone was dead, too.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your things and shove them into your purse. You only had one option right now and that was to ask one of your neighbors to borrow their phone.

Not your favorite idea, but the only one that you had at that moment.

Standing up from the ground, you glance around the hallway. Five options. The old married couple at the end who always gave you the creeps, a girl named Julia, who was probably too busy working… the options went on until you landed on the door right across from yours.

The new guy. You’d never talked to him, never seen him, just heard of him from Julia, who was a gossiper through and through.

Red flags flew across your mind as you took timid steps closer. Stranger danger. But, at the end of the day, you weren’t that scared. You always took risks, so there was no reason to be nervous. All you needed was his phone, and that’s it!

Bringing your fist up to the door, you knock. One… Two… Three… “I’m coming! Hold on!” A man’s voice shouts from the other side, not rude or anything, just assuring you he was going to open it soon.

You take a small step away from the door when you hear the lock clicking open and the doorknob turning. It swings open to reveal a confused man, his bleached hair damp as if he’d just showered. Your theories are confirmed when you see water stains on his gray shirt.

Swallowing thickly, you raise a quick hand in greeting. “Hey.. i’m your neighbor! Uhm, I got locked out, my phone is dead, and I was wondering if I could borrow your phone to call my sister?” You speak quickly, suddenly all too nervous. Not because he was a stranger, but because he was.. well. He was hot.

Your new neighbor was hot and he was making you very nervous. This was new. And he looked familiar, though you couldn’t quite place why.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he nods his head, opening the door wider to give you a clear view of his apartment. “Of course. It’s on the charger, you can wait inside if you want?”

Stranger danger! Stranger danger! “Thank you! I appreciate that,” you smile, following him inside.

The door falls shut behind you, and you take a moment to recognize this was how a lot of true crime stories start. But, you don’t make a move to leave. Instead, you follow him into the living room area, appreciating how clean it was.

Another thing that surprised you. Most men who lived alone weren’t this neat. Then you feel slightly disappointed, he must have a girlfriend.

The blonde unplugs his phone, handing it to you. “Password’s ten-seventeen.” He nods, moving to sit down on a brown sofa.

Taking the device gratefully, you unlock the phone and move to the calling app. “Thank you, again.” You say before dialing your sister, pressing the phone to your ear.

She picks up on the fourth ring, and you explain your situation quickly. Unfortunately, she was already home, so it would take her twenty minutes at the very least, to get back to you.

Sighing a quick thanks, you hang up. “She’s like, twenty minutes away! Thank you, here’s your phone…” You trail off, realizing you never asked his name.

“Florian.” He nods, taking the phone back. “You’re welcome to wait here…” He does the same trailing off, and you laugh. You tell him your name and a smile graces his lips. He repeats it, lips curling into a grin. “That’s a pretty name, it’s nice to meet you.”

Your face flushes at the compliment. “Oh, uh, thank you! Wow, i’ve told you that like twelve times in the past ten minutes!” You’re in a flustered, rambling state, completely embarrassing yourself.

But Florian just smiles, finding it endearing. “So, how long have you lived here?” He asks, motioning for you to sit down.

You take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, turning your body towards him as you get comfortable. “About… two years now? I originally lived with my sister, but she got married and moved out.” You had no idea why you were telling him random facts you didn’t need to say, but he listened intently anyways. “How about you? I haven’t really seen you around.”

“Just a few months, but I travel a lot, so i’m rarely here.” That’s when it clicks. That’s why he looks so familiar.

Your eyes widen, “oh my God. You’re a footballer.” Now you were extremely embarrassed. Your sister is definitely going to freak when she realizes who you’re with.

Florian rubs the back of his neck, nodding sheepishly. “That I am.”

“That’s cool.” You play it off, not wanting to seem too geeked about it. You had to act normal.

Florian nods, his lip twitching slightly. “Uhm, so, what do you do for work?”

The rest of the twenty minutes goes by smoothly, conversations flowing between you two easily and comfortably. You’d grown to enjoy his company, and he clearly felt the same.

You’d charged your phone while you two spoke, so when you get the notification that your sister had arrived, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Florian’s eyes flicker to your phone, his lips forming a thin line.

“Well… I suppose I should go.” You stand slowly, subconsciously trying to spend a little more time. Florian stands as well, taking his sweet time walking you to the door.

He hesitates, his hand on the door knob, “we should do this again sometime?” He suggests, eyes trailing up to your face.

You attempt to suppress a smile, nodding quickly. “Yes!” Too fast. “I mean… yeah, no for sure.” You shrug, lips darting out to wet your lips nervously.

He quietly chuckles, turning the doorknob and opening it to allow you to leave. “Are you busy tomorrow?” He asks, stepping aside to let you through.

Once you were back in the hallway, you turn back around to face him. “I have work till four, but I should be free after that!”

“Good,” he hums, “knock on my door whenever you want, i’ll be here.” After exchanging a quick goodbye, he shuts the door, leaving you with a wide smile on your face.

Forgetting your keys just became the best inconvenience you’ve ever had.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @spidybaby !

[buzzcutlip]

Cracks and Gaps - The Cat Shrine (part III) Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Explicit 8539 words

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than I expected but it's also packed with stuff that needs to be said and done. Plus! I believe this part offers all we've been waiting for iykwim

THE CAT SHRINE "Carmen!" You snap your fingers next to his ear.

"Yeah," he replies, blue eyes melting into yours like ice daggers.

"You're not concentrating," you accuse, huffing.

"I am!"

"You're so not."

Shaking your head, you put your phone down, tired of trying to show the chef the progress The Bear has made in its social media presence. You don’t think it’s important for him to know all the details, but he should be fully informed.

"You haven’t even downloaded Instagram, have you?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Uhm…" Carmen shifts uncomfortably, guilt written all over his face.

"I knew it!" you exclaim. Although you want to be strict, wanting him to know you take your work seriously and wanting him to acknowledge it, you start laughing when you see the long face he’s pulling. He looks like a dog caught peeing on the rug.

"What’re you laughing at?" Carmen asks sullenly.

You shake your head. "Nothin'," but you still snicker. You like teasing him a little.

When you calm down, you take a sip of your soda from the funky Superdawg cup and take a deep breath. The parking lot offers no shade, and there’s sweat gathering at your hairline. You watch the two mascots—Laurie and Flaurie, sausages perched on the roof of the drive-in. Thousands of people must have done the exact same thing since this spot opened in the '50s.

"Do you think Nat really wants me at Pete’s birthday?" you ask, your face serious. From Carmen's expression, you can tell he appreciates the change.

"I think so," he affirms. "She wouldn’t have asked otherwise."

"She’s too nice. She knows I would find out about it eventually," you muse aloud. "Like, that would be awkward… I hope it’s not only 'cause of the interview and stuff."

Carmen lights a cigarette, shaking his head. "Bullshit." He always waits to smoke until no one around is eating.

You shrug, faking nonchalance, but the idea of Natalie inviting you out of obligation makes you feel sick to your stomach. You don’t need favors or fawning over.

Carmen blows the blue smoke in the opposite direction from you. "She likes you."

The car hood is hot under your butt, and your cutoff denim shorts aren’t doing much to protect your skin. You shimmy uncomfortably, hissing.

Next to you, Carmen looks down at you, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"It’s hot," you whine, trying to tug the shorts lower.

"You okay?" Carmen checks.

"I’m fine," you sigh. "I’m glad to be baking my ass on metal, actually," you say, picking the last bits of caramelized onion from the paper tray. "I watched The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo yesterday. Listened to way too much of Ethel Cain…"

Carmen keeps looking at you, clearly not following.

"'s dark stuff," you sigh again, being pretty dramatic just for effect. You definitely don’t feel too affected by Nordic crime books or songs about escaping a cult and cannibalism. It takes you somewhere else, mentally. Not a bad place, necessarily.

"Uhm—hopefully the hot dog’s cheered you up?" Carmen asks, popping a fry into his mouth, then wiping his hand with the back of his tattooed fingers. They’re long and graceful, the nail beds clean with minimal hangnails. You want to lick them clean.

You give him a smile. A genuine one. "Yep."

Not just the hot dog.

Carmen’s brows furrow a bit as he glances at you, a small smile playing on his lips despite himself. "You’re hard to read sometimes. Like—hm—I don’t know if you’re joking or not."

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you tease, giving him a playful nudge. His hand steadies itself on the hood as the sun glints off it, the Chicago heat thick in the air around you.

"It’s not," Carmen says, his tone softer now. "It feels more genuine. Authentic. It’s kinda... nice."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his awkward sincerity. "Kinda?"

Carmen chuckles, shaking his head as if embarrassed by the admission. "Fine. It’s nice."

You smirk, pleased with yourself for drawing him out of his usual seriousness.

"Nat wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you there, you know," Carmen says, circling back to your earlier worry.

"I guess," you reply, still a bit skeptical. "Just don’t wanna be somewhere I don’t really belong."

Carmen’s gaze hardens a little, a quiet determination settling in his voice. "You do belong."

You meet his eyes, surprised at the firmness in his words. For all his hesitation and self-doubt, Carmen has a way of saying the simplest things with absolute certainty when he means it.

"Okay," you reply quietly.

—

In the late afternoon, you arrive at Pete and Natalie’s house. The sunlight’s casting a warm glow over the tree-lined streets, and you’re grateful that the heat’s eased off and you aren’t sweaty and gross before you get in. The house is beautifully maintained, with a fresh coat of paint, a well-kept yard, and soft music spilling out through the open windows. Pete’s job clearly allows them a bit of comfort. For the first time since you were here, all those months ago, you notice these little details.

As you make your way up the walkway, you notice a stroller parked just inside the entryway, along with a soft baby blanket draped over the arm of a chair near the door—the quiet reminders of Natalie and Pete’s new life as parents. You hear soft baby coos over the sound of conversation, which makes you smile. Yet, it’s a reminder that maybe you yourself should start thinking of this kind of life. A life with a serious partner you might start a family with. Someone you will spend the rest of your life with. Probably. Hopefully.

Inside, the party is subdued yet lively. Guests drift through the kitchen and living room, chatting and laughing. You greet a few familiar faces, but you’re not really that close with most of them. The place is clean and pretty, the opposite of the mess you experienced in May. You quickly spit out your gum into a tissue you find in your pocket.

Richie finds you first, thrusting a glass of mimosa in your hand. You didn’t plan on drinking, but this could help with your nerves. You’re not great in new settings, around people you don’t know very well. Luckily, you’re pretty good with kids and you really like Natalie, so when she spots you, you spend about 30 minutes chatting while a few people gather around you. She gives you the baby to hold, and the little boy dozes off in your arms. When Nat takes him back to put him down in the crib, you excuse yourself from Jimmy’s wife and another older lady to go find water and maybe something small to eat.

The kitchen is quiet compared to the rest of the house, and you’re not surprised to find Carmen there, cutting carrots into precise sticks, his knife moving with calm precision. He doesn’t notice you at first, so you have a moment to take in his wide, muscled back under a thin sweater. It’s a very, very nice back that you would really, really like to see without any clothes.

You shake your head, pulling yourself together.

You clear your throat. “Hi.”

The sound startles him, and he jumps, the knife slipping from his fingers onto the cutting board with a loud clatter. “Fuck!” he mutters, spinning around to see you.

“Sorry!” you hurry to apologize, walking all the way to him. “Did you cut yourself?”

“No, it’s fine,” Carmen reassures you, taking a deep breath. “Hey,” he greets you back, a bit calmer now. He seems a bit surprised to see you.

“So, I find you in the kitchen, of all places,” you say with a smile, leaning on the wall. Under your arm is a thick paper envelope with the fresh magazine issue inside.

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t come.” His expression shifts to something warm, less guarded than what you’re used to. You almost blush at his words, unsure of what to take away from them.

Your fingers tighten around the envelope for a moment before you gather the courage to hand it over to him. “I wanted to show you this today.”

Carmen’s gaze drops to the big envelope, and he takes it from you. When he opens it, he sees himself on the cover, and there’s a pause. The main title reads, "Chef Carmen: The Story That Matters."

You feel a slight flutter of nerves. “I wanted to give you a chance to see it before anyone else. We just received a couple of copies yesterday. It’s not on newsstands for another week.”

Carmen nods but stays quiet, just flipping through the pages. You made sure Nat went over the final images with him, confirming he’s okay with the selection, and with the cover that features him wearing a pair of smart black pants and a white t-shirt revealing his tattoos. You see him skimming the article, glancing at the photos of himself in the kitchen and on the set. There are a couple with the whole team at The Bear.

“It’s… weird,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Seeing myself like this.”

You tilt your head curiously. “You’ve been in magazines. Even on the cover.”

“Yeah—just—” he glances back at the pages. “Not with a project that’s as personal as The Bear.”

You nod, understanding. It is revealing. While transcribing the interview and writing the whole feature, you finally had a chance to see through the cracks and gaps and get a glimpse of the real Carmen. The one hiding behind his unapproachable facade.

Carmen shakes his head, chuckling softly. “It’s… a lot. But it’s good,” he admits, his voice soft. He looks back at you, and you can feel the gratitude there, unspoken but genuine. “Thank you. You put a lot of work into this.”

You give a small shrug, trying to keep your own emotions in check.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I doubted you.” The reference to the bumpy start stings, and you almost grimace. “It’s… it’s everything you’ve done to get us here. I don’t think anyone’s ever believed in me like that.”

You want to say something silly, like, “Oh, I knew you’d be the top chef in Copenhagen already,” but you can’t get the words out. You don’t frequent The Bear as often as you used to. After the incident with Carmen, and even after all the apologies, you agreed they would find a proper social media manager, and you would help occasionally. But now you’ve started meeting Carmen outside the kitchen much more, venturing further into the restaurant world with a top chef as your guide. He’s changed, you think. Maybe both of you have.

Finally, Carmen breaks the silence, letting out a small, almost bashful laugh. “Guess I should, uh, keep this somewhere safe?”

You smile, relieved to feel the tension ease, and nod. “Yeah, please. Maybe show it to them when you’re back at work tomorrow? I’m sure Sydney and the others would get a kick out of seeing it.”

You watch Carmen tuck the magazine back into the envelope, and you feel the moment slipping past you. You clear your throat, gathering yourself before you speak.

“Actually, there’s… this event next week,” you start, fidgeting slightly. “It’s a charity cocktail—kind of formal, for a nonprofit that supports community kitchens. I wanted to ask if you’d come with me.”

Carmen raises an eyebrow, caught between curiosity and amusement. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug that you hope comes off casual. “I mean, you’re on the cover of Taste now, and people will hear about it soon. Thought it’d be nice to… y’know, show you off a little.”

He looks down, an almost shy grin tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t think I was the ‘show-off’ type.”

“Oh, you totally are,” you reply, grinning. “Besides, Nat mentioned you might need to make an appearance or two—good publicity for The Bear and all that.”

Carmen nods, as if he’s already half-resigned. “She has been dropping hints,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to ask if you’d come with me to it, too. Got the invite a few weeks back.”

“Oh,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “I thought we’re friends now. You should've asked sooner,” and you hope the word “friends” sounds as casual as you intended.

“Okay—then yes,” Carmen says, and there’s a challenge in his voice, his face serious. It’s clear he doesn’t want to seem like someone afraid of public events and social gatherings in general. You do know the truth, which makes you chuckle.

“How fancy is the event, you think?” he checks, sounding slightly discouraged now.

“Not that fancy, don’t worry.” You grin, leaning a bit closer. “Nothing that calls for a tux, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, I can wear a tux,” he juts out his chin, and it’s such a sudden change to his normal demeanor that you feel a bit weak in the knees for a second. Confidence suits him, as you know. And not only while he’s being the Chef.

“No doubt,” you agree with a smile, taking a tray with homemade hummus and carrot sticks from him.

“Oh—I’ve been meaning to ask you,” you remember as you’re both exiting the kitchen with more prepared food in your hands. “How did you survive the photo shoot and interview without any smoke breaks?”

He looks up at you and stays quiet for a moment.

“Nicotine patches. I had to put on three at the same time.”

And you laugh.

—

Carmen picks you up on Thursday at six-thirty. You chew through half a packet of gum while getting ready. A mix of feelings is swirling around in your stomach—excitement, nervousness, and an utter disbelief that you’re so worked up about a professional evening with Carmen.

When he buzzes the intercom, you jump, giving yourself an unnecessary scare, then roll your eyes at yourself. Grabbing a small black purse, you lock up behind yourself and make your way down the four flights of stairs. The air outside is slightly cool from the late afternoon rain, the fresh smell hitting your nose and making you nostalgic.

“Oh my god,” your heart drops to your stomach the second you look at Carmen, who is blankly staring with the most perplexed expression you’ve ever seen. “Have I messed up? Is this inappropriate?” Trying to read more from Carmen’s face, you lift your trembling hands to your mouth. What have you done? Why do you always have to have your way?

You look down at your draped top, barely covering your shoulders, and wide, pleated pants you opted for instead of a more traditional skirt or dress. You’re also wearing high-heeled Mary Janes that bring you to the same height level as Carmen. You hoped he’d get the fashion statement.

“I’m—I can change,” you stammer, turning halfway back to the door, already thinking about what you could swap this for.

As Carmen starts saying, “No, no,” you say, “It said semi-formal.” Carmen reaches for your hand and gently pulls it from your mouth. You’re still confused and freaking out, not understanding anything.

“I just meant—I just wanted to say,” Carmen swallows, “that you look lovely.”

“Oh god,” you sigh heavily with relief, and you both laugh—Carmen a bit awkwardly, and you breathlessly. “Screw you.” You’re pretty sure you feel two stones lighter suddenly.

It’s only later, when you’re both sitting in the back of a taxi taking you to The Field Museum, that you realize what Carmen said. He said you looked pretty. Oh.

—

“This is going to be so awkward,” Carmen says, his eyes never leaving the big, open door with a stream of nicely dressed people heading in through it. The large, Neoclassical building is imposing with its massive Corinthian columns, giving off an air of true greatness.

“Oh, c’mon,” you whine. “I’m actually really excited to see it from the inside without the usual visitors. It’s gonna be fine. You can even get drunk, if you want to.”

“Uh—I don’t really drink,” Carmen says as he finishes off his cigarette, stubbing the end and flicking the butt into the ashtray.

“Maybe tonight you will.” You smile sweetly. Of course, you would never even think of pressuring Carmen—or anyone— into drinking alcohol, but the faded image of the two of you in his houseboat in Copenhagen pops into your head.

“We can just check out Ancient Egypt and go,” you suggest as you watch Carmen fidget nervously from the corner of your eye.

He gives you a tight smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes, then offers you his arm, and together you go in.

The East Atrium is lit up and arranged with round tables and smaller, tall bar tables. It’s a modern addition to the museum designed to blend with the historic architecture. Through the large windows facing the lake, you can see the sun starting to set. There are fresh flowers—hydrangeas, peonies, and tuberose—in the vases decorating the space, and you can’t help but touch the soft petals as you stand by one of the arrangements.

Carmen’s gaze shifts around the room. His arm tenses slightly under your hand, and you can tell he's trying to look relaxed, even as his fingers keep flexing in his pocket. “See? It’s nice in here, right?” you whisper, trying to catch his eye, hoping for a little reassurance that he’s not hating every second. So far, you’ve only met two people you know—clients who regularly advertise in Taste and who did recognize Carmen, pulling him into an intense conversation about cooking stoves. When he spoke to the clients, you noticed his voice was polite but guarded, the rhythm clipped, almost rehearsed. Different from when he talks to you.

Carmen gives a reluctant nod. “Yeah, it’s…not bad.” He scans the room again, and you feel for him, guessing he’s probably trying to uncover any other potential danger. Then he notices the flowers you’ve gravitated toward, and his mouth quirks up—just a bit. “You really like flowers, huh?” he says quietly, watching you brush your fingers over the soft petals.

You grin and shrug. The scent of tuberose mingles with the warmth of the evening, and you get the best idea. “Want to skip the mingling and find the mummies?” you offer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “I mean, what’s a night at the Field Museum without a little ancient history?”

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, a rare sound that feels like a victory. “Yeah,” he says, sounding almost relieved. “Let’s do that.” As you make your way across the Atrium, Carmen keeps close by your side, your arms brushing. When he opens the door for you, his hand hovers just above the small of your back, the warmth radiating from his palm seeping into your spine through your clothes. The murmured “thanks” is the most you can do without embarrassing yourself.

—

“My dad is obsessed with mummies. He used to take me here at least twice a year when I was a kid,” you say as you aim your phone camera to capture the sleeping artifact. “I’ve never been here after the closing hours though.”

You send a quick, funny message to the chat group you have with your parents, and put the phone back into your purse. Although the narrow corridors and the displays are the same as they were years ago, it never gets old to you.

“I don’t think my parents took me places,” Carmen says next to you, studying the plaque next to the mummy and its decorated sarcophagus. “To cultural institutes and shit. We spent a lot of time at home, or running around our block.”

You feel a pang in your chest for little-boy Carmy. On the other hand, you know that you can’t judge other people’s experiences and the quality of their childhoods and lives based on yours.

“You’re here now. And you can ask anything. I can pretend to be a qualified guide,” you half-joke.

Carmen chuckles softly, though his gaze stays fixed on the ancient figure in its case. His eyes trace over the faded bandages, the meticulous, centuries-old work of preservation.

“It’s just an illusion. Most of the exhibits we see in museums have been stolen from the original countries as part of colonialism or wars,” you sigh, studying the gold jewelry in a display behind the thick glass. “It shouldn’t be like that.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of messed up.”

Next, you check the Book of the Dead and the reconstruction of the ancient marketplace. Here and there, you bump into other people drifting in from the atrium, taking the opportunity to experience the free exhibition too.

“I think I need a drink after the cat shrine,” Carmen points out once you make it back to the lively space of the Atrium. The glass ceiling reveals that the evening’s turned into night. “It was kinda creepy,” he says with a certain hint of unease. You chuckle, patting him lightly on the back. “I think that’s the point. Cats are guardians of the afterlife, gazing into your soul. Maybe they picked you out for judgment, Carmen.” He shudders slightly, pulling a face. “I’d rather stick to cooking for the living.”

More people approach you as you wait at the bar—old colleagues of Carmen from Ever, hospitality people you’ve interviewed, and Regina, the head of sales from Taste.

Carmen holds the two drinks as you find a table off to the side, both of you grateful for the secluded spot. He slides your drink over to you. The tired look on his face proves he’s not too thrilled about the impromptu reunion with old colleagues.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan club,” you point out. The way Regina was looking at Carmen sticks with you—the way she talked to him. Like she wanted to eat him alive. Or fuck him.

Carmen rolls his eyes. “Didn’t realize it’d be a whole industry meetup. Thought I was off-duty tonight.”

“You couldn't have possibly thought that.”

You mirror Carmen and take a sip of the drink to find out what he’s ordered for you.

“That’s—that’s licorice vodka,” you stammer out.

Carmen nods. “Yeah, can you believe they have it here?” A small, secretive smile plays around his eyes. “Did I hit the target, Copenhagen?” Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected nostalgia that hits you as you recognize the drink. It’s simple, unassuming, yet oddly perfect—a reminder of countless late nights and blurry memories from Denmark. You can’t believe he’s remembered. “Yeah,” you say, recovering. “You hit the target.”

Instead of pondering more about the reasons, or the lack of them, behind Carmen’s gesture, you look down at your feet, hissing. “Do your feet hurt?”

“Fuck yes. Like hell!” You can’t help but grimace as you shift your weight, feeling the pinch of your shoes.

Carmen watches you shuffle uncomfortably, and he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh…you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“It’s fine. I was expecting this.”

You take a sip of your drink again, thinking of what you want to say next.

“Do you do all this because of what happened?” you ask, looking at the floor behind his shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“The—what happened in the restaurant office,” you add in a small voice, hating to talk about the incident.

Carmen reaches out to lightly touch your hand on the table. “I should've never behaved that way. I was a real dick.”

“That mean yes or no?” you inquire, your heart picking up speed. You don’t know why you’re getting nervous again. “You’ve been super nice to me. And a—a good, uhm, friend.” You say the word ‘friend’ so tentatively it’s almost inaudible in the room. Maybe you hope Carmen’s gonna overhear. It’s such a fragile label of what’s between you.

Carmen actually huffs out a small laugh before he says: “Be nice to nice,” and you lift your head up to glance at him, finding him smiling, so you smile back. You just smile back and don’t say anything else. This is all you need.

—

The next morning, the sun feels harsher than it should. It streams through the blinds, making everything feel just a little too bright, a little too real after last night. You had expected to wake up tired, but what you didn’t expect was the quiet echo of Carmen’s smile and his casual, soft touches lingering in your chest and beneath your skin. Fuck, you think self-deprecatingly. You try to shake it off as you rush to work, but it’s impossible.

During the morning briefing, you keep checking your phone for new messages, but there are none from Carmen. It’s hard not to hope for a follow-up after last night. As innocent and friendly as the whole evening had been, ignoring your growing affection for the chef is impossible now.

When your phone buzzes during your lunch break, a quick glance at the screen tells you it’s Natalie, texting in her usual efficient bursts: Nat: New special menu to be launched tomorrow. Can you stop by The Bear tonight? Nat: Just to check how we wanna communicate it on SoMe. Nothing major! You barely finish reading before the familiar flutter sets in. Nothing major for Natalie usually means chaos in the making. But it’s not her message that has you rushing home after work—it’s the possibility of seeing Carmen again. By the time you’ve touched up your makeup and slipped into a new outfit, your nerves are buzzing. Carmen’s commented on your dresses a couple of times, so you feel like that’s definitely the right choice. You put together a dark blue button-through summer dress with tiny white dots, and a pair of cowboy boots, giving you a look that’s casually cool.

As you get ready, you wonder how Carmen feels about seeing you again so soon after last night. You wonder if he thought about the drink he picked for you, or the way he laughed—so much that his dimples, which you had almost forgotten about, kept appearing by his mouth.

The service is in full swing when you arrive, so you automatically use the back door, heading to the office as quickly as possible through the intensity of the kitchen. You don’t even try to catch a glimpse of blond hair or that familiar white chef’s jacket, even though you terribly want to.

“Looks like it’s already a madhouse,” you say, sliding into the chair next to Natalie in the office. “When isn’t it?” Nat quips, finally looking up with a wry smile. She nods toward the kitchen. “Carmy’s back there somewhere. I told him you’d swing by.” Your stomach does a little flip at the mention of his name, but you nod casually, as if it doesn’t affect you at all. “Okay, let’s see this menu then.”

Natalie starts explaining the dishes, her words efficient but animated, as she describes the seasonal ingredients and the thought behind the pairings. It’s funny how similar the siblings are. Maybe not at first glance, but as you’ve gotten to know them better, you notice the resemblance more often than not.

As if summoned by your thoughts, the door swings open, and Carmen steps out. His brows are furrowed in that intense, focused way that somehow makes him look even more attractive. Your breath catches, and you quickly look down at the paper in front of you, pretending to study the menu notes.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and quiet, as he approaches the table. He nods at Natalie, then turns his attention to you. His gaze flickers briefly to your dress. “Hi,” you reply, trying not to sound too breathless. “Thanks for coming,” Carmen says, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before shifting back to Natalie. “So, what’s the plan?”

As Natalie launches into the logistics, you can’t help but steal glances at Carmen. He’s close enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne, and when his fingers brush yours as he passes a page of notes, it feels electric, sending a spark up your arm. If you’d struggled to concentrate earlier, it’s almost impossible now. And you’re the one who’s supposed to share ideas and opinions.

The whole thing stretches into a menu tasting in the only calmer spot in the kitchen—you taking photos just in case, brainstorming about the introduction wording. Then Carmen and Natalie get into a fight—unsurprisingly—before making up. It’s like being on a swing with them, and the whole environment of the kitchen—hot, fast, frantic—makes it even more intense.

—

Absolutely on purpose, you finish fiddling with Instagram just before 11:30 p.m. in the empty kitchen, getting up when you hear what must be Carmen taking out his civvies from his locker. You take your bomber jacket and a handbag, walking over there.

“Hi,” you say, and Carmen’s head pops up through the hole of his crewneck sweater.

“Hey,” he says back. “You’re still here?”

You nod. “Thank you again for yesterday. For taking me with you.”

Carmen looks up at you from where he’s changing his Birkenstocks for white sneakers. “Didn’t you take me with you?” he jokes.

“It was nice either way,” you say, putting on your jacket and hoping Carmen doesn’t hear the hope in your voice. It’s hard to keep the softness you feel for him out of your words.

Carmen hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “You leaving too?”

“Yep.”

He holds the back door for you, touching your lower back lightly the way he had yesterday. You bite your lip at the slightest contact, resisting the urge to reach back and touch his hand.

You lean against the wall by the door as Carmen locks up and then lights up a cigarette. You haven’t talked much for the rest of the dinner service, but he seems more relaxed, smiles more often. It has you smiling too.

“What?” he checks when he looks over at you.

You shake your head but the smile persists. “Nothin’... I’m glad it all has worked out,” you sigh with relief and content.

Carm blows the smoke above his head, watching it disappear. “Thanks to you,” he says seriously. 

“No. No, we talked about this yesterday. I don’t need any credit in this,” you’re shaking your head in resolution, a frown forming on your face. “I don’t want it.”

He steps closer, crowding you against the wall, intention flashing in his eyes, and you can't breathe. Can't imagine that the timid chef would want - that he would want you in a way you've been wanting him. 

Carmen gets into your space, and your hands land on his waist, finding purchase on the waistband of his jeans. “Carmy,” you breath out quietly, head tilted down. You don't know what's going to happen but the close proximity to the chef makes you breathless. His hands cradle your face. You only feel the gentle touch, scared to face Carmen fully. But you can smell him again - his deodorant and hair product. Cigarettes. 

He surprises you though. “Why do you always smell like cinnamon?” he mumbles, his breath tickling the baby hair around your ear, his mouth an inch from it. 

“It's the - the gum,” you answer, trying to stay calm despite your heart beating like crazy. Only now you do realize you called him Carmy. It felt right. 

You're not sure for how much longer you can stay still, but Carmen seems to have no trouble dragging the situation out. You are restless, though, you just have to do something. 

So you tilt your face up and you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him. Just to press your lips against Carmy’s, nothing else. It’s actually more of an act to break the tension than an actual kiss. You feel absolutely stupid a mere second after you are back on your feet fully, Carmen right in front of you, unmoving.

“Am I reading this all wrong?” you ask when the chef remains silent, avoiding eye contact with you.

He shakes his curly head, putting space between you two—unwittingly or not, you don’t want to think about it now—and runs a palm over his face, scratching the back of his neck. His body leaning away, the stupid crewneck pulling tight across his shoulders with the stretch of Carmen’s muscles.

“You’re not,” he says, and you almost feel giddy. You bite your lip to stop smiling. Carmen looks pained and worried, and you don’t want to be smiling.

“Then what’s going on?” you ask, reaching for his wrist and stroking the protruding bones there lightly.

“Just—I just feel like I’m going to fuck everything up.”

Slowly, you sway back closer to him, putting all your own nervousness behind. You lay one of your palms against his chest, hoping it could comfort him, the other one back on his waist.

“You know you are hot—” you say quietly, not quite looking him in the eye, “—attractive.” You correct yourself quickly.

“What?” Carmen says, and you can feel him relax a tiny bit, twisting his hand so it’s holding the one that had been on his wrist.

“You work out. You must know that you look good.” You slide your palm a little lower to the abs hiding under his cotton shirt.

It sounds awfully a lot like flirting, but you don’t even know how to flirt. You are honestly so bad at it. And this is only the truth, anyway.

Carmy’s definitely wearing a blush that’s matching yours. It’s spreading down his neck and lower, where you want to put your mouth.

“I just run. Sometimes. After work,” Carmen stammers a little incoherently, probably feeling like you are expecting an answer, or an explanation. And you know he runs every day, and does push-ups and God knows what. It’s a known fact in the kitchen. That’s how he puts space between “work” and “life.” A divider. Even just so small. You understand it. The need to know where your job ends and you start. You can also imagine that it’s something very difficult to distinguish for Carmen.

“I hate running,” you note, your honest mind is too quick to think twice. “But still—I would really like to kiss you. Properly.”

A car wheezes around you, way past the speed limit, and Carmen stares after it. He takes a visible, deep breath, looking into the street on the right, where the street lamps turn into small yellow, glowing balls. It bares the side of his neck to you, thick and vulnerable, and you can’t not look. A shiver runs through you from the evening chill, or maybe something else, too.

“Can we—would you maybe like to come over to my place?” you ask, probably the bravest you’ve ever been.

Carmen clearly thinks about the situation for a couple of seconds before he says: “Ok. Let’s go.”

You blink once, say nothing, and head toward the L with him by your side.

—

On the staircase, Carmen takes your hand into his, long fingers sliding along the top of your hand. While you're unlocking the door, you wonder if Mikaela left potato peels and apricot stones and orange rinds on the kitchen counter in her so-called open compost. 

“Come in,” you say over your shoulder. The old, brass hanger is by the main door and you hang your jacket there, then take Carmen's to put away there too. “Would you like something to drink?” you ask politely, stalling on purpose. “We have - “ in all honesty, you are almost scared to open the fridge but Carmen is still standing where you left him, by the door. “We have tonic - “ without his friend gin that disappeared on Saturday - “ - or tap water.” 

Carmen's wearing his gray crewneck and in combination with his mussed hair, he looks incredibly soft. “'m fine,” he says, looking at you with his big eyes, looking nervous but somewhat calm. Like he doesn't want to run away, which instantly comes to you as a huge relief. 

You go to switch on the two small lamps placed around the room that you call the living room, which is obviously part kitchen and dining room too. The light makes everything even softer, a gentle sort of atmosphere. Suddenly it's easy to find each other in the middle of the room, right where the sofa with patchwork cushions are. WIthout a moment of hesitation, you kinda meet in the middle, and finally, you get to taste Carmen Berzatto. 

It takes a few slow, lingering kisses to get bolder, and to your surprise, it's Carmen who gently slips his tongue into your mouth first, and you briefly wonder if he can taste the cinnamon from your gum now. Slowly reaching up to put your hand on the nape of Carmy's neck, you feel the delicate golden chain lying against his vertebra. How long will it take to see him wearing only that?

You push him softly in the general direction of the sofa. It's old and too soft, but you love the faded gray upholstery and how homey the simple piece of furniture is. Soon Carmen´s sitting on it with you on his lap. You’re wearing the dark blue cotton dress and your boots that are digging in the sofa by Carmen's thighs. 

Carmen´s not shy, kissing you fully, tilting your head to his liking, stroking your bare arms up and down. You’re breathless on top of him, fingers running through the dark blond curls, giving back as much as receiving. The two of you kiss for long minutes, and you love it. You love how he tastes and how he's touching you, but it's clear that he's holding back. Or maybe it’s just you who is completely overwhelmed with want and need. 

“Are you - are you a virgin?” you dare to ask into his ear, kissing his neck, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder. 

“What? No,” Carmen says, letting out a breathless laugh. 

“It's fine if you are.”

“No,” he repeats.

“Ok.”

You lean back and take his hand to intertwine your fingers together. You can feel how warm your face is, the rushing of your heart. 

“I just - just haven’t done anything. In a while,” Carmen says while looking at you, and he´s blushing, the apples of his cheeks darker than seconds ago. 

“Me neither,” you reply in the same hushed voice caused by the dark room around you.

“You can touch me,” you invite him, bringing your joint hands to the apex of your thighs where the hem of your dress has rucked up. There´s nothing to be seen, the dress still covering your underwear, and you remember incidentally, that you are wearing a very plain pair of white knickers. Before he has a chance to react to your bold move, you duck down to kiss him, and everything drowns out the buzz of paralyzing excitement. 

First you feel the soft touch of the back of his knuckles to press against your throbbing groin, too light to do anything than tease you. Carmen doesn't stop kissing you but it's slower, less measured, while he concentrates on the movement of his hand between your legs. He presses a bit harder, starts rubbing you in circles.

You shudder out a breath, tensing, fingers digging into his shoulders. “‘s nice,” you mutter into his mouth, face hot, too worried that if you don't encourage him, he might stop.

Carmen shortly hums in response and doesn’t stop. He presses open mouthed kisses against the side of your neck and down to the low neckline of your dress. You bite down on your lower lip, overwhelmed. It’s still hard to believe that you have Carmen here on your sofa, between your legs, his unruly curls between your fingers. Only now do you start to realize that you feel so much for him. That this is not just messing around. That you could actually fall in love with him. That you have been falling for him.

With a touch to his sharp jaw, you bring his face back to yours to kiss him deeply again, taking his free hand in yours to guide him, this time up to your breast. You squeeze the heavy weight of it and moan against the side of Carmy’s neck.

“I like it when it hurts a bit,” you whisper bashfully, too aware of how your hair sticks to your sweaty nape, the baby hairs by your ears probably curling with the humidity coming off your own burning skin. 

Carmen nods and squeezes, a bit harder than you showed him, and you let out a surprised gasp that turns into a moan, head tilting back in pleasure. His thumb finds your nipple through two layers of clothing and he rubs against it, then pinches. Your eyes fly to his, wide and searching. Surprised by his obvious willingness to please you, you watch Carm’s actions almost breathlessly - how his eyebrows knot in concentration upon every measured touch, the way the tendons in his hand strain when he sneaks his fingers behind the elastic of your underwear. But you need to see more.

“Take this off,” you rasp out, grasping the material of Carmen’s jumper and tugging. “Off,” you mutter again, trying to help Carm out while he gets the garment over his head and off, chuckling breathlessly. You catch his smile and have to grin back, shyly but surely, and you kiss again, Carmen going back where he had stopped. 

When you can open your eyes again, you enjoy the sight of Carmen’s muscles straining as he fingers you, looking down at where his fingers are disappearing into you, the elastic waistband digging into his wrist. He’s as concentrated and serious as he gets in the kitchen, plus turned on, if you can judge by the way he worries his bottom lip and the flush that’s spreading down his face to his long neck. Maybe he does get turned on when he’s in the kitchen, you muse, you just never noticed.

The never-ending string of your thoughts, even in this situation, unfortunately, is interrupted by Carm’s palm moving from your bare thigh up to your ass, his fingertips digging into the meat. His other hand speeds up, causing you to mutter, “Fuck,” into his ear.

“Can you come like this?” Carmen asks, and you can feel his wide eyes on you, even though you’re not looking.

“Give me a sec,” you answer in a breathy, raw voice, already mostly there. Your hand travels down into your underwear to touch your aching, swollen clit, while Carmy resumes, rubbing your walls inside. When he curls his fingers, the tips drag over your g-spot. That stirs all sorts of feelings in you, and you moan, then start grinding against his hand, his fingers. Those fingers that you watched chop and stir so many times in secret with quiet rapture, are now in you, bringing you to an orgasm.

Afraid that he could read too much from your face, you drag him into another kiss, dirtier and more desperate than the previous ones. As you near the peak, getting more and more desperate, unable to kiss Carm properly, he mouths at your collarbones, your chest, the top of your breasts. When he uses his teeth, you know he’s testing how far he can go, and you let out an encouraging sound.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your head tips back again, baring your throat to Carmen, as you come. You can feel your thighs tremble and your fingers squeeze Carmy’s shoulders momentarily. Once it washes over you, you slide off sideways from Carmen’s lap, breathing heavily and still biting your lip. You think you didn’t let out a single sound. You didn’t want to.

Carmen gives you a side glance, eyes glassy. He seems to be a bit breathless himself. You notice his eyes going to your breasts, where you can still feel wetness from his mouth, wondering if there are any actual marks left. Judging by the look on Carmen’s face, there might be.

Without thinking, you reach out and tug on the waistband of his Dickies.

“Yeah?” he says, looking at you.

“Yeah,” you nod.

With clumsy fingers, you open the button on Carmy’s pants together. You can’t help yourself — you push up the material of his t-shirt, revealing extra skin.

Your eyes widen as you scan his toned torso. “Running, huh?” you mutter teasingly, stroking your hand down his warm abdomen.

“Huh?” Carmen’s caught off guard, eyes following your hand. “Oh I — I do push-ups — erm — press-ups — sometimes. When I can't sleep.”

God, why is he sheepish? “And how much do you actually sleep?”

“Couple of hours,” he says, but the second word ends up cut off by a gasp as you touch Carmen’s dick, tugging it out from his underwear. He hisses, hips lifting up with the sensation, and you can see his tummy muscles contracting. You start stroking him slowly, as much as the angle allows you, trying out a firmer grip and then loosening up.

Not wanting to make Carmen uncomfortable with shameless staring, you press your face into the outer side of his arm, watching him from under his shoulder wordlessly. Based purely on his facial expressions, you adjust your fingers on his dick, and the rhythm. As expected, Carmy is utterly quiet, his strong jaw clenching. Only here and there, he lets out a harsh breath that you count as a victory. The t-shirt you have your nose buried in smells of generic laundry detergent, cigarettes, and caramelized onion. It also smells like Carmen — like a guy and antiperspirant.

It’s not long before Carmy squirms — “I’m not gonna last long,” he says, fists balling, and it’s so obvious he’s been holding himself back from fucking up into your hand that you feel almost sorry for him. On the other hand, this small thing between you is so fragile, and you are so anxious that you are going to fuck up, so you just bite your tongue and don’t comment on it.

“It’s fine,” you say low, lips moving against the t-shirt again, pretending you have not been watching his every expression, reading deep into every blink of his eyes, every time he wets his lips, jerks his pelvis up a bare inch with pleasure. The tip of his dick is as cherry pink as his lips are, you notice desperately, and you know this image is going to haunt you forever.

“It’s fine,” you repeat sweetly, speeding up your movements, and then Carmen is coming, thick ropes of it landing on your fingers and your wrist and his t-shirt that’s fallen back down over his stomach. He shakes with the force of his orgasm, and you watch his body in awe as it goes through it, still touching him, feeling the hot, slippery skin of his dick in your hand.

The rush of emotions is so strong that you almost panic. Then you look left and up at Carmen—he’s trying to catch his breath, his big eyes are glassy, and his lips are shiny with his own spit, and in that very moment, you believe that he can see right into the core of your own being.

You want to cradle his jaw and kiss him. Instead, you look away faster than he can. Miraculously, a box of Kleenex sits on the coffee table by the sofa, and you reach over to hand it to Carmen.

Next to you, you hear, more than see, Carmen wipe down the mess, pulling his t-shirt back down.

There are two options—either you get up quickly and this is all over for now, or you acknowledge what just happened and try to be all mature about it. To your own surprise, you go with the latter, turning to Carmen, reaching out to touch his forearm lightly.

He looks over at you and smiles, small and gentle.Then he leans in and kisses you on the lips before standing up.

“Can I smoke in here?” he asks, already searching his pockets.

“Yeah. From the kitchen window,” you point in the general direction of the window. There’s a chopped tomato can serving as an ashtray on the outside windowsill. Without a second look, you disappear into the bathroom to fix your damp underwear.

The night stretches, and Carmy never leaves. After his smoke break, you expect things to be awkward. But they aren’t. You split the two-day-old dinner leftovers—vegan spaghetti bolognese from Mikaela—and you eat it on the same sofa where you had been touching and kissing twenty minutes ago, while watching Modern Family, just to have something to fill in the silence that could become uncomfortable.

Carmen changes into your old baggy t-shirt. No denying that you would prefer him without it, but he asks for it himself. When he comes out of the bathroom and lies next to you, he smells of mint, and you hope he didn’t use your toothbrush without asking—because, “bleh”—and he reads your mind, because he says, “I brushed with toothpaste on my finger,” and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin.

You don’t know how, but you both fall asleep.

The stirring in the bed next to you is what wakes you up. Used to sleeping in your double bed by yourself, it takes your hazy brain a moment to remember that it’s not the case tonight. The light from the streetlamp filtering through the window blinds falls on the man next to you. You watch him wriggle under the sheet, sleepy and unguarded. He looks like an innocent boy—with his puffy eyes and messy hair falling over his forehead. 

Meanwhile, Carmen’s eyes open and find yours. You’re unsure of what he sees on your face, but he outstretches his arm to touch your bare shoulder, and shuffles closer. Your stomach twists at the nearness.

“You okay?” you whisper groggily. “Aren’t you cold?”

He only shakes his head.

“Okay,” you nod into the pillow, daring to run the pads of your fingers along his forearm, stroking. Carmen’s skin here is baby soft, with no hairs on the inner side. You enjoy his quiet hum as you use your nails lightly. He closes his eyes momentarily, and you would say he shivers, but you can’t be sure.

You’re surrounded by the quiet of the night; even the neighbors above must be asleep because you can’t hear their annoying heavy steps. Tomorrow, you won’t be sure if you dreamt this moment.

“Sleep,” you whisper again, something primal overtaking you as you reach further into Carmy’s hair, smoothing down the tangled curls and continuing over the shell of his ear. Carmen watches you for a little longer until he relaxes completely, his blinks getting longer. You’re so caught up in the rare moment of stillness that you don’t realize at first that he’s falling asleep, until his heavy breathing indicates that he’s gone.

[niceonejames7]

inspired by this random post I saw on my tl

so here you go:

words: 1.4k (how the actual hell)

was inspired by a modern family scene, Claire and Phil<3 (very much NOT proofread), also barty slander(in a silly way)

(didn't actually make him jealous in the traditional sense, iykwim? just something silly that came to mind)

♡✿♡

James had noticed what was happening at the Slytherin table, and now that he had, he seems to have lost his appetite. Sirius was complaining to him about something the Slytherins had gotten their hands upon when a very impulsive prank he had tried to pull last night went wrong. Remus rolled his eyes at his complaints but both of them noticed James' reluctance to indulge Sirius' tantrums.

"Mate, you look.... gloomy. You alright?" Sirius asks, a bit surprised at the sullen mood James was in, which was unlike him as he he's laughing and joking around in the morning most days, much to Remus' dislike.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Sirius doesn't push it, unfamiliar with this attitude and goes back to talking to Pete, apparently Bertie botts is releasing a new flavor. Sirius and Pete were both fighting over what it could be. Normally, this would very much entice James, but right now he was focused on only thing.

Regulus was laughing. With someone else.

Jealousy or envy were not familiar to James, he always laughed about it, because he understood. Of course you'd try to flirt with his boyfriend, have you looked at him?

But this was different. He was stabbing at the uneaten carrots on his plate when he heard it again. His boyfriend's loud, beautiful laugh. He groaned and rolled his eyes and to his favor, the bell rang and he got up and left the Great Hall.

Sirius, Remus and Peter all saw him leave, very confused by this sudden change in behaviour.

"What do you think got up his ass?" Remus asks, tidying up his plate.

"Dunno."

The first two classes had passed and James' mood had gotten better, being out of the presence of the hilarious Barty Crouch. Jr, who was just so funny.

James now had Ancient Runes, the only subject he had taken to have a class in common with Regulus. James hurried to reach the classroom but was stopped by McGonagall asking for explanation as to what Sirius was doing by the dungeons so late at night.

Why was he being questioned? He wasn't even there. But nevertheless, he promised the professor that he would talk to her after his lesson, and she had to oblige.

As James practically ran into the room, he searched the room for Regulus. Or any seat with an empty seat. But the only one he could find was beside Pandora, who he is usually fond of, but at the moment, his fondness was sullied by the sight of Regulus sitting with Barty Crouch, again.

James' face must have held an expression of betrayal because when Regulus saw him after laughing at something you know who had said, he mouthed the words I'm sorry with an apologetic face. James had a neutral expression on his face, or so he thought but Regulus again laughed at his lost puppy expression and turned around to write something down.

James felt a bit better, though he couldn't explain why and took a seat beside Pandora.

"Hello, James."

"Hello, Pandora."

She smiled at him and returned to her work. A note fell into James' lap, he opened it and read,

I'll make it up to you, promise. -R.B

James looked to find Regulus looking towards him and James offered him a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

The entire lesson he had to endure the hilarity of Crouch. Jr, and when class ended, James took his time to exit the room, to avoid the comedian that was Barty Crouch Jr.

But when he stepped out, he found Regulus outside, waiting for him, alone.

"What took so long?" Regulus asks, not before setting down his supplies and James' to wrap his arms around him.

"Nothing." James returns the hug, but Regulus can sense something off.

Regulus breaks the hug to look at James with a raised brow.

"You're in a good mood today." James says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Now Regulus knew something was off.

"What? Should I not be in one?" Regulus teases, his tone humorous to lighten his boyfriend's mood.

"No, it's just- I saw you laughing with Junior today.. a lot." The last part was said as a mumble but Regulus heard it anyway. Regulus didn't say anything, going over his responses in his head but James continued,

"It's just I've never seen you laugh so much with them." James was explaining, unclear whether it was to himself or to Regulus.

A very pleased and amused grin spread over Regulus' face,

"James.... Are you jealous?" He asks.

It was strange to Regulus, how unbothered James was if people flirted with him. He chalked it upto his unfaltering confidence, and it was a comfort to know James trusted him. But just sometimes, he would wish for James to be a little jealous.

"No, I'm not jealous, why would I be jealous of that git," James. exclaimed as if the idea was preposterous, "It's just it took you so long to openly laugh with me but I guess with him..." James says, his hands gesturing as if he's explaining, his eyes looking anywhere but on Regulus.

Regulus was delighted. His boyfriend was jealous because he was laughing with someone else. He clapped his hands and held James' face in his hands to steady him, "So, you ARE jealous."

"No, I'm not-" James insisted, but Regulus shut him by planting his lips on his lips, that is if he could stop smiling.

James groaned at the interruption, but it wasn't an interruption he was complaining about. He let his hands wrap around Regulus and pulled him close as Regulus tangled his hand around his curls.

"You don't get jealous when someone asks me out, but you get jealous because I laughed at someone's joke." He asked, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint, his lips pressed tight to hold back a laugh.

"That was NOT what was happening, you were constantly laughing like someone had possessed you or something, and I'm not jealous, alright? I was just-"

Regulus again, shut him with a peck on his lips, "I like it when you're a little jealous, okay? It makes me feel special." He says, shaking him a little to make his point.

James smiles at the admission and caresses his thumbs over his boyfriend's cheek, "And I feel special when I make you laugh. Not the reserved ones you do for others, just the one I see."

James had fallen in love the second he saw Regulus laugh like no one was around, he had noticed that his eyes crinkle, his mouth open, his body body curled forward clutching his stomach. He was loud when he laughed, a sound which he could hear over and over, and that's when he knew he wanted to hear that laugh, forever.

Regulus composed himself to reveal the news, but it was so funny even before he could say it, or maybe it was the lasting effect.

"I was laughing with Barty, or at him, I suppose," Regulus paused for a second to figure out the distinction, but shook his head and continued,

"because, well, he was testing out this spray bottle he had snagged from Sirius, when he found him near the dungeons. Apparently, it was laughing gas..? How does something like that even exist?" He scowled, an annoyed expression taking over his face as he remembered the experience.

If a lightbulb could have generated just above James' head it would have, because he just remembered what Sirius had been complaining to him about, how his prank had failed, and how James' had betrayed him by ditching the prank and hanging out with his 'shithead brother', something that James' did not agree with.

James started laughing so hard that he had to lean on the wall to support himself, and a frown took over Regulus' face.

"This isn't funny, okay? I felt like I was dying." Regulus complains, slapping his chest as if to empty himself of the gas.

James tugged on Regulus' tie to pull him close and asked with a teasing smile, "So, he wasn't making you laugh?"

A small smile graced his features, a one that seemed to have turned into his default expression whenever he was around James, "No, silly. No one makes me laugh like you do." he says, just before he kisses James.

....

guys idk if this is good or bad honestly. but I was feeling inspired.

hope this isn't as grossly terrible my mind is making it out to be, and also this is very unedited because I can't be bothered.

also idk about the ancient runes thing, i kinda forgot what subjects they even had

[bits-and-babs]

ok i know it's a very specific request but can you PLEASE do a softish joel x reader where they've been partners for a while and they have a lil soft slow dance moment to Fooled Around and Fell In Love and then like.. smut. but like a softish, needy, primal sort of smut iykwim.. i just love soft joel and need more. thank you 🫡

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K], Atta Girl [10.2K], PlayBoy [3K], Animal [4K]

Summary: Joel’s birthday is coming up, but it isn’t something to celebrate.

Word Count: 3K.

CW: Sad, made me tear up at some points. Touches on trauma, references to gore and violence. A little artsy again. Joel feels guilty, oral (f receiving).

Tease: “Christ- I’ve been neglectin’ you, Darlin’. How could I neglect such a pretty thing?”

Brass clatters against the small wooden table beside the front door to your shared apartment, jolting you from your sleep. It's Joel's keys, and he hasn't set them down quietly to not disturb you– instead, choosing to discard them with the toss despite knowing it would make a racket.

Even in your hazy consciousness between the dreamworld and whatever the fuck this was, you had enough of an idea to understand that this was Joel's attempt to ask for help. His lack of improper communication was less about pride than stubbornness, refusing to share his pain, especially after the raging argument that had preceded him leaving the house without you.

“No, you will be staying here this time,” Joel ended his speech, explaining his next smuggling run with an admittance you hadn't heard him utter or even considered that you might hear.

"Wait-your going without me?" You ask with a scoff, expecting Joel to drop the funny joke. He's not laughing.

"I need to do this one alone," Joel insists, his voice forceful as though his decision wasn't up for debate.

You had fought with him quite loudly but not unnecessarily. You presented to him all the logical questions of what if. What if someone attacked him? What if he got hurt in the smuggling tunnels, and a stray quicker had wandered in? What if Robert and his lackeys attempted some payback for the deal that had gone wrong last week?

It had all fallen on deaf ears, Joel shouldering through the door and ignoring your yells of protest.

The shuffling of Joel's leather boots against the kitchen floor is a relief to you, indicating his safety. It also sparks an unpalatable feeling of guilt, one that settles in your stomach and curdles when you consider the reason Joel had been particularly standoffish recently.

While Joel fixes himself a whiskey, you rise from the sofa slowly in an attempt to avoid detection. You sneak a glimpse of him and find him invested in pouring the amber liquid into a chipped crystal glass. Hurrying, you use the moment of distraction to slink into your shared bedroom and make a point to avoid his gaze.

Calendars were a long-forgotten relic of the past in the Apocalypse. Who would waste precious paper that they could use for a map on something to track what day it was? Regardless, without knowing the date or even what month it was, you always know when Joel's birthday is coming up.

The days would get shorter, and the dying light of the sunset painted the clouds orange much earlier in the day. Leaves would begin their metamorphosis and fade from a vibrant evergreen to a muted, pale rust colour. They’d be littered with cracks and holes as if they were the bodies that lay slumped on the streets outside the QZ, chunks of flesh ripped from their muscles by the jaws of the infected. You were sure that the caterpillars that had no doubt left the shark-bite-like indentations in the green membrane were much less brutal.

And then there was Joel, his mood taking a brutal hit as the memories came flooding back of how he spent the final seconds of his twenty-sixth birthday clinging to his limp daughter's body and screaming into the blackness. He'd washed his hands of Sarah's blood almost two decades ago, but when he looked at his palms, they were still stained crimson.

See, Joel’s birthday was marred with death, so much so that it reeked of decay. How could it be a celebration of his life, of surviving another year, when the whole world, including his daughter, was slaughtered in the time it would have taken for the wax candles on his birthday cake to melt—had he remembered to buy it?

Of course, his forgetfulness had saved his life. The cake’s contents would have turned him into one of those things, scratching at the mossy walls of the quarantine zone with their long nails. However, you are confident that the regret of not picking up the cake box after work kept Joel awake at night as summer gave way to autumn, wondering if it would have been so much easier to succumb to the spores.

Sinking to your knees at the foot of the double bed, its threadbare sheets crumpled and pushed to one side, you duck your head beneath the wooden frame to search for an old cardboard box. So worn now, the seams were practically disintegrating. You take care as you pull it across the floorboards and dig around inside for something in particular.

It's a box of mementoes shared by you and Joel to protect the items that matter most to you. There were little pictures in frames of loved ones, items of great significance. If Joel worried he might lose his precious watch on a mission, he would often leave it here.

Gently fishing around, you finally find what you're looking for. With a delicate touch, you pull out a black cassette tape. It's dusty and unplayed for years. Across its surface lay small, holographic stickers that glint rainbow under the warm light of the bedroom. Their shapes consist of unicorns, clouds and tiny hearts, all strewn haphazardly across the black plastic surface.

The ink on the centre label is written in scratchy child's writing, the lettering large and bold until the opposite end, the letters trailing and squished to fit: To Daddy. Lots of love, Sarah and uncle Tommy xoxoxox.

Rising to your feet, you make your way into the living room. Joel has settled into the couch; his skull set back against the headrest with his whiskey resting in his lap. He opens one squinty eye when he hears your footfalls, watching you cross the living room floor to the window.

“What’re you doin’?” He mumbles, voice gruff and hoarse.

“It’s too quiet in here,” you admit, avoiding his question as you open the cassette player that lay beside the radio that Joel spent all day listening out for. You’d found the little player on a smuggling run in the city and had nearly been chomped on the arm by a runner for it. You were gonna damn well use it!

Joel's eyes burn into your shoulder blades as you swap the cassette tape inside the machine. You can hear whispers of his thoughts in the stagnant air. What is she doing? Why can't she leave me alone? Do I want her to leave me alone?

The tape feeds into the player and settles into its lot with a click. It rings out in the silent room, and it sounds like the safety catch of a gun switching off. You can almost feel how Joel tenses, his muscles primed for war.

Instead of a bullet ripping through the air, a light drumbeat trickles from the player's speakers. You carefully twist the sound dial, raising the volume so Joel can hear the percussion bleed into the guitar.

When you turn to face him, there’s this crack in the carefully cultivated mask your partner wears. A devastating pain flashes across Joel’s features and almost has you backpedalling, reaching across to the button that would cease the agonising sound of his past.

“No-“ Joel speaks up, his voice uncharacteristically emotional. You swear you hear a tremor in it, freezing your body in place when he clears his throat awkwardly as if to hide the ruin that the earthquake of emotions had surfaced. “No… I wanna hear it.”

You swallow thickly, making your way over to the slumped body of your partner as the honey-sweet voice of Elvin Bishop floats across the room. Joel’s emotions had rid him of what little energy he had left, his muscles slumped and body almost curling inwards to suppress whatever reaction threatened to spill out of him.

Taking a leap, a terrifying guess, you slowly pry the whiskey tumbler from his hand, the bronze-syrup liquid appearing as a thin film of gold in the bottom of the crystal glass. Gently, you set it aside, the quiet ‘tnk’ of the cup causing Joel’s body to jolt slightly. Always on red alert, even amid grief.

Your fingertips press into his pulse as your hands wrap around Joel’s sinewy wrists. He’s ageing, his hair greying and the skin above his veins lightly leathery to the touch, but his heartbeat is strong. It pulses heavily against your prints, screaming out just how alive he is when you drag him off the sofa.

Joel defies expectations. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even groan in protest at the ache in his bones at having to stand again. Instead, he settles his head against your shoulder, wrapping his strong arms around you. He holds you so tight that your lungs wheeze in objection- but you don’t have it in you to complain because Joel sighs against your jugular, and it’s like the relief unwinds every rigid muscle in his body.

It can hardly be called dancing, but your body sways to the beat of the music like a pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth. Joel seems to lose himself in the hypnotic oscillation, pressing delicate kisses across the skin of your throat and inhaling the gritty cologne of apocalyptic life that you wear. You can almost hear the infomercial; “Top notes of sweat-musk and smoke from burnt corpses, base notes containing earthy soil and the metallic tang of blood. Heart notes contain devastating grief and an underlying desire to curl in a ball and die to escape this hellscape.”

Slowly, you slide your fingers into the roots of Joel’s silvering hair. He leans into your touch, groaning softly at the comfort he finds in the swirl of your fingerprints, massaging his scalp. He’s so at peace that you barely even notice him whisper the lyrics into your skin, enchanting it with the baritone of his husky voice.

“Free on my own; that's the way I used to be. But since I met you, baby, love's got a hold on me,” he murmurs, barely following the tune with how quietly he hums each syllable. You cling to him, casting your eyes to the mossy ceiling and revelling in a moment of vulnerability that Joel hadn’t afforded you in months.

“That how it happened?” You ask him with a slight teasing lilt to your voice. You may imagine the feeling of a smile against your throat, the smooth enamel of his teeth brushing the thin flesh.

“Somethin’ like that,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your pulse point. You’re sure he feels it flutter. Joel was never a man of many words, and knowing him as long as you have, you could be certain he would rather blow his own brains out than admit to a fairytale ‘love at first sight’ moment. His answer was the closest thing you would get to a confirmation of guilt.

You can’t help but giggle at his refusal to expose the inside of his heart to you, yet simultaneously unable to conceal his obvious adoration. His breath tickles your cheek as he exhales the carbon dioxide from his lungs. You’d breathe it in, if you could, even if you suffocated on it. A piece of you wanted every part of Joel in a desperate attempt to fill the hole in your heart left behind by your losses. By your Sarah.

Perhaps he could feel that in you because Joel pulled away from your neck for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours in the closest thing to ‘affection’ that the brutal smuggler could muster. The tip of his aquiline nose brushes up the sloping bridge of your own before pressing a kiss to your lips. Tender at first, an inevitable hunger quickly surpasses Joel’s desire to ease you with delicate kisses and sweet nothings as Elvin Bishop croons the confession that you cannot pry from your partner.

“I fooled around and fell in love….”

-✩-

It’s miserable at first. Joel’s kissing you like he needs to swallow you down to numb the pain, like those little white pills he knocks back with a shot of whiskey when he thinks you’re not looking. You find him sprawled on the sofa some days, mumbling Sarah’s name in his sleep as tears stream down his cheekbones and into the sparse hair of his beard.

It takes you both a moment, but when your back hits the mattress, something sparks up inside Joel. He abandons his distress in the bedroom doorway, planting kisses up the length of your stomach and sternum as he slots his hips between your thighs.

“Fuck, Joel-!”

“I know,” he mumbles, licking a stripe across your bare chest and swirling the tip of his tongue around your hardening nipple. “I ain’t been as attentive to my Darlin as I shoulda been.”

You attempt to ease him down from his deprecation, to remind him he’s been suffering, but he grinds the length of his clothed cock against your weeping cunt, and it’s as though your mind stalls, your protests overridden by a sigh of relief.

“Mhmm, that’s it,” he whispers, feverish with a kind of emotional need that you rarely see in your usually animalistic sexual encounters. “That’s it.”

Joel yanks your cargo pants off your hips, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband of the dirtied beige material to slip down your underwear too. He groans at the sight of your glistening pussy in the candlelight, sweeping his thumb through the slick mess between your folds and listening to the wet noise you make for him.

“Fuck,” he rasps, dragging the pad of his thumb over your clit and listening to you meek, watching your toes curl, “Christ, I’ve been neglectin’ you, Darlin’. How could I neglect such a pretty thing?”

“Joel, you’re hurti- Aghh-!”

You let out a strangled moan because Joel dips his face down and licks a hot stripe across the length of your cunt. It’s sloppy and desperate, and you feel the warmth of his exhale waft across your clit and spark hot embers deep in your abdomen.

Locks of Joel’s hair are wrapped tight around your trembling fingers, but Joel doesn’t relent. He drags his tongue against your throbbing clit, relishing how you taste and enjoying how the meat of your thighs muffle the music when they squeeze against his ears.

“Joel,” you beg him, voice needy and back arching against his ministrations. You want to touch him too, want to ease his own frustrations, but Joel approaches this like a punishment. He is serving time for abusing you like this, leaving you wanting beside him in bed due to what he believes is his own selfish actions in wallowing in his grief.

He lazily sinks his tongue into your entrance for a moment, lapping up more of the mess you leak across his face and groaning in delight at how your taste smothers him. He’d drown in it if you’d let him.

It takes you a moment, given he’s working you up into a frenzy, to note that Joel’s rutting his hips into the mattress in a feeble attempt to pleasure himself. He groans softly against your cunt, the vibrations stimulating you and tightening the coil settled deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Fu-uuuck, Joel-!” You keen his name, thighs thrown over his shoulders. The tip of his tongue dances slowly around the circumference of your clit once, twice, three times before swiping back and forth over it. Tears well in your eyes as he repeats the process, and you watch as the wetness on your lashes causes the image of his head between your thighs to reflect back at you like a kaleidoscope, fractured and duplicated and oh-so-beautiful.

“Mhmm,” Joel hums, his hands sliding up your ribs and squeezing at your breasts with his paws. His thumbs trace your nipples, and again your back is arching, your hips rutting against his chin and pushing your abused clit against his nose.

“Oh God, Oh God, that’s it-“ you’re telling him it feels good, but it sounds like you’re begging him to keep going, heels pushing into his back and dragging him impossibly closer to you. The aged, rotten, wooden frame of the bed creaks at your sloppy attempts to thrust against his mouth. You’re so tight, all wound up with the threat of an orgasm, and Joel is whispering against your cunt.

“Baby, come on,” he murmurs, using his thumb to swipe back and forth a little more rapidly against your clit as he eats you out, smearing your wetness over his lips and beard, “That’s it, Darlin’, that’s it.”

You wheeze out a version of his name that sounds foreign to your ears, slurring the single syllable as your orgasm blooms through you. It’s slow at first, creeping, but then it burns through you. It detonates like the bombs they dropped on Outbreak Day, devastating your nerve endings and crushing your body inwards. Joel continues to coax you through it with his tongue, and you’re feebly pushing his head away as it grows and grows, the peak seemingly nowhere in sight.

Finally, it subsides, Joel groaning loudly as he settles his head on your lower abdomen, still grinding his hips into the mattress like a schoolboy. You’re giggling through your heaving breaths, delirious thanks to the liquid warmth that settles in your bones.

“Oh fuck-“ you whisper, voice hoarse and broken from yelling out Joel’s name. He offers no vocal response, instead kissing at the junction where your thighs meet your pelvis.

The action means just as much as those three unspoken words.

END

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