#but not now. its his lunch break time

[snegt]

Had a questionable day yesterday, so i drew my au/ep-5-reimagining rhys to cheer myself up :D

(also here, have his au design! His hand is based on fibber)

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

OKAY. OKAY. WINTERS FAMILY TORMENT NEXUS. as i've said before this is all REALLY vague rough outlines bc i wanted to bounce it all back n forth with u. but. what i have:

>winters family (mark & ashe & fridged mom/wife) live in a location hit by the simurgh

>mark is at work when she arrives. something horrific happens at home. maybe his wife is injured or hurt, but not killed. ashe (7/8/9) triggers. whatever his powers are, they. do Not help heal his mom. in fact the opposite.

>mark tears back home asap instead of leaving as soon as he hears her song, actively choosing to stay in her effect zone for his family. finds newly triggered baby ashe & the rest of that scene.

>theyve spent too long in the affected zone to be allowed to go free, especially since ashe triggered from it. mark nukes his whole past life & ashe's to escape without undergoing all the protocols. he spends ages doing shit work to support him & ashe bc theyre both legally dead, ends up working for overlord, manages to get enough of a fake past to get through cauldron background checks & get powers? it'll pay so much better than the grunt work he's doing now & he has to support ashe (powered)(legally dead)(would probably be executed if anyone Found Out)....

anyway to me the trickster is like. the endgame of this specific simurgh rube goldberg. somehow it doesn't end horrifically, for once! but it gets. bad. the fact that they're simurgh survivors is always looming over their heads. its why mark fucking freaks out when ashe joins the wards. literally have nothing more specific than this though u gotta help me put meat on these bones!!!!! STOP "being responsible" and "doing work" and stuff START thinking incessantly abt nhw ashe!!!!! i don't even know his powers bc i have no clue how he triggered!!!! augh. god. them..... mods torture that blonde man in the most narratively satisfying and fucked up way possible!!!!

QUIT YOUR JOB JOIN MY EMO WARDS !!!!!!!!!!!!! god dude god dude I'm gonna be thinking about this all fucking DAY . who needs to be responsible and have a job. not me!!!! FUCK !!!!!!!! dude im just. thinking abt mark being at work getting the notice to evacuate and starting to hear the song and. bc it's important to me that he's a little bit of a coward. it takes him longer than he will ever admit to decide to go back to his family. he definitely hesitates and hates himself for it because. what if he had gotten there 10 minutes earlier! who fucking knows! he never will!!

god man I'm just thinking about. that scene where they're in the hospital waiting to hear back about noelle and the person (ai?) at the desk is giving them the rundown of all the containment procedures and handing them paperwork and asking them if they can pay for the medical care. how fucked up would that be to hear after you're in the midst of losing everything. mark winters the universes most hated man. I looooooove the satisfaction in thinking about that snap decision where he goes from "relatively normal if a little emotionally repressed but otherwise does his best suburban dad" to "my wife is dead and my son is fucked up and there's this fucking sound in my head that won't go away I'm about to erase everything and break several laws in order to get us out of here" and how that eventually leads into. supervillain. it's just soooooooo. sickos haha yessss the downfall of this fucking miserable blonde guy. when do you think he consciously made that choice. he heard "you're never going to get out of here and live a normal life again" do you think he just . sat with that for a while. ashe unresponsive either due to shock or fear or the trauma of triggering/whatever his powers are and mark just has to sit there. by himself. like what the fuck am I gonna do now. auaghghghghhhh I need 2 make him so miserable forever. fuck that guy i hate his ass (<< me when I lie)

I THINK . I NEED TO SIT FOR A WHILE AND FINISH THESE NEXT COUPLE CHAPTERS AND PROCESS A LITTLE MORE BEFORE I MAKE A SOLID DECISION ON ASHES POWERS. but you knowwwww it's gonna be some fucked up horror shit. it has to be. it has to be something fucked up enough that mark forbids him from using his powers and keeps him . at home isolated for his own good. but not TOO fucked that he wouldn't be able to join the wards.

actually speaking of. HOW THE FUCK DOES HE JOIN THE WARDS. I know mark basically fucking erased their whole identity and everything but. there's noooo way the prt would let this kid join them. right?????? right????. how the hell would that even be a possibility with all the precautions in place for simurgh survivors. THEY EXPLODED THAT ONE CAPE GUYS HEAD BECAUSE HE STAYED IN PROXIMITY FOR A LITTLE BIT TOO LONG. maybe it's unofficial. maybe he never Officially joins them but he sneaks out while mark is gone and meets the boys somewhere and they become friends out of costume first. and then they learn about his powers and ashe is like "I can help!" and helps them like. as a rogue or something. but hes never registered as an official cape. is this anything. im thinking about him so much what the fuuuuuck have we done. what have we done !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[moki-dokie]

how to make 19 year old boy who came of age during the pandemic and never had a real real job before now realize he needs to Chill The Fuck Out and be Less eagar about working for free holy shit he is impossible to wrangle

[dwemers]

I’m so excited I’m like literally shaking

[heart-shaped-chains]

Went out to lunch with my family and it was really nice! I'm crying over him again but I know that I'll heal. I just. Have so much love and affection in my heart. It's so overwhelming keeping in, I just need someone to give it to. And I can't find anyone who wants it. T-T

[tiredassmage]

also i promise i'll hopefully. sometime this week [maybe this month. this week is busy. maybe by the end of the month is a more feasible goal. anyway] actually manage to translate whatever the fuck is going on between alucren and tyr [one-sided as hell, btw] out of my dms and into like. a tumblr post but i just. i just need you all to know he's a delight and he's an idiot and he's my hamster running endlessly on a wheel and also he's a bag of m&m's that's stuck in the vending machine and i'm shaking him around. anyway.

you can, however, have this in the meantime.

and my single incoherent, possibly, without context giggle about them tonight is both of them are so fucking imperial sometimes in. usually slightly different flavors of it but also somewhat similar but also. shakes them. [laminated paper wobble noises] y'know?

anyway alucren's a fucking loser and i love him.

[kylowrehn]

.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

summary: in which carmy falls for the sweet café owner that supplies him with endless americanos

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

warning: it's a little bit of a slow burn. sorry. i'm a sucker for it and i feel like carmy is a slow burn kinda guy. 18 +, cursing, smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), fingering, they use protection guys! i deserve a pat in the back. nothing too wild. oh, and very brief mention of suicide.

a/n: i started writing this way back in october and then it was nearly done and i abandoned it. well i finally got around to completing it tonight!

this is my first time ever writing for carmy and i tried my best writing this. i love carmy and the show but i didn’t expect it to be hard to write him as a character. i wanted to get him right so i took my time with it and didn’t rush it. hopefully you guys like my carmy. enjoy!

i think i've had this stored in my drafts for like 4 months and it's time for me to set it free.

The cigarettes were not enough anymore. No matter how many smoke breaks Carmy took, he still felt the edge on his shoulders. A fear laced with anxiety that overtook him.

After deciding that blowing through yet another wall in his restaurant was the way to go, Carmy took a break. He needed it before he used the sledgehammer to destroy the restaurant in its entirety, along with his dream.

He remembers a coffee shop only a block away from The Bear and thinks he could use a coffee right about now. Maybe the mixture of caffeine and nicotine will be able to relax his shoulders, if only for an hour.

As soon as he opens the door, the smell of ground coffee beans greets him. He looks around, taking in the cozy ambiance the decorative wood brings to the place and the splashes of warm yellow that lighten it up.

Then he sees you, and his focus shifts entirely. His eyes only see you.

"Hi, welcome to Bee Hive!" You chirp with a small smile.

Carmy freezes, forgetting why he's there in the first place. He slowly steps up to the register, where you patiently wait for him. It's just after the lunch rush, so you're in no hurry.

He finds he's acting like a teenager who has just seen a pretty girl. Only he's not a teenager, and you're more than a pretty girl.

"What can I get for you today?" You ask, not noticing the effect you've had on him. You take a sharpie out of your yellow apron, preparing to scribble down his order in a cup.

Carmy has perfected the empty on the outside but screaming on the inside face. Strangers don't tend to know he's almost always losing his shit.

"I-I don't…sorry," Carmy looks at you briefly before diverting his eyes. He apologizes in a flurry, looking for an excuse for his weird behavior, "Uh, it's my first time here. What do you recommend?"

"It's not a problem," you say softly as if to calm him, "I'm a simple girl. I love the latte, but if you're looking for something stronger, the americano is one of the favorites."

Carmy nods as you ramble about the drinks, where the coffee beans come from, and the different notes of each blend. He hangs onto every word that slips from your lips. The static in his brain clearing up for the first time in hours.

It ends too soon as you realize you're talking too much and probably overwhelmed him. You sheepishly smile at him and trail off, but he continues to stare, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll take the Americano," Carmy nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. Although he had been hanging to every one of your words, he was too focused on the shape of your lips and the sweet tone of your voice.

"Good choice," you nod, grabbing a cup from the tray beside you, "What's your name?"

Carmy looks up, slightly alarmed, as if you've asked for his social security number. "What?" He thinks you'll be forward and ask for his number next, seemingly forgetting how coffee orders work.

"Your name? For the order?" You explain, trying to ease his worries. He's odd, but in an endearing way. You believe this is his first time here because you're confident you would've remembered him.

"Fuck, right, yeah," he nervously says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "My name's Carmen."

"Your Americano will be right out, Carmen," you tell him, capping your sharpie back up.

Carmy quickly pays and stands to the side to wait for his order. He forces himself to not look at you or in your direction as you take other customers' orders. He just knows he's made a fool of himself already. Not that it matters. Why would it matter? He's there for the coffee. Nothing else, no one else.

As he walks out of Bee Hive, he sips his coffee. His shoulders instantly drop, and his fear-induced anxiety starts to dissipate for the moment. He's unsure if the effect is because of the caffeine or the thoughts of your pretty smile.

Visiting your coffee shop becomes routine for Carmy. Whenever things at The Bear become crazy -or he starts to lose his fuckin' mind- he makes his way to Bee Hive with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

For twenty minutes, he's free of Richie's constant hounding, Sugar's struggles with the permits and scheduling, and Sydney's disappointment because the menu is still extremely underway.

Each time he's stopped by, you've been there to greet him, and each time, you've left a little heart by Carmen's name, which makes his heart race in a peculiar way. His hands would touch his chest to check if it was heartburn, but it didn't feel like that. It's not anxiety either cause he knows pretty well how that feels.

All he knows is he hasn't done anything to deserve such a gesture. He's convinced himself you draw little hearts for everyone because he's not special.

One Thursday afternoon, Carmy realizes he doesn't know your name. He looks for a name tag, but you're not wearing one on your yellow apron. He should know your name if you insist on making small talk despite his short answers.

He can't help it. He gets too in his head to answer like a normal person, so his answers come out choppy and dry.

"Alright, Carmen, your order will be right out," you say, handing his cup to one of the baristas. You always hold out and ask him what he wants to order. He has the right to change his mind anytime, but for now, he's stuck with the americano, which he drowns in sugar.

As curiosity eats at him, he gathers the courage to ask. "Thanks. Hey, uh, I've-I’ve never gotten your name…” Carmy says, cursing at himself for not formulating the question correctly. His hand comes up to grip his hair instinctually.

Your smile widens when he asks your name. The silly crush you've developed for your customer fluttering to life. It's just a crush over a stranger, nothing to write home about.

You tell him your name but follow it with "-call me Honey. Everyone knows me by that name. I'm sure if you ask my friends about me with my real name, you'll throw them for a loop."

You're rambling, hoping he doesn't think calling you by your nickname is weird. Then again, how can he judge when he has a sister people call 'Sugar' and he and his siblings also don the nickname 'Bear.'

"Honey." Carmy repeats your nickname, smiling as he finds it fitting. "In that case, call me Carmy."

"Nice to properly meet you, Carmy," you say, grinning.

Like all the days before, Carmy steps aside and waits for his coffee. He doesn't let himself continue the conversation or ask more about you even if it’s everything he wants to do.

It's rare for Carmy to be in a good mood, and whenever it happens, it doesn't tend to last. His goal of opening a restaurant in 12 weeks makes it impossible for him to relax and enjoy the ride. To prolong this unusual feeling, Carmy stops by Bee Hive on his way to The Bear.

"Have you made your boss angry, Honey?" He asks as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He ordered the americano as he always does.

"No…why do you ask?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"Uh, 'cause you-you're always here. Do you not take days off? Not that I'm complaining. I-I like seeing you here." Carmy's words get quieter as he speaks, red creeping up his neck. So much for trying to make a joke.

You look around the room and tell him, "Imma let you in on a little secret."

Carmy follows your hand, waving him to get closer. The smell of cigarettes invades your senses as you get close to him. You'd never admit that the mix of his cigarettes and your coffee is addicting. As both lean over the counter, you whisper, "I'm the boss. I can't run away even if I wanted to."

"You own the coffee shop," Carmy pans in shock.

Carmy is more than surprised at your words. Especially now that he knows how expensive it is to open a business. You can't be a day over 25 and own a successful coffee place. There is hope, after all.

"I do," you nod, standing straight once more.

A couple of years ago, you had inherited a hefty amount of money from an estranged aunt. Fresh out of college and with no real plan, you thought it would be a good moment to follow your dream and open the cozy café.

"How do you do it?" Carmy asks, amazed at the girl smiling at him. "I don't know if you know, but, um, I-I'm opening the restaurant around the block. Used to be The Beef?" He finishes grimly as he points to his side of the block.

"Oh, yeah. The guys who worked there helped me move some equipment when I first opened two years ago," you reveal, "Tell you what, whenever you have a break, come around. I'll give you a free americano and tell you all about it. Neighbor to neighbor."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Carmy agrees. "I'll take you up on that."

Weeks go by, and Carmy seemingly forgets about Bee Hive and your pending conversation. You try not to overthink about his absence or how you might've scared him away. He's probably just busy remodeling his restaurant. You know better than anyone how much time that takes.

Still, his presence has become part of your routine, and you can't help but look at the door each time the bell rings. You expect to see him walking up to the counter, the remnants of cigarette smoke coming out his nose as he breathes.

You're pretty close to your assumption because Carmy has been dealing with the fire suppression test. They didn't fail the test once but twice, and if they didn't pass it on the third try, their plan to open the restaurant in 12 weeks goes out the window. Fak has tried everything, and nothing works.

He'd sent Richie once on a coffee run, but the fuckin' idiot went to the nearest Starbucks. Carmy had been looking forward to tasting your coffee and seeing his name in the cup with the little heart because he's 100% sure he's the only Carmen you know. It's not a common name in these parts of town.

One very early morning, he's walking to work, and as he passes Bee Hive, he sees you inside, wiping tables down before you open at 6:30.

Impulsively, he knocks on the glass, not giving himself the time to overthink things. You turn to look at the window and see him standing outside, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his familiar plaid jacket to protect himself from the chilly March air.

"Hey stranger," you greet him, opening the door and inviting him in.

"Hi," he breathes out, staring at you, "you're here early," he tries to casually mention.

You roll your eyes dramatically and say, "It's a downside of the job. Did you know people want coffee at the crack of dawn?"

You try acting as nonchalant as possible. It's not like you missed seeing one of your favorite customers, his beautiful blue eyes, or the way he rocks a simple white t-shirt.

"I had no idea," Carmy smiles, bringing his tattooed hand up to his lips, "I, uh, usually drink mine at night." That much is true. On those sleepless nights when insomnia takes over him, the best remedy is coffee.

"Would you make an exception and join me for a morning coffee at the crack ass of dawn?" Anxiously, you play with the rings on your fingers. It feels like you're asking the guy on a date when it's just a friendly coffee.

"As long as you have some business advice to spare?" Carmy responds shakily. He briefly looks down the street to glimpse at his restaurant. It's too early for anyone to be there yet.

"Deal."

Throwing the towel over your shoulder, you make your way behind the counter. Carmy attempts to make small talk with you as you prepare both drinks.

This is the first time he's watching you in action since you tend to stick to the cash register when he's around. It's not a coincidence. After the first time he came to Bee Hive, you wanted to see more of him, so you stationed yourself at the register where you'd be sure to see him, and he'd see you.

"Here you go." You place his coffee mug on the table along with yours before disappearing momentarily and returning with an orange soufflé coffee cake. You're pulling all the stops for Carmy to leave a good impression.

Carmy thanks you and sips his coffee, "Wow, this is fire!" He expected to taste an americano, but what you prepared was entirely different. He can make out hints of hazelnut and caramel in the coffee.

"Thanks. I took the liberty of changing your order. You can always come back to the americano, though…" you shrug shyly, looking at him over the rim of your mug.

"I-I appreciate it. Thanks." Carmy throws you a nervous grin. He gestures with his tattooed hand to dig into the cake you brought out. He shouldn't be the only one eating.

You and Carmy share the cake as you talk about yourselves and the crazy businesses you own. Somehow, talking to you comes easy to him. He's still nervous and scared to fuck things up, but the warm coffee and your even warmer smile ease him into it.

"How do you do it? This place is always packed, and you seem like you run a tight ship," Carmy wonders, playing with the fork. The cake is long gone, although the notes of orange remain on his tongue. Would you taste the same?

"It wasn't without mistakes. I had to learn a lot from my fuck ups and listen to my team because although I'm the owner, they are the ones doing most of the work. Whenever there's a flaw, they are the first to know," you speak softly, afraid of ruining the calm ambiance you've set up, twirling the small amount of coffee left in your mug.

It's your favorite part of morning coffee. When you have just the smallest bit of coffee left, and you know you'll never drink it because it's cold, but it gives you an excuse to remain where you are.

"So, all I gotta do is listen?" It's funny you say that because Carmy listens, but his friend's voices get muddled somewhere along the way. As much as he tries to focus on them, they merge together and form a cacophony in his head.

"A lot of listening and a lot of experimentation. I've been open for two years, and it's only been in the last six months that I can confidently tell you we found our groove," you admit with a grimace.

Bee Hive is your baby, but bringing it to life was everything but easy. You messed up so many times, costing you so much money. You didn't know shit about owning a business or building one from the ground up. Doing research and putting your pride aside to ask for help got you through it.

"I've only been doing this for, like, less than a fuckin' year, and I already want to pull my hair out," Carmy admits with a pitiful laugh.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you it gets better soon," you say apologetically, reaching for his hand that rests on the table.

Carmy freezes, glancing at your hand on top of his. He hasn't got a clue what to fucking do with the display of affection. Was it a display of affection? He doesn't fucking know. "It's, uh, it's, uh, it's alright. As-as long as you give me coffee, I think I can make it through," Carmen furrows his eyebrows as he stutters through the sentence.

"I can't wait to see what the award-winning chef does," you say, bringing your hand back to your lap, none the wiser to Carmy's internal struggle.

He should've done something to keep your hand on his. Place his other hand on yours or fucking turn his hand around to grasp it. He liked feeling your warm skin on his. It hasn't been a minute since you pulled away, and he's craving it already. It's ridiculous. Is he really that touch-starved that he's seeking affection from a near stranger?

He coughs and darts his eyes between the wooden table top and you, "Fuck. You-you know about that?"

"I might've done some research after finding out you're opening the restaurant. I got curious. I'm sorry." Apologizing is your default thing to do. Messing things up is your area of expertise. You really didn't think he'd mind you mentioning it.

"No, no, no, uh, you don't have to apologize. You just caught me off guard," Carmy shakes his head, reassuring both of you.

"Okay, good," you lightly smile at him, averting your eyes when your gazes meet.

If there's a time for you to make a move, it's now. Taking a shaky breath, you speak up, "I was wondering if you'd ever like to-."

A loud knock on the glass door interrupts you. You and Carmy jump and look towards the source of the noise. It's one of your regular clients, waving at you to open up. Looking at your watch, you see it's 6:30 already.

"Shit. I'm-I'm sorry I took so much of your time," Carmy apologizes, picking up his mug and the plate to put away.

You grab his wrist to make him stop in his tracks, "Relax. I enjoyed talking to you. Maybe we can do it again soon?"

Carmy nods wide-eyed. He likes the idea just as much as you do. You take away the mug and plate with a soft 'okay.' He then follows you to the door as you unlock it and turn the sign to 'open.'

"I, um, gotta go work on the menu. I'll probably be back later for another coffee?" Carmen asks you as if he's asking for permission, which you find adorable.

"I'll be behind the register," you say, watching him walk away. He turns his head back for a moment, and you catch the smile gracing his lips as yours turns to mimic him.

"Oh, he's cute," your customer, an older lady, says, watching him go along with you. "It's about time you got a boyfriend."

"Mrs. O'Hara, here for your tea?" You ask her, ignoring the comment about your love life. That woman will set you up with anyone. She does love her tea, though, and expects you to provide it on time.

It's slow, but Carmen warms up to you. Instead of grabbing his coffee to go, he now drinks it at the café, coincidentally around the same time you take your break.

He's been hesitantly opening up. It's not like he's telling you about how fucked up his family is or how his brother committed suicide. More often, it's about the restaurant and his work as a chef, the struggles of getting every permit they need on a tight schedule since they are supposed to open in about four weeks now, or the occasional childhood memory. It's everything you need to know at this stage.

You love listening to Carmy talk, even if you have to coax it out of him sometimes. He's passionate about the restaurant despite all the stress that comes from it, and he adores the people he works with. He's shy but not in a dorky way because he's actually fascinating. Before meeting him, you never knew that collecting denim was a thing.

The smell of cigarettes that clings to him is also tightly laced with his character. When you step outside to get some sun and the scent of someone smoking hits you, your heart instantly speeds up, hoping it's him coming for his daily americano, or to come swoop you away into a sunset.

"-I fell on my ass in the middle of the street. I was freaking out, thinking I was gonna get run over by a car," you exclaim as you tell Carmy about the crazy Christmas you spent in New York last year.

"It's New York. You probably would have been run over," Carmy chuckles along with you. "There was this one time I was running late and-" His phone vibrating interrupts him.

"Sorry, it's just the fridge guy," he tells you with a furrow of his eyebrows. You notice he does that a lot when he's thinking deeply. Carmy silences it and looks back over to you.

"You should pick that up. A busted fridge is the last thing you need. Trust me. Been there, done that." You encourage him to take the call. The restaurant is more important than your story about how you bruised your coccyx in New York.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Carm! Call him back before you forget," you insist, grabbing his empty cup to trash it. You don't give him any other option, leaving him there to help your employees with a faulty machine.

He watches you closely, closer than ever before. He allows himself to watch how you frown at the machine and how your ringed fingers fumble with the knobs. His eyes keep trailing down involuntarily, and they take in how nicely your jeans hug your ass.

He goes into a spiral into these old pair of Levi jeans popular in the 90s and how they would fit nicely with the shape of your hips and legs. Carmy continues on the tangent, imagining himself peeling them off your body.

The phone vibrating in his hand snaps him out of it. Clearing his throat, he picks up the phone and walks outside. He waves at you through the window as he makes his way back to The Bear. Your frustration at the machine vanishes momentarily as you wave back, except the machine splatters, forcing you to redirect your attention. When you look outside again, he's gone.

Stakes are high at The Bear. There's less than four weeks until Friends and Family, and there is much to do. Marcus has returned from Copenhagen and is working on the desserts. Tina is doing her job as the new sous chef. Fak and Sweeps are helping out wherever they can. And Richie is being Richie, trying to be open but resisting change.

"I need coffee or a pop. Anything with caffeine," Sydney says, throwing her head back. She and Carmen have been working on the chaos menu for hours, and she keeps messing up. Carmy insists that it's okay that they'll adjust and get it right soon, but she's beginning to lose hope.

"Me too. I'd kill for an espresso," Natalie agrees, softly rubbing her hand over her growing bump.

"I thought you couldn't have caffeine cause of the baby," Richie mentions, remembering Tiff's time while pregnant.

"I don't need you to fuckin' tell me what I can or can't eat, Richie," Natalie yells, glaring at him. Although he's right, the doctor told her to limit her caffeine intake. Hard to do when she's up all night thinking about everything she needs to do for The Bear.

"Shit. I'm sorry for fucking caring," Richie screams back, lifting his hands up in defense.

"I can go to the coffee place down the block. Get everyone something," Carmy pipes up, looking forward to seeing you today.

Natalie is quick to shoot that idea down, "You can't. The fridge guy is coming in 20 minutes."

"Fuck, that's right," Carmy groans, digging his head in his hands. His fingers rake through his hair, messing up his curls. He wanted to see you and talk to you, even if it was for five short minutes.

"I'll go," Sydney sighs. She needs to leave the kitchen for more than five minutes, or she'll go crazy, "Just tell me what you guys want to order."

Natalie grumbles about getting decaf, Richie orders a plain black coffee, and Carmy asks for his americano. As Sydney leaves to ask Marcus, Carmy yells after her, "Please, go to Bee Hive. If you get Starbucks, I'm gonna fucking lose it."

Richie and Natalie exchange a look. Richie because he's confused, and Natalie because she knows something is happening with Carmy. He's never been picky over coffee. In fact, they have an old coffee machine in the office that now goes unused because he's always at that coffee shop.

"Sorry, I didn't get the fuckin' memo. Since when is Starbucks bad?" Richie frowns, looking to get a rise out of Carmy.

"I don't think it's about the coffee, cousin," Natalie responds, directing her gaze towards her brother, who is hunched over the counters, chopping vegetables.

"If it's not about the coffee, what is it about?" Richie questions, crossing his arms.

"Shut the fuck up, Sugar," Carmy grumbles, looking at his sister with a glare. He already knows where she's going. She tried to bring it up a couple of days ago after she walked by the coffee shop and saw him being friendly with you.

Natalie smiles and responds, "Carmy has a crush on the barista."

"That's ridiculous. I don't have a crush on her." Carmy shakes his head, avoiding Richie and Natalie's eyes on him. They always do this. They gang up on him if he shows even the slightest interest in a girl. They think they can help, but all they do is embarrass him.

"Come on, Bear. Why else would you go almost every day to get coffee?" Natalie asks, giving him a look.

"Because it's good fuckin' coffee. Jesus, it's not that deep." Carmy grabs the veggies he chopped and drops them into a container to use later.

"It's okay to admit you like a pretty girl, cousin! I'm excited for you! Makes you human and not a lonely hermit," Richie jokes, pushing on Carmy's buttons. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"I swear to God, Richie. Shut the fuck up," Carmy points at him angrily.

"No, I should go with Sydney and see who this girl is!" Richie says, walking out of the half-built kitchen.

Carmy follows him instantly, "You're not going fuckin' anywhere, fuckin' jagoff." He's turning red from anger, seeing Richie with his mocking smile. Natalie follows behind them, amused at the situation. It reminds her of the banters they used to get in with Mickey.

"Admit that you like her," Richie shrugs, giving him a choice.

"No, I won't," Carmy refuses. "You always do this shit."

"Then, I'm going," Richie nods, stepping towards the door.

"Fuck! Shit, alright. I like her, okay? Don't fucking go anywhere," Carmy yells, rubbing a hand on his face out of frustration. It's like he's not allowed to keep anything good to himself.

"Was that so hard?" Richie grins, clapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," Carmy grumbles, walking back to the kitchen. Natalie follows him with a smile, shaking her head at Richie.

Carmy sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He has yet to admit that he likes you more than he should. He's been avoiding it, afraid of what it might lead to, or rather, what it might not.

He couldn't let Richie go see you. He has a big fuckin' mouth and will tell you Carmy has a crush on you whether it's true or not. Just like that, he feels the sour taste in his mouth, his heartburn making an appearance. Carmy should go look for his pepto before it gets worse.

Unaware of the argument back at The Bear, Sydney walks to Bee Hive. She's walked past many times but has yet to have the time to stop and try it out.

As she waits in line, she reads over the drinks menu. It's clear that it's been carefully curated. Starbucks has nothing on this menu. She can see why Carmy would prefer to come here instead.

When it's her turn to order, Sydney takes out her phone to recite everyone's drink order. She also points to a few pastries, thinking Marcus would like to try some of them and get inspiration. That and she knows Natalie will enjoy them as well.

You're sitting at a table close to the pickup counter. You often find yourself all over the store, ensuring everything goes smoothly. Sometimes, you stop to talk to your regulars and see how they're doing.

You notice Sydney struggling with all the cups she has to carry. It's proving difficult despite the to-go trays your barista put them in. Deciding to approach her, you ask, "Do you need help?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks," Sydney responds with a nervous smile. She's trying hard to grab everything, including the box with the pastries.

You continue watching her struggle because you know she needs help. You let her try and figure it out for one more minute before stepping in again when she almost drops two of the drinks, "Need some help now?"

"Yeah," Sydney sighs, "I guess I can leave one of the trays here, go to the restaurant, and come back for the rest," she speaks mostly to herself.

"Are you going far?"

"No, just the restaurant down the block," Sydney responds with a sigh, scratching her eyebrow as she tries to figure out the logistics of carrying the drinks. She could get a box to put everything in.

You perk up at her response. The only restaurant down the block is Carmen's. Could she work there? "Carmy's restaurant?"

"You know Carmy?" Sydney asks, tilting her head. Maybe Nat was right. Carmy spends his time here because of the woman in front of her.

"He comes here often. Anyway, I can go with you to help you out. It's not far, and I'd feel bad if your drinks got cold." You offer to help her out because you're a nice person. Not because you want a chance to see the curly-haired man you are developing feelings for.

"You really don't have to…"

"It's really not a problem," you press, grabbing one of the to-go trays and motioning for her to lead the way.

Sydney sighs in defeat and nods, "Thanks. I'm Sydney, by the way."

"I'm Honey," you smile, following her outside.

You chat all the way to the restaurant with Sydney. She reminds you of Carmy in some ways, so you can see why they are friends. Before arriving at the restaurant, Sydney apologizes in advance for any sort of mess there might be, including yelling.

As you near the building under renovation, your palms start to sweat. Maybe you shouldn't have come. You're showing up unannounced, and he's probably too busy to talk to you anyway. You can slip in and out without him noticing. That's the goal now.

You open the door for Sydney, letting her go through first, and quietly follow her into the restaurant. There's no time to escape, as all eyes are instantly on you.

Richie is arguing with Fak when he sees you walk in. He narrows his eyes as Carmy looks in your direction from the kitchen. With just one glance to Carmy's face, he knows who you're supposed to be.

"Guess I didn't have to go anywhere. She came to me," Richie whispers, rushing out the door.

"Shut the fuck up. Where are you going? Don't embarrass me!" Carmy whispers out to Richie unsuccessfully.

"Oh, you'll do that all by yourself," Richie throws over his shoulder.

"Honey, hey, what-what're you doing here?" Carmy speaks, not giving Richie a chance to open his big mouth. He stands between you and Richie, blocking him for the time being.

"Sydney needed help with the drinks," you answer nervously, averting your eyes.

"Oh, thanks for that. You didn't have to," Carmy approaches you and takes the drinks from your hands. His fingers brush with yours momentarily, causing you both to blush.

"I did, or else you probably wouldn't have anything to drink," you whisper to him.

Sydney, Fak, and Richie all watch the interaction amusedly. Richie has a big teasing grin on his face as he makes a plan in his head.

"Hi, I'm Richie! Carmy's cousin," he introduces himself, shoving Carmy to the side and shaking your hand enthusiastically. "I gotta say Carmen right here is obsessed with your coffee. He's banned us from getting Starbucks."

Carmy curses under his breath as Richie does precisely what he tells him not to. He has the urge to throw the coffee at him and run away.

"Is that right?" You ask, amused, looking over at Carmy with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Richie answers for him as Carmy tries to find the right words to say. "Cousin, why don't you give the nice lady a tour of the place?"

"It's not done yet. Could be dangerous," Carmy hopelessly says with a gulp.

"Nonsense! You'll take care of her!" Richie insists. He takes the coffee from Carmy's hands and pushes him in your direction. "Go give her a tour."

Richie, Sydney, and Fak all disappear to the office to stay out of the way and try to snoop simultaneously. Fak sends Carmy a not-so-discreet thumbs-up that makes you giggle.

He's internally screaming at his so-called friends but is glad to see you. It was all he wanted before Sydney left to get their drinks. It's strange having you here at The Bear, though. He's so used to seeing you in your own space back at Bee Hive.

Trying to make things better, you say, "Sorry you've been roped into this. You probably have better things to do. I can go-"

Carmy doesn't let you finish. "No, stay. I want to show you around."

"Let's see what you got then, Berzatto," you grin, following him to the kitchen.

Carmy takes his time showing you The Bear. He wants you to stay. He wants to spend time with you but doesn't really know how to say it. So he takes it slow, answers your questions about the restaurant, shows you the front and how everything will be laid out, and introduces you to the ones around, including the fridge guy working on the handle.

Sadly, you get a call from Bee Hive asking you to come back. Carmy walks you outside, dreading having to say goodbye.

"I'm really excited for The Bear to open. You have a great place and team," you tell Carmy.

"I really got lucky with them, huh?" He asks, playing with a dish towel.

"I gotta go. I'll see you later, Berzatto." You don't know where you got the guts to lean towards him and kiss his cheek.

Carmy stays still as his face heats up. You start walking away and throw him a smile over your shoulder. When you're a distance away, he touches the cheek you kissed. Back inside, Richie runs over to Sugar to tell her what he just witnessed.

It's late when Carmy leaves The Bear. As he walks to the train station, he has his hands stuffed in his jacket pocket. On his way, he sees a lone light turned on in your café. Crossing the street to check it out, he sees you're still there with glasses perched on your nose in front of the computer.

He tries the door, and to his luck, it's open. You look in his direction, startled, but relax once you see it's him.

"Nice glasses," Carmy teases, pulling out a chair to sit.

"Are you making fun of me?" You purse your lips, propping your chin on your palm.

"No, I…I think you look cute with them," Carmy admits. After a stern talk from Sugar and Richie, he's realized he should probably make a proper move on you because if what they say is true, you also have a crush on him.

"Thanks," you blush, the light from your screen making it obvious to Carmy, who can't stop the corners of his lips from turning up into a smile.

"Late night?"

"One of my baristas is moving out of state. I have to find someone new, preferably who has experience," you say with a sigh. Glancing at him, you add, "Are you perhaps interested in the position?"

"Poaching me from my own restaurant, nice. I'll let you know I'm an excellent worker," Carmy jokes, tapping his fingers on the table.

There's no doubt in your mind he's an excellent worker. He has to be if he's considered one of the best up-and-coming chefs. Or to work in one of the best restaurants in the world with three Michelin stars.

"I don't know. I'll need references," you speak as if not believing him.

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you that Carmy is quick to fill, "So, uh, have you had dinner yet by chance?" This is it.

You shake your head no and look at him with hopeful eyes.

"Wanna go grab pizza? I know a place," he asks, finding your gaze on him.

"Say no more," you say, closing your laptop and taking off your glasses. "I'm starving."

Carmy waits for you to lock Bee Hive and grab your things. Then, you both walk to the pizza place. To pass the time, you and Carmy talk about your days and anything that comes to mind. Nothing serious as you get to know each other.

Waiting in line to order the pizza, you tell him all about your nickname and how you were donned 'Honey' to everyone who knows you. In return, he tells you about his nickname 'Bear' and why his restaurant is named as such. For the first time, he dares mention Mickey.

"Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy says, taking a slice of the pie and placing it on your plate.

"I'll see about that," you murmur. You wait until he has a slice of his own and dig in simultaneously.

"It's good, but this is not the best pizza place in Chicago," you say after chewing the first bite, "I'm gonna get your chef license revoked."

"Are you? With what proof? Have you tried all the pizza places to know?"

"I don't have to because I've tried the best," you hum, taking another bite. The cheese stretches as you pull it away.

"Oh yeah? Which one?" Carmy questions you, taking a drink of his beer.

"Mine. The pizza I make is the best," you shrug modestly.

"Wait. You cook?" Carmy asks, giving you a look of surprise.

Cooking is a universal thing. Most people know how to cook up to a degree, yet only some are as confident in their skills as you are. You know you're definitely not up to Carmy's level, but if there is something you know how to do properly, it's pizza.

"Yeah! You're not the only good cook here, Berzatto," you sass back at him, dipping the pizza crust in the marinara sauce.

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

"When will I try this famous pizza of yours then?" Carmy wonders. An attempt to see if you'd like to see more of him.

"I promise I'll make it for you once you open The Bear. You're too stressed to fully enjoy it now," you respond. You were reaching out. Throwing hints that you want this to continue in the foreseeable future.

The conversation continues to flow with an empty pizza box in front of you. Customers come and go until it's only the two of you and a drunk customer picking up his pizza.

"Tell me about your tattoos. Were they an act of rebellion or something else?"

It's an excuse to touch his hands. You reach for them, turning them to see the black ink on his hands and fingers. You gently trace over them with the pads of your fingers. Over the hand that's stabbed, the letters S.O.U. on his knuckles and the forget-me-nots. The one you're dying to touch, though, is the one on his bicep; you'd give anything to feel the hard muscle underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white t-shirt.

"Uh, my first tattoo is the 773. Got it when I left Chicago for the first time. After that, I sort of became addicted to them. I found they helped my anxiety when it was becoming too much. The pain distracted me and made me feel stronger than I actually was," he says, letting you touch him. He finds that he likes it. Your touch is soft and warm. Comforting.

"So what you're trying to say is you're a masochist," you say, bouncing your eyebrows at him. Your touch goes further up his arm to turn it and look at the fish tattoo on his forearm.

"I guess so," Carmy responds with a breathy laugh, "Do you have any tattoos?"

"Maybe…" You shrug as the pads of your fingers trail back down to his palm until you pull them back towards you. Carmy instantly misses the feeling, opting to cross his arms to retain the warmth you left behind.

"It's bad, isn't it?" He says knowingly. Your reaction told him everything he needed to know.

"The worst," you grimace, shaking your head at the memory of you getting it.

"So, rebellion or something else?"

"Rebellion. For all the wrong reasons," you groan, burying your face in your hands, "Growing up, everyone saw me as a good girl because that's what I was. Breaking the rules terrified me. So, as a teenager, I didn't want to be seen as a goody two shoes, so the summer before I went to college, I decided that getting a tattoo would make me a badass."

"Did it work?"

"God, no. I only got the outline done 'cause it hurt like a bitch. Then I went crying to my parents, fully having a meltdown, apologizing for disappointing them," You scrunch your nose as you say the following words, "They laughed in my face, called me a wimp, and told me to suck it up."

Carmy fully laughs at your story. Head thrown back, eyes closing, "What did you get?"

"That's a secret, Berzatto," you purse your lips, avoiding responding. You just know he'll make fun of you for it.

Everyone who has seen your tattoo has made fun of you for it, yourself included. It's so silly and not badass. Carmy will have to wait to see your tattoo, and you hope this continues so he can see it up close.

"Really? That bad?" Carmy stares wide-eyed.

"It's terrible," you nod, leaning on the table. "We should probably get going before the waitress throws a fit."

Carmy looks over his shoulder to see the waitress glaring at them. It's five minutes till close, and they've made no move to go. He turns back to you and nods towards the door. Carmy helps you with your jacket and leaves a tip on the jar for the waitress. At that, she happily calls after them with a 'Good night!'

"Do you live far?" Carmy asks, seeing how dark it is now that most places have closed. There are too many lamp posts that aren't working. He'd feel better if he could walk you home or you called an Uber. Preferably the former.

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

"It's late. Let me walk you home," Carmy says decidedly, not giving you much of a choice.

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

The pace you set is slow. You don't want your time with Carmy to end just yet. He's such an interesting and sweet guy. He's a little awkward, but it adds to his charm, and you can see he's trying.

Somewhere along the way, his hand brushes against yours briefly. Then, it happens again, and you decide to bite the bullet. You grasp his hand in yours.

"Is this okay?" You ask when he falls silent.

Carmy doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He can't even remember the last time he held a girl's hand. All he knows is he doesn't remember ever feeling this good. "Yes, uh, this is okay."

Carmy walks you up to your front door when you reach your house. You unlock the door but stay outside face-to-face with Carmy.

"Thanks for the pizza," you say, fiddling with your fingers. You were about to make one more move for the night. Because as long as Carmy allows you, you'll keep pushing for more.

"Sorry, it wasn't the best," he retorts, rubbing his jaw with his hand. You notice he does that a lot when nervous.

"Your company made up for it," you reassure him, "g'night Carmy." You kiss his cheek goodbye, watching as his cheeks blush.

"Night," he whispers.

As you turn to leave, Carmy stops you by grabbing your wrist, "Wait-uh, can I? Uh-shit. Fuck it." For a second, Carmy shuts out the excessive thoughts in his head and does what he's been dying to do for weeks.

Carmy cups your jaw and kisses you. It's soft and slow. He gives you enough leeway to pull away if it's something you don't want, but you reciprocate eagerly. You've been waiting for this all night.

As confidence surges through his body, Carmy throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around him, one of your hands resting on his neck, tangling on his curls. The tug of your fingers feels like heaven.

The kiss turns needy and desperate, your lips moving perfectly in sync. His tongue brushes over your lip; Carmy has been dying to test a theory. Are you as sweet as your name?

He's rewarded by a little noise in the back of your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's endearing, and he finds a way to make you do it again. With heads tilting to deepen the kiss, he concludes he was right. You're pure honey. Sweet and addicting.

When Carmy returns to his apartment, he gets the urge to create, to cook. He wants to bring your taste to life with his cooking. Something with honey.

"I was wondering if you'd want to come to the restaurant for Family and Friends."

You and Carmy are in your little office at Bee Hive. He stands between your legs as you sit on the desk. His lips are slightly red and swollen, and the hair at the nape of his neck is messier than usual.

"Hm, I could be persuaded," you pretend to think as you play with the golden chain around his neck, pulling him towards you.

"Yeah?" Carmy laughs, leaning to brush his lips against yours. When he feels you nod, he closes the small gap between the two of you.

His hands hold your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. He tastes like coffee, which is to be expected from the discarded cup beside you. It's funny how your relationship, if it could be called that, has moved all around Bee Hive from the register to the front and now to your office.

You're at a weird spot where you're not exactly friends because friends don't kiss, but you're not a couple either. It's a situationship for sure. You're content with what you have now, although you'd also love it if Carmy were to ask you to be more. You pin it on him being shy. He'll get around to it.

"What do you say?" Carmy questions as he kisses a trail from your cheek to your jaw.

"Consider me in," you giggle when he kisses a tickly spot.

Carmy brushes a strand of hair out of your face, remaining close to you. This is what he needs. After months of stress and anxiety of having to deal with The Beef, now The Bear, he needed you and your calming presence. Someone removed from the chaos, a safe haven.

He's quiet as his thoughts consume him, and you take the intimate position to fix his gold chain. Turning it so the clasp faces the back instead of the front. "I'm excited, Carmy," you say with a smile, brushing his cheek with your thumb.

"You can bring someone with you," Carmy offers nervously because he realizes he probably won't have the time to spend much time with you. "I-I don't think I'll be around much. I'm sorry. I'd understand if that makes you change your mind," Carmy drops his head as he braces himself for disappointment.

As the weeks pass, you learn more about Carmy and his insecurities. It doesn't deter you from wanting to be with him. Everyone has their issues. "Berzatto, stop. Look at me," you softly divert his attention, "I'd love to go and support you even if it's from the sidelines."

"You sure?" He asks once more.

If reassurance is what he needs, that's what you'll give. "Don't worry about me. This is your moment, Carmy. Enjoy it. I'll be around afterward."

"Thank you for understanding," Carmy responds, stealing one more kiss from you.

When he returns to The Bear, he helps Sydney prep the dishes they finally chose to serve. He notes how everything is laid out and anything they should fix before opening.

Richie struts into the kitchen with a suit on. Apparently, it's his thing now. Carmy figures staging at Chef Terry's restaurant had a good impact on him. All Carmy wanted was to show Richie he had what it takes. That he's not a fuck up.

"Glad to see things are going well with Honey," Richie thunders.

"What are you talking about?" Carmy says in a rush as he plates the lamb expertly.

"That thing on your neck," Richie says, motioning to his own neck. He has a smug look on his face.

"I don't have time for this, cousin," Carmy grumbles, wiping the plate where the sauce might've splattered.

Groaning, Richie grabs one of the new pans and holds it in front of Carmy. "I don't see anything," he frowns, looking at Richie for an explanation.

"Right here," Richie points towards the edge of his t-shirt around his neck.

Carmy pulls it back and finally spots what Richie has been referring to. There is a fading purple bruise on his skin, a hickey. You must've done it when he was back in your office. He'd been too busy touching you to notice.

Sydney, silently watching, pipes up, "No wonder he hasn't been as on edge lately." Carmy shoots her a glare, which causes her to shrug and laugh with a, "What? It's true."

"Ay, yo, Sugar, get in here!" Richie yells down the hall to the office.

"What is it?" Natalie barges in, afraid something went to shit.

Carmy ignores Richie as he babbles to Natalie what he found. His face is red, though, as Sydney nudges his side.

"That's enough about me. We have shit to do," Carmy shouts in his chef's voice.

Everyone in the kitchen, including Richie and Natalie, repeats, "Yes, chef!"

Walking out of the kitchen Richie, 'whispers' to Natalie, "I've always wondered if he likes to be called chef in bed."

"Fuck off, Richie," Natalie glares, but then it falls, and it's replaced with a teasing grin, "He definitely does."

"I heard that! Don't you two have better things to do?" Carmy screams at them.

"Yes, chef!"

Carmy keeps hearing Cicero's 'Uh-oh' throughout the whole day. He understands Cicero, he really does, but to call you a distraction?

His work with The Bear is only starting. They managed to make it to Friends and Family. Now, they have to keep up their best work to fill up the restaurant daily and have a waiting list. His work is far from done. He should listen to Cicero.

Cicero said it with the best of intentions. He doesn't want the Berzatto siblings to fail. He wants to believe they'll succeed and, most importantly, get him his money.

If there is something Cicero has learned throughout the years, it is that girls are distractions. They mean well, but oftentimes, they keep your eyes off the ball. Especially when it's a new relationship like Carmy's. Ultimately, it's up to Carmy to decide what he wants to do. Cicero has played his part by giving him his advice.

One last delivery is made to the restaurant an hour before opening. Richie is the one to receive it and place it in front of Carmy. "She's a keeper, Cousin," he says with a pointed look and a nod. He also wants the best for Carmy, and yet it doesn't align with Cicero.

You knew Carmy would be too stressed and all over the place to eat or drink, so you sent everyone at The Bear a drink and a pastry. One of the cups has Carmen's name with a little heart and 'good luck' written on it.

"Yeah, she is," Carmy sighs, turning the cup in his hands to look at the message. His thumb brushes over your handwriting longingly. Is listening to Cicero the wise thing to do? He's one of the most successful men he knows in his family.

When it's 10 minutes till open, Carmy changes into his uniform and looks in the mirror. His heart is racing, begging for Friends and Family not to be a complete failure. Walking out of the bathroom, Carmy is a man on a mission.

It starts relatively well, but like everything in Carmy's life, the kitchen starts welcoming in the chaos.

They are too slow getting the orders out, which causes Sydney to start doubting herself and asking Carmy to step in. He reassures her she's doing good. They just have to keep up the pace.

Then, one of the new chefs disappears mid-rush. Forcing Tina to work two stations and Marcus to step out of his to help Sydney. Carmy ignores some weird tension between them as he works on ensuring the dishes are good to go.

Next thing he knows, Sugar is rushing into the kitchen, yelling at him about forks. It's wasted time, as he can't do anything about it. A shrill reverberates inside his head as he looks at the ticking clock. It's enough to give him a headache.

With no one to take a dish to its table, Carmy takes it upon himself to do it. There's no time to re-fire or wait for someone. He places it on their table and pours the tea into their cups before retreating with an 'enjoy.'

He looks at his restaurant, and suddenly, the ringing in his head gets louder. Sitting in a booth is his old boss, staring back at him like he did back in New York. Like he was waiting for Carmy to fail.

His voice echoes in Carmy's head. Why are you so fuckin' slow. Hurry up. Go faster motherfucker. Talentless piece of shit.

Right before Carmy spirals, it all goes away. His focus shifts entirely as he sees you taking your seat for the night. The one he chose because he'd be able to see you from the kitchen. You have successfully blocked the mirage he'd conjured up.

You're there with your brother as Richie talks you up, thanking you for coming. As if sensing him, your eyes lock with Carmys. Shyly, you send him a wave, which he returns, thanking you in his head for getting there at the perfect time.

Carmy ducks back to the kitchen with newfound energy. Richie enters shortly after him.

"Chef, your girl is here."

"Thanks, Chef, um, do you have the notepad?" Carmy asks as he continues cleaning dishes and making sure each one is up to par.

"Here you go."

Taking the notepad from Richie, he begins scribbling. I love- No, too fuckin' soon. Thank you for- Nope, it's too stale.

I'm happy you're here, Honey. Wait for me after you're done? -Bear

"Here," Carmy hands it to him without even looking at Richie.

"Keep up the good work, Chefs," Richie yells out to the room before disappearing to the front of the house. The door swinging shut behind him.

"Yes, Chef!"

Something isn't working in the kitchen. They're too backed up, and no matter how hard they try, they're always a tad too slow. Through Sydney surrounding the wheel to Richie, Carmy steals glances out the kitchen window. You're smiling at whatever your brother says, your lips sipping the wine he chose. Carmy can get through this night because, in the end, you'll be waiting for him.

"There he is," you sing as you spot Carmy walking out of the kitchen. The chef's whites back in his locker as he sports his white t-shirt, jeans, and jacket.

Fak, who kept you company while Carmy finished up, speaks up next, "My brother, I'm gonna grab a sandwich and head home. Honey, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too, Neil!"

"Thanks for everything," Carmy tells him, giving him a hug and a pat like dudes do.

Carmy turns and grabs your hand to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "What did you think?"

"It was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," you tell him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

There's a reason Carmy has had so many accolades despite his young age. He has a gift in the kitchen. The moment his food touched your taste buds, your life changed. He and Sydney outdid themselves, and the way everything flowed showed how much work they put into the restaurant.

"You're exaggerating," Carmy modestly says, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"I'm really not," you shake your head, pursing your lips. Carmy can't resist placing a small peck on your red-painted lips.

"What about your famous pizza?"

"No, it might be the best pizza in Chicago, but whatever I ate today topped it," you smile at him, scrunching your nose. "Consider your chef's license reinstated,"

"Thanks," Carmy laughs breathily, "Do you mind if we walk? I feel some of the rush still."

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the streets of Chicago. It's silent momentarily as the wind cools Carmy's heated face. He places his hand along with yours into his pocket.

"Did your brother like it?" He asks, breaking the ice.

"Oh yeah. I'm officially like the best sister ever," you respond, squeezing his hand.

You had accidentally forgotten that your brother had passed the Bar exam. So, you didn't have time to get him anything in celebration. You figured dinner at a lovely new restaurant would help while you got him a proper present.

"How did you feel throughout, though? It looked intense." You often found yourself looking through the small glass window into the kitchen. They were always on the move, looking for the next thing to do.

"It didn't just look like it. I'm used to it, though," Carmy admits with a sniff. Everyone's best and worst habits shone through for those couple of hours. It's an environment he's all too familiar with, in and out of the kitchen.

"That rough," you grimace.

"It's fine. We have a lot to work on, but it's a start, and it wasn't entirely terrible," Carmy says, thinking back on tonight. Before coming out to meet you, he wrote down a couple of things to go through with Sugar and Sydney.

"Good, 'cause I hope The Bear sticks around the block," you say, bumping your shoulder with his.

You invite Carmy into your house when you arrive. He takes up your offer, holding your hand to help you balance as you take your heels off. It reminds Carmy he forgot to mention how beautiful you looked today.

He follows you to the kitchen, watching your hips sway and your dress skirt swishing. Padding to the wine fridge, you pick out a bottle of red to celebrate.

Carmy indulges in looking at your legs as you stretch up to reach for the glasses of wine up in your cabinets. His blue eyes darken as your dress hikes up, exposing your pretty thighs.

His gaze darts back up at you when you turn around to place the glasses on the kitchen counter. You hand him the wine opener so he can do the honors because you suck at taking the cork out. It's why you mainly stick to cheaper wines with twist-off caps.

"Here is to The Bear and its amazing owner," you say, lifting your glass in front of you.

"Here's to not fuckin' it up entirely," Carmy follows, making you giggle. Your wine glasses clink, and you take a drink.

Placing the glass back down, Carmy pins you against the counter, his strong hands resting on the edge of it. You look at him through your lashes, a hand coming up to his chest to feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"You look beautiful. I like the dress," Carmy murmurs. It's better late than never.

The dress you wear is a pretty shade of light blue. Simple yet dressy. The neckline gives him a good view of your cleavage and has long sleeves to compensate for the shorter length. They currently cover the goosebumps lining your skin.

"Yeah? I picked it out thinking you might," you reveal, biting your lip. The shade reminded you of his eyes.

"You were right," he whispers, cupping your jaw. As pretty as the dress is, he's sure it'll look so much better on the floor.

Carmy closes his eyes as he leans down to kiss you. He's always struggled with words, so he hopes it's enough for you to catch what he's trying to say.

You smile into the kiss, blindly leaving your glass to the side to be able to touch him. Your palm presses against his chest and taut abdomen. He hides a nice amount of muscle under his t-shirts, a pleasant surprise.

Carmy easily lifts you up to sit down on the kitchen island. He steps between your legs, never breaking the heated kiss. The hands on your waist trail down to your thighs and under your dress. Carmy's tattooed hands squeeze your ass and thighs, earning him a moan from you.

This is the farthest you've ever gotten, and you're more than ready to have all of him. Carmy knows this, which leads to his thoughts getting out of control.

He has to make a decision now. Does he allow himself to be with you, or does he remain by himself like always? Richie's, Sugar's, Cicero's, and Sydney's voices all shout at him different things. Some are in favor, and others are in opposition. 'Uh oh.'

He can't lead you on and sleep with you if he will back out tomorrow. The voices become deafening in an instant, ripping him away from your embrace. His emotions bubbled over and spilled all over the place.

"Wait, stop, I just-" Carmy breathes heavily, taking a couple of steps back from you. Carmy's hand comes up to his forehead as he attempts to organize his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" You ask worriedly. Did you do something wrong?

Carmen's thoughts spill out his mouth without making much sense as he paces in your kitchen. "I can't stop thinking about it and owe it to my team..."

"Carm?" You slide off the kitchen counter, approaching him slowly.

"-keeps saying it's a distraction," he rambles mostly to himself. His heart is pounding painfully in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was having a heart attack.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's a distraction?" Softly, you grab onto his arms, stopping him in his tracks, trying to find his lost gaze.

"You. Whatever this is," Carmy breathes, finally meeting your eyes, which he instantly regrets as your eyes turn sad.

The watering of your eyes is unintentional, as is the knot forming in your throat. "You think I'm distracting you?" You question barely above a whisper.

His response is instant, "Fuck, no, the opposite. W-When I'm with you or-or think about you, things get clearer, and it's-it's when I feel the most focused." Carmy holds your shoulders, comforting you because he never meant to hurt you. He can't stand the sad look in your eyes.

Slowly, you begin to piece together his rambling and conclude that other people have been telling him you're a distraction. You wonder if they don't want him to be happy. The Bear is the center of Carmy's life, and before that, it was the restaurant in New York. He deserves more than this crazy job.

"Then fuck what others tell you, Carmen. You deserve to have a life outside The Bear." Maybe you're selfish because you don't want to lose him, but you hope he believes your words.

"I-I don't. I don't deserve all your attention or your affection. I'm nothing special. I don't deserve you." Carmy says, shaking his head with furrowed brows.

Weeks ago, he had no source of enjoyment. He said it himself at the support group. Now, he has you, yet he can't bear the thought of you wanting to be with him. He feels like he's tricking you into a bad deal. That's what he is, though, isn't he? An overachieving fuck up with tons upon tons of baggage.

Carmen Berzatto is an anxious person with too many problems in his life. He has a fucked up family. His mother is a mentally unstable alcoholic. His brother was addicted to painkillers and decided that shooting himself on a bridge was better than living this life. That's without mentioning all the trauma he has from his job and the terrible people he's worked with.

What good does he have to offer you?

"Yes, you do," you reassure him, placing your hands on his cheeks. The cool metal of your rings soothes him somewhat, grounding him. "You deserve all that and more, Carmy. You're so sweet and kind and hard-working. You've been through shit. You deserve something good in life. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's not, but don't close yourself off."

You're begging at this point. Whatever this relationship is, it's just starting. He's not giving himself a chance. You like Carmy so damn much. He's funny without knowing it and thoughtful, too. There are so many qualities he doesn't realize he has.

His eyes watch you as tears line them. He's silently pleading for you to convince him. To get him out of his own head and forget the expectations others have on him.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Carm. It's your call, but I've enjoyed our last couple of months together. I know we don't know each other completely, but I want to know everything about you. I have feelings for you, so whatever you decide, I'll support it."

Being honest is all you can do at this point. You pour your heart out and hope Carmy chooses you.

You and Carmy stand in the middle of your kitchen. Face to face, reaching out towards each other. It's clear as day that you want the same thing. It's only a matter of taking the right steps now.

"I can't let you go," Carmy responds, grabbing the hand on his cheek. His thumb brushes over the back of it.

"Then don't."

Carmy's decision is made. Without another thought, he smashes his lips against yours. He grabs the back of your neck, tilting your head to meet his heated kiss.

It's more intense now that the cards are on the table. Nothing to hold him back.

Tongues clash together as your bodies seek each other out. The temperature rises when Carmy lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands are on the back of your thighs, holding tight onto you.

"Bedroom?" He asks, breaking the kiss, a trail of saliva between the two of you.

"Down the hallway," you breathe heavily, kissing down his neck.

Carmy makes it to the bedroom, opening the door with a bang. He spots your bed, placing you in the middle with him holding himself up on top of you.

He watches as your back meets the bed and your fair fans around you like a halo. The curvature of your breasts accentuated even more from the position.

Carmy hikes your leg further up his hips as he dips down to kiss a wet trail down to the neckline of your dress. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on the rounded flesh, nipping at the skin playfully when you arch your back to push more into him.

"Carmy," you breathe, cupping his jaw to pull him back to your lips. Grinding your hips, you manage to graze against his bulge.

"Shit," Carmy shakily curses, thrusting his hips to meet your touch once more.

Curiously, your hands wander across his body. Carmy's moans in your ear make your panties wetter than they already are.

You grasp the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off. You're desperate to have him, your cunt aches for him. Your nails scratch down his firm stomach when he bites into your earlobe, softly calling your name.

"Unzip me," you pant, pushing him away and pulling your hair off to the side.

Carmy grabs the small zipper, pushing it down and exposing your pretty skin. As he slides the fabric off of you, he kisses your shoulders and back, taking note of the goosebumps on your skin.

His mind is in the present, and nothing can take it away from him. It's like a switch he managed to turn off in his brain. No more family drama, no more The Bear. It's just you...and him. Honey and Bear.

You stretch your neck to the side, giving Carmy more space to pepper kisses across the delicate skin. The dress pooling at your feet exposes your chest, and Carmy's hands come up from behind you. His fingers shyly brush up your stomach, tickling you, until they find your breasts.

He draws a moan from you as he squeezes them in his palms, pushing you back to meet his chest; turning your head to the side, you find his lips.

The kiss breaks when he slides one of his hands into your underwear, dipping his finger to feel your wetness. Your arm reaches back to dig your fist in his curls.

"You're soaked, Honey," he moans, finding your clit to tease it.

"Been waiting for so long, Carmy," you whine as your hips stutter along with the flicks of his wrist.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now," he purrs into your ear.

Carmy can hear the distinct 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of his fingers against your clit. It spurs him on as he slips a finger into you. He can't wait to have his cock inside of you, snug and warm.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you gasp when he prods another finger into your entrance. Hanging onto his arm across your chest, you roll your hips against his fingers.

"I got you," he says, digging his fingers deeper into you and curling them.

Your knees buckle as the tips of his fingers curl and hit your g spot repeatedly. If it weren't for him, you'd be on the floor. With your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure, you stutter out, "I'm gonna cum."

Carmy's hand is wet from your juices as he ups the ante. Just as your walls begin to squeeze around his fingers, he pulls them out to circle around your clit.

"Oh, f-fuck!" You squeal, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

The way your clit softly twitches under the pads of his fingers fucks with Carmy. It makes his cock throb and leak into his jeans.

Untangling from his embrace, you place a breathless kiss on Carmy's lips. His slick digits dig into your hips as he prolongs it.

Blindly, you find the edge of his jeans and unbutton them. If Carmy notices, he doesn't say anything. You want to give him one more reason to stay with you.

He moans into your mouth when you grasp his length through his boxers. He's rock hard as he desperately ruts against your hand.

With your hold still on him, you push him to sit on the bed. Carmy looks up at you lustfully. You plant a single short kiss on his lips before kneeling on the floor between his legs. You leave love bites down his chest while looking up at him through your lashes.

Carmy brushes away any hair that falls on your face, his blue eyes focused solely on you. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pull them down along with his underwear.

His length pops up from its confines, slapping against his tummy. Its tip is a pretty pink shade, with a thick length and a slight curve to it. You salivate instantly at the sight of it.

Carmy's nervous under you. It's been a long since he's been with someone else, and he's never been the most confident.

"Relax," you say teasingly, kissing around his lower tummy to calm him.

Finally, your hand wraps around his cock, lightly pumping it. Leaving sloppy kisses down his happy trail, you feel Carmy's stomach taut in anticipation.

It's been so fuckin' long.

With your eyes staring into his hungry ones, you kiss the pink head that glistens with pre, teasingly brushing it against your lips. Keeping eye contact, you lick his length from base to tip. You alternate between kissing and licking for a minute, enjoying watching Carmy squirm.

"Fuck, Honey," Carmy throws his head back at your torturous pace.

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

Taking mercy on him, you part your lips to take his length into your warm, wet mouth, bobbing your head to a steady rhythm. Prying one of Carmy's hands from the bedsheets, you place it in your hair, encouraging him to use you.

"Good girl," he moans, fisting your hair to force you to take more of his cock. You let your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the strong muscles underneath.

Carmen observes you with hooded eyes as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him expertly. He's obsessed with how your lips leave behind a tinge of red lipstick on his skin.

"Shit-Fuck me," he yells into the room when you swallow around him.

You want him to cum, but Carmy has other plans. He doesn't think he'll last long if you make him cum now, so after the stunt you pulled, he pulls you off his sensitive cock.

The sight in front of him is erotic as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. The tears lining your eyes and blushed nose add to that pretty picture.

"c'me 'ere," he says, helping you up and kissing you as he leads you back to the bed. He tugs off your wet panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

You lay back on your pillows with Carmy slotted between your legs. It's torture having him so close and yet so far. Now that you've gotten a taste of his cock you need more.

Carmy touches the inside of your thighs, inching his way closer to your cunt. He instantly notices how fuckin' wet you are. You're dripping even more than before.

"Sucking me off, got you this wet, princess?" He asks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Mhm, Carmy, wish you would've cum in my mouth," you admit, tilting your head up to brush your lips against his.

"You have such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he chuckles darkly.

Where did this side of you come from? You're usually so sweet and delicate. He should've known you would be a freak in bed. To think he almost let this all go.

"Carmen, please."

"Please, what?" Carmen teases, lining his cock against your opening, wetting his cock.

"Fuck me," you moan, kissing his jaw.

"'m gonna fuck you good, princess," he promises, with a shaky nod before he remembers, "Fuck! I-I don't have a condom with me."

"I should have some in my drawer," you mention breathlessly.

Carmy opens the condom in record time but is surprised when you take it from his hands and roll it down his shaft yourself. You just want an excuse to keep touching him.

With your leg hiked up, he aligns himself and slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the sensation. Carmy, for one, is trying to not bust a nut so soon because you're so tight and warm.

Meanwhile, you hold onto Carmy's back as he stretches you out. It's been so long, and your toys aren't nearly as thick as him. You breathily moan in his ear, which he takes as a good sign as he begins thrusting more forcefully and deeper.

Carmy hopes this isn't a dream, and if it is, he hopes he doesn't wake up anytime soon. He has one hand holding onto your thigh and the other holding himself up. His gold chain dangles above you as he picks his head up from its spot on your shoulder. You take the chance to tug on it, returning his attention to your lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good, princess," Carmy groans, squeezing your thigh.

"I love your cock, Carmy," you whine, feeling the drag of his cock on your walls. The pleasure is all-consuming, leaving a fuzzy feeling in your brain.

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

His hips snap hard against yours, hitting that spot each and every time. His pelvis hitting your clit. He squeezes your thigh, hips, and sides before his hand squeezes your tits, too, playing with your nipples.

Suddenly, he straightens up, pulling you down the bed to have you flushed against his pelvis. He's a sight for sore eyes that forces you to keep your eyes open.

His thrusts are more forceful like this, where he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you towards him with each snap. It makes your tits bounce, hypnotizing him.

Through your lustful gaze, he looks like a marble statue. His chest glimmers under the lowlights of your room as sweat clings to him, his chain jumping against the blushed skin of his chest, and his fucking hair falling over his pretty eyes. The set of his jaw could've been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Your hands indulgently reach down to touch him in any way you can. You can only reach his stomach, where a nice pair of abs appear due to the effort.

"You like what you see?" Carmy teases. He's entirely lost on you because otherwise, he wouldn't be as cocky to say that.

"You're so handsome," you pitifully say. Your brain not computing as it should, but how can it when it's being fucked out of you?

Carmy doesn't know how to respond. It's not often he's called handsome or looked at as lustfully as you're looking at him. Thankfully, he doesn't need to say much as your eyes roll back and you squeeze your walls around him.

"Carmy, I'm so close," you pant, trying to find any part of him to hold. He offers you his hand, lacing your fingers together.

"Just a little longer, princess," Carmy groans as you clench around him. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

He glances down at the spot where you and him meet to see a ring of white on the base of his cock. He's enthralled with the way you stretch to accommodate him and the way your pink walls drag along his length when he pulls out. Fuckin' beautiful.

Putting all his knowledge to use, he thumbs your clit, making you jolt. He needs you to cum now, or he won't make it. His balls feel like they're about to burst.

"Carmy," you cry out, tightening the hold on his hand.

You teeter on the edge for only a second until you cum, waves of pleasure washing over you. Carmy curses from above you as your tightening walls choke his cock, making him cum too. He stutters his hips a couple more times, riding out his orgasm.

He leans back down again, catching your lips in a small kiss. His body slowly relaxes against yours as his head rests on your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and perfume.

"That was good," you breathe heavily, rubbing your hands up and down your back. You're just starting to think clearly.

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

There's a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.

A bubble encases you, and it can't be popped as long as you stay in your bedroom. Carmy doesn't want to leave; it's late already, and in a couple of hours, he has to get up and go to The Bear to repeat the process.

For once, he forgets about that and focuses solely on you. He has a couple of hours to spare. Sleep is overrated.

You face each other on the bed, talking in hushed whispers. Your fingers trace the '773' tattoo on his bicep like you've always wanted to do. It tickles Carmy, so he grabs your hand and kisses your palm.

"Now that I'm thinking about it. I didn't see your tattoo," he whispers to prevent disturbing the peace.

Your face warms at his words. You had forgotten about that. He's seen a lot of you in the past couple of hours. What's a bit more of skin?

"You missed my big bad tattoo?" you joke, poking his nose.

"Show me," he says with a lopsided smile.

You make it dramatic, rolling your eyes and giving him a big sigh. Sitting up on the bed, you peel the bed sheets from your body. Carmy props himself up on his elbow in anticipation.

Right there, on your left side and under the curve of your breast is a small outline of Winnie the Pooh's face. Carmy touches it, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. Unsurprisingly, it's precisely what he expected from you.

A few chuckles pass his lips as he pulls you back into his arms.

"Don't laugh. It made sense at the time," you whine, covering yourself back up.

Carmy pulls you to his chest, kissing your temple, "I'm sure it does. Pooh Bear loves his Honey," Just like he does.

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

And he does because Carmy, aka The Bear, is quickly falling for his Honey.

A couple of days later, Carmy is back at your house helping you prepare the famous pizza you promised him. He lets you take the lead on everything, preferring to follow your instructions rather than let his mind run wild. It's not like you'll let him do most of the work anyway; it's your recipe, and you're protective over it.

"Can you chop up the veggies?" You ask him as you lay down the dough in a pan.

"Yes, Chef," he nods, kissing your cheek as he digs through your kitchen drawers for a knife.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," you muse, shaking your shoulders as you knead the dough to spread it.

"Don't let it get to your head, Hun," Carmy smiles, slicing the vegetables expertly.

Cooking with Carmy is surprisingly easier than you thought. He's not controlling over the kitchen or judgy. He lets you do your thing in peace, following your orders no matter how strange they might be. This is your kitchen, not his.

As you spread the sauce and cheese over one of the doughs, Carmy gets a call. He wipes his hands with a rag and picks it up. You only hear his side of the conversation.

"No, I'm off tonight. I'm with my girl. Call Sugar. She should be able to help you with that. Great. Thanks."

Carmy had promised himself that he would try to balance it all better. He has his team to help each other out. The Bear is a priority, but so are you because you help him keep whatever sanity he has left.

Carmy hangs up, and when he returns to you, he notices the grin on your lips as you put the toppings he chopped on the pizza.

"What's with the smile?" Carmy stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he props his head on your shoulder. Your hair tickles his nose, smelling the notes of coconut of your shampoo he digs his head farther into it.

"I'm your girl?" You ask, the smile still present on your face. He'd missed your initial reaction when you heard him call you 'my girl.' You almost dropped the container of pepperoni that was in your hands. It's a shock cause he never asked you to be his girl.

Carmy pauses and tenses up against you. "Uh, yes? Hold up. Turn around," he orders, as he places his hand on your hips to turn your body around.

"Yes, chef," you respond cheekily, your arms around his neck, careful not to touch his sweater with your messy hands.

"Aren't you my girl?" He frowns, rubbing a thumb over your hips.

"I could be, but I don't remember you asking," you pretend to think.

Carmy never directly asked you to be his girlfriend, and you never asked him to be your boyfriend. You might as well be a couple since you've been dating long enough. You decide to seize the opportunity now to get it out of him. Having a proper anniversary day would be nice because you hope this lasts.

"I see, my mistake," Carmy nods, catching your vibe, "Honey…"

"Yes, Carmy?" You blink innocently at him.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" He finally asks.

You could joke around but decided against it cause the moment is perfect, "I'd love to," you nod, giving him a small kiss.

When the pizza is cooked, you bring it over to the dining table. Serving Carmy a pretty slice. Excitedly, you wait for him to bite into it and taste it.

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

"You were right. Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy agrees with an unbelievable laugh. He's got a lot to learn from you. It's the truth, or maybe he's blinded by his feelings. Only time will tell where you and Carmy will end up.

The End?

thank you guys for pulling through and reading! i know it's a slow burn but i hope you liked it! i certainly enjoyed writing it even though it took me like 4 months.

if you liked it, i would appreciate you liking it, commenting or reblogging. if you have some feedback feel free to send it my way too. i wanna get better at this whole writing thing!

thank you! bye xx

[ilydeku]

teacher izuku has a girlfriend??

Regardless of the joy and spur he expelled towards the students, Izuku knew how to maintain the steady hand of keeping the class under set composure. Nothing but the intent to teach and the will to learn, an equitable relationship between the two—and it was no question. Being the most loved and favored teacher had its perks, and grandiose respect was one of them.

But no matter how mature a student has grown, having fun will always reign somewhere along their focal point. Even if that fun means encouraging their teacher in his love life.

"...-because a good relationship between your teammates makes for optimal communication, conduct, and cooperation," explained Izuku, pointing from one spot on the board to another, well immersed in his lesson. "Now, considering quirk-"

"Speaking of relationships, are you in a relationship, sir?" A student, a frivolous girl, teasingly pipes in sudden interest. Plenty of students amongst the grade claimed a crush on Deku-sensei. Of course they did: he's sweet, very tentative and understanding to all his students individually, and takes his time to really help and engrave the knowledge he possessed for them to become the best future heroes they could be. That, and mostly his physical charms. So wouldn't it be in his best interest to have a girlfriend?

Little did Izuku know that this inquiry marked the beginning of his first uncontrollable havoc.

For a moment, he hesitated, pausing midway on the convoluted diagrams drawn on the whiteboard. A strange question, but he thought nothing much of it. He turned around and crossed his arms, lazily pointing the expo marker to the girl.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Unrelevant, didn't see a hand raised-"

"Aw, but sir!" She draws out, slumping back in her seat. "Are you?"

Some students began to look at each other and exchange a few grins until the room began to slowly increase in volume and erupt into unintelligible chatter.

"Ahem."

The room fell into silence accordingly, but he could clearly read the expression on everyone's faces. The class was still waiting for his answer, the way they stared and leaned over their desks in anticipation. Izuku sighs and turns back to the board.

"...no, I'm not in a relationship. Moving on, the information I've drawn-"

"Really?" The girl cuts in matter of factly with a tilt of her head. "But aren't you and y/n talking??"

A chorus of engrossed 'oohs' echoed across the room and a very subtle, but defined shade of pink dusted his cheeks at the mention of you. He turned around again and attempted to regain composure of the class.

"Everyone settle down-"

"Y/n L/n? Isn't that (hero name)?? I think she's in the top 20's now."

"Yeah! I've seen her drop by the school a couple times during lunch!"

"Now that I think about it, Deku-sensei does have her come in as a guest speaker a lot..."

It was just one after another, the addition of suspicions and theories now bringing the truth to the surface. Izuku swallowed.

A loose black band around Izuku's wrist caught another student's eye and they stood up and pointed in excitement. "Look!! Deku-sensei has hair ties on his wrist!! Hair ties!!"

"Kids, please...-"

"Wow..I've never seen your class this rowdy before, Izuku!!" That voice. His head snapped toward you in surprised, totally flustered about the situation. The entire class went dead silent and turned to you, standing at the entrance of the classroom. You wave at his kids with a smile and stroll over to Izuku's desk, dropping off a bag of some sort. He watches you endearingly.

"You forgot your lunch at home, silly."

"O-Oh did I? Haha, sorry y/n. Thank you. You're on break right now, right?"

The students watched you both like a show, taking in the interaction, the body language, the words. There's no doubt you two were a thing right? Deku-sensei and (hero name)!!

And just then, you confirmed it with simple kiss on his cheek.

"Bye, Izuku! Be nice to the kids, hm?"

"You know I always am!!"

As soon as the classroom door clicked, the class burst into awe.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US???"

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day fifteen.

Good Girl + Wearing His Clothes During Sex (2k words)

summary: The last thing you needed was your boyfriend distracting you from all the work you needed to get done, but he knew just the way to get your attention.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, oral (f receiving), praise, dom!lando, unprotected sex.

The big hotel room felt overwhelming as you sat on the desk with your laptop in front of you. This is what you had to put up with for travelling around the world to support your boyfriend. You wouldn’t say it wasn’t worth it, but it was the time difference that was really killing you. 

You hoped to have enough time to enjoy Brazil and its beautiful activities, but sadly, this wasn’t the case, since you now found yourself feeling stressed, with a million things to do, and wearing one of Lando’s shirts that rested just above your thigh to put up with the hot weather.

Lando was laying on the bed, staring at you as you typed away; he was growing a little desperate. You promised you would be done in time for lunch, or at least to spend some time together, but it wasn’t looking like that would happen for who knows how long.

“How is it going?”

“Uh- not great,” he sighed as you said this. There were many reasons he brought you with him, and watching you work was not one of them. “I’ll be over soon, I promise.”

“How long?”

“Baby, I’ll be done in time for lunch, okay?” You said again, looking at him momentarily.

He looked at the time, assuming he wouldn’t have to wait too much since it was almost lunchtime. He decided to stop bothering you and just let you do your thing, knowing that if he distracted you, you’d take longer, and he just needed you to himself as soon as possible. 

An hour went by, and it didn’t look like you would be done any time soon; he hated to admit it, but he was almost at his limit. He realised it wasn’t fair to feel that way, but he honestly couldn’t help it. He decided to give you 15 more minutes, mentally setting a timer to drag you away from your computer, and when the time was done, that’s exactly what he did, or at least that was his intention. 

“Okay, time for lunch. What do you feel like eating?” He said it in a tone that felt like he wasn’t giving you an option to reject him. 

“Just 30 more minutes, baby, I promise.”

“What? That’s what you said almost two hours ago.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I just need to send this one thing and I’m all yours.” You looked at him with a soft smile, hoping he would understand.

Instead, he grunted in annoyance. “Baby, please. Is that office falling apart without you?”

“It is, by the looks of it.”

“Come on. Let’s have lunch and then you can come back to work. I’m starving.”

“Lando,” you stared at him more seriously now, feeling like a mother telling their kid away, going back to your laptop after a few seconds.

Were you being serious? He thought as he stood there, still looking at you and waiting for you to give him some attention. But you didn’t, so he would have to come up with a better plan. 

He stood behind the desk chair, wrapping his arms around you as he planted soft kisses on your jaw. This made you melt instantly, but that feeling quickly went away when a notification popped on your screen. With that, your attention went back to the screen.

But he wouldn’t give up so easily. His mouth travelled further down, paying special attention to your neck.

“Not now, Lando. I’m quite busy.”

He turned the chair around, so now you were facing him. “You need to take a break, my love, you can’t keep going like this.”

“I’m almost done-”

“That’s what you have been saying, not only today but literally every day.” He was giving you his best puppy eyes, hoping that would make you break. 

“I know… no, don’t give me that look.”

“Please, one hour is all I’m asking for. We’ll order room service so we don’t even have to leave the room. Is a win-win.”

He kneeled in front of you, his hands landing on your thighs as he started kissing your exposed skin. You were considering it; in one hand, stopping for an hour wouldn’t hurt anybody, but then again, if you stopped, that means you would eventually have to come back and finish later.

That internal battle was soon forgotten when you felt one of his hands creeping up between your legs, quickly finding your clothed core. You let out an involuntary moan, closing your eyes as you enjoyed his touch.

“See? You need to relax,” he whispered, his kisses becoming wetter the closer he got to the inside of your thighs. “Lift your hips for me.” Lando hooked his fingers in the hem of your panties, sliding them down your body and throwing them somewhere behind him. With all the patience in the world, he used one of his fingers to play with your clit, circling it softly as he looked up at you, a smirk forming on his face when he saw how much you were enjoying it.

“Want me to keep going?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, swallowing hard as your small hand fell on his hair.

He decided to cut out the teasing now that he could see how desperate you were getting, burying himself completely between your legs and planting a kiss directly on your clit. The moan you let out was glorious, and it only encouraged him to keep going. He then started to properly eat you out, licking and sucking just the way you liked it. He directed his tongue to your dripping hole, collecting all your arousal and then licking up your slit, bringing it to your sensitive clit.

“Shit, so good,” you moaned, and you could feel him smiling at the effect he had on you.

God, his tongue was really doing wonders. Repeatedly, he was lapping at your clit and then gently sucking on it for a longer period of time, which he knew was what you enjoyed the most, teasing it with the tip of his tongue from time to time. A few minutes went by as he repeated this process, adding a finger inside you when he felt you clench around nothing.

The added pleasure made you arch your back and push his head closer to you, although that was impossible. You couldn’t help it; you could feel your orgasm so close yet so far. It was probably the stress; Lando was right, you were overworking yourself day after day, and this was probably just what you needed.

Another thick finger was added as he picked up the pace, and you began to feel the familiar tightening of your orgasm approach.

“Lando- fuck.” Your eyes were squeezed shut as your legs that rested on his shoulder began to shake, gasps and pants escaping your lips as you started to see stars, your orgasm hitting you shortly after. 

You could hear him moan faintly, the vibrations prolonging your climax as your tiny clit pulsed against his tongue. Your entire body was combulsing so much that you were sure that if Lando wasn’t holding you with one of his strong arms, the chair wouldn’t be standing anymore.

When it became too much, you pushed his head away, breathing heavily as you came down from your high. But he was starting to get needy himself. He shifted on his feet and carried you in his arms, immediately kissing you, and you could taste yourself in his mouth. 

He walked towards the bed and softly placed you down, stepping away for a moment to undress himself. You admired his muscles flexing as he pulled his shirt over his head, his eyes never leaving your body. His intense gaze made you feel exposed, reaching down and trying to shove the shirt over your bare bottom half while he stood over you. 

God, he really had you in the palm of his hand, because the way he chucked had you pathetically leaking down your thighs and onto the bed. 

“Can’t get shy now, sweetheart, I’ve seen all of it,” he reminded you, making your cheeks go red as you recalled the events that took place in the chair across the room just minutes ago. 

You timidly nodded, paying attention to how his hands moved to undo his belt and pull his pants down, along with his underwear. His smirk grew darker as you pressed your thighs together; the way he affected you never went unnoticed, and he always yearned to give you more.

Once he was finally done, he hovered over you, his lips immediately finding yours. You involuntarily moaned against him, wrapping your legs around him to bring him closer. In a swift movement, he rolled you over so you would be on top, dragging your hips lower to get you to sit on his desperate cock. 

Your hips started slowly moving, relieving some of the neediness he was feeling; his moans joined yours, and as you got more into it, your hands reached for the hem of the shirt you were still wearing.

“No, keep that on for me, yeah?” He stopped you, pulling it back down. You nodded and placed your hands on his chest instead, nails digging at his skin.

“Mhm, need you,” you moaned, lifting your hips and guiding his cock to your entrance. That action sent a throb through his already aching abdomen, an incredibly deep moan coming from him as you sat back down. 

“Fuck, so perfect for me.” He whimpered, his hands finding your waist to guide your movements. This made his shirt roll up, uncovering your pussy and part of your tummy; he could practically see himself inside you as you bounced on his cock.

You had your lip trapped between your teeth as your hands were now placed on top of his, your eyes shut as you arched your back, allowing him to have a better view of how his huge cock disappeared inside you. He could watch you ride him forever; you were always so good for him.

“Good girl.” You let out a loud moan at his words and clenched his pulsing dick inside you, making you open your eyes and look down at him — a look somewhere between surprised and embarrassed meeting his eyes.

Lando didn’t share your feelings of embarrassment at all; in fact, he was going insane at the reaction two simple words got out of you. Oh, he was going to use that to his advantage.

“Like it when I call you a good girl?” Fuck, another loud moan. “Yeah, are you being a good girl for me?”

“Ah, yes,” you breathed out, your pace picking up at every word he uttered. 

“Keep going, baby, you are doing so good.” A broken moan vibrated from your chest, only making him more amused.

You did as he said, maintaining a rhythm that felt so good for both of you. However, after a few seconds, he felt like it wasn't fast enough, because the next thing you knew, he had planted his feet on the bed and thursted up into you, his grip on your waist tightening and breaking your rhythm, smirking at the broken moan you let out. 

“I need- please,” you moaned desperately as you felt him hit your g-spot over and over again. He watched with darkened eyes as you threw your head back and screamed his name. 

“Come on, wanna keep my cum inside your tummy?” As if he could drive you even crazier, one of his thumbs landed on your clit. His teeth flashed in a grin when you nodded, pressing harder. “Cum with me, baby.”

As soon as he said those words, the coil in your stomach tightened before breaking completely, more broken moans and a few curses slipping past your lips. He cried out when his orgasm followed soon after, filling your pussy with his hot cum. 

You fell forward onto his chest, his hands caressing your back under the sweaty shirt. “Good girl,” he muttered one more time as he pressed a sweet kiss to your head.

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Dead on main. No trick only treat.

~~Сhildhood friends and deals~~

The Justice League has to summon a ghost from another dimension to address the threat. They don’t know what price the Ghost King will take but there’s little time to bargain. Another spirit threatening them has already seized all the computers on their base. John doesn’t know what else to offer. A summoned ghost starts to look bored. Gold, jewelry? A favor from a member of the League? Like the Ruler of All Dead needs it. No one dares to make another offer, and the King is in no hurry to set out his demands. Maybe try to pull off a soul sale scam?

Suddenly, Red Hood breaks into the hall, walks up to Phantom and shakes his shoulder vigorously. Red Hood: You, get Technus out of here right now. I need access to the files and fast. Phantom: That’s rude, dude. Where did you grow up? in the cave? No "hello, no how are you, Danny", really? Red Hood: I’ll pay the usual price. Phantom: Deal.

What is the price? John sees Batman and gets in his way. The usual price, his guy said. Means Jay was already out of the deal alive and well. This hyperprotective bat would only piss off the ruler if he interfered.

The King quickly deals with his subordinate using a thermos and remains to watch working Hood. Red Hood: What do you want? I’m busy. Danny: You and I have a contract~ Red Hood: All right, all right. Jay throws M&Ms right in the face of the ghost. But king doesn’t look angry. He opens the package and starts sorting the candies by color. Phantom quickly eats up all the green ones and passes the red ones to Hood. Jason takes them without any questions.

Strange. John has never seen a summoned creature share its reward with a human. And the son of a bat looks too comfortable with it. Wait, since when do super-powered beings think that candy is a decent wage?John makes one of the most likely deductions using his experience. Constantine: Batsy, how long has your son been sleeping with the King of Ghosts? Batman: He…what?!

~~~~~~~

Dick *knocking at the door*: Little Wing, you hate ectoplasm and everything what is neon green, so why? He’s dangerous! Jason who turned on the music to not listen to his crazy family: ~He’s poison but tasty~

Dick: NoOOoo

~~~~~~

Jason: And now everyone thinks that I sold my virginity to you for a bargain or something, because interdimensional creatures like you aren’t supposed to help for nothing. Like you’re playing favorites. I’m gonna fucking kill John. Danny: Well, I wouldn’t say no to that. Jason: What? Danny: I mean, to k-kill John, yeah. How dare he.. Jason: Omg, you’re still so terrible liar, Fenton.

Danny: Sorry :(

Jason: No. Say it again.

~~~~Twelve years ago~~~~ Maddie wasn’t thrilled to learn that Danny was trying to make friends with Todd’s son. Their neighbor was terrible. And his son was definitely a street rat and probably a juvenile delinquent. Maddie: Danny, honey, there’s got to be a reason this boy is talking to you. Even kids from the crime alley are always looking for a bargain they can make or a fool they can fool. Danny: But Jason is so cool! He knows so much about books and alleys and.. Maddie: But you don’t want to be a fool, do you? Danny: Okay, Mom, I get it.

So, if Danny wants a cool friend, he’s got to offer a bargain.

He didn’t have a lot of pocket money for every month but Jason needed it more anyway. And his lunch that Jack was picking for him was big enough for two and only bitten on Tuesdays. Nice. Jason: Do I understand correctly? You will pay me and give me food, and I, what? Protect you from bullies? Danny: No! I’m not weak, I don’t need to be protected. Just..maybe we could sit together at lunch and walk each other home sometimes? Jason: Nay Danny: But why? You want something else? Jason: Money’s fine but your homemade food is…strange. Danny: I can bring sweets if you want. Jason: Deal. 3 pop tarts for a joint lunch, a party size bag of M&Ms if you waste my time out of school.

~~~~

Sometimes they share sweets when they hang out but more often Jayson takes them home to save in case his parents have money problems. Sweets have a long shelf life stored and he may not be afraid to poison himself. Over time, candy becomes their currency and a secret language for all occasions. Need help without unnecessary questions? M&Ms. Problems with learning? Skittles. The question is about family? Snickers. There will be a serious conversation? Pop Tarts.

Jason: One snickers and a pack of gum. Danny: Yeah, Jason? What do you want? Jason: My mom wants to meet my friend. Come to lunch on Sunday. Danny: Okay, you managed to pay for my expensive services. Jason:…and you just lost the gum from the deal.

~~~~~~

Jason threw a package at Danny: Three pop tarts. We need to talk. Danny: All right? Jason: Why are you avoiding me all week?! Danny: Well, it’s just..you’re Wayne now. Jason. Still Todd. And what about that? Danny: You can hang out with the cooler guys now, I didn’t want to embarrass you. Jason: Bullshit! I’m still the street rat, and you’re trying to avoid our contract. me. And I don’t even need money from you anymore. What the hell? I thought you are my friend. Danny: And I am!

~~~~~~

Robin: What’s a schoolboy doing in an alley at night? Danny: Um, I…nothing? Don’t tell my parents, Mr. Robin sir. Robin: It will cost you so many Chunky Bars, you have no idea. Danny:...Jason? Jason: N-no. Danny: Damn yes. What are you doing in green shorts on the street at night?! Jason: Cosplay. Danny: Oh yeah? Then I’m just your hallucination. Don’t hesitate to ghost me. I’m going home, Disgrace In Pixie Boots, bye. Jason: fu%&c$#u

[pomefioredove]

if its ok can i request a overblot boys and ruggie and kamil with a reader that just forgets to eat? like they can go the whole day without eating then suddenly they just get dizzy cause they haven't eaten and when they get asked why they passed out/not ate they're like "lol yeah i forgot to eat my bad gang🧍🏻" they're just so nonchalant and act like its whatever😭its ok if not if this makes you uncomfortable!! Love your blog pookie and make sure YOU eat properly💥💥

ahh... just like me fr. this ask actually reminded me to eat, thank you!

summary: reader who forgets to eat type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, ruggie, azul, jamil, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Riddle is also guilty of this

it's not that he's neglectful, it's just that...

...well... he's a little neglectful

it's usually Trey who has to remind him to take breaks from studying

none of that will stop him from scolding you, though

"What were you thinking, going a whole day without a meal? It's no wonder you're always so tired!"

expect lots of snacks from him after he's done berating you

he sends someone every day to make sure you've had something

(both a blessing and a curse)

you'll be in your room then suddenly Che'nya is there asking if you had lunch yet

and if not, you'll be recieving an invitation to Heartslabyul for tea

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona can't be bothered to ask why you're always so... out of it

he just assumes that's your personality

he even teases you for it, once or twice

then Jack offhandedly mentions that you rarely eat until dinner, and he gets all... worried

Ugh

suddenly, his room is always stocked with your favorite snacks from Sam's

what? no, they're not for you. he's just taken a liking to 'em. but you're welcome to have some if you'd like

his act is unconvincing

"What? Stop looking at me like that. I'm not some sap. I'm just making sure you don't go passing out on me,"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ruggie is worried that Crowley's cut your food rations

he'd been mooching off of you for a few months now, after all

plus, he knows what it's like to go hungry

of course, he doesn't outright ask. he doesn't want to embarrass you or anything

he just... casually offers to split meals and comes over once a week with half of his forage greens

"What, this? Nah, I just had extra. What, you're complaining about free food? Shishishi,"

you repay the gesture by making him a few meals, and it becomes a little tradition between the two of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

why, oh why, does Azul have to care about you so much?

he's become familiar that exact look on your face; distant, dizzy, disoriented...

and he's caught himself mid-scold far too many times

"Have you no sense of self-preservation? You can't keep relying on others to care for you; you'll only be taken advantage of,"

...and, of course, he's the poor soul who cares for you

he convinces himself that verbal reminders cost nothing

then he starts sending the tweels to make sure you've eaten

and then he insists you drop by the Mostro Lounge at least once a day

it's not that he's giving you his time and energy for free

he's just making an investment in you!

that's it. NOTHING ELSE! (<- lies)

(cue tweels giggling in the background)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Jamil

first Kalim, and now he has you to worry about, too?

of course; he has no obligation to help. that's what he tells himself

nothing will happen if he just ignores you

...except that sinking feeling in his stomach

Sevens, help him...

he starts letting you help around the kitchen

just... tidying up, doing the dishes, etc

and if you happen to want a bite of what he's cooking? ohoho, who is he to deny you the chance to test for poison?

(feigns to mention that these dishes have already been tasted)

"Good? Why, I'm flattered. You're welcome to help any time- how about tomorrow?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim will never pass a chance to host

you offhandedly mention that you forget to eat sometimes? just come over for breakfast!

and lunch

and dinner!

and you'll stay for dessert, too, won't you?

he's nothing if not gracious, and he has a penchant for taking care of others

he likes feeling useful, after all

just be ready to give him your full thoughts and feelings on every dish; he's already making a mental list of your favorites to serve every time you come over

"Hungry? No problem! We have all your faves waiting for you. What music do you want to listen to while we eat?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you know that Vil loves you, right?

so, so much?

good. because that love makes him want to shake you

of all the stupid things...

it's no use trying to hide it from him; you could look and act completely normal and he'd still see right through you

he can just tell

he has to restrain himself from threatening Crowley into letting you stay at Pomefiore so he can care for you

Vil believes you're capable, after all. you just need a little push

"I've set a daily reminder and stocked your kitchen. Remember that some food is better than none. If you need me for anything, I'll see to it as soon as possible,"

you can expect Epel and Rook to ask if you've eaten, on his behalf, every time you run into each other

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia sets like, 30 reminders in your phone

he knows as well as you do that three measly alarms won't be enough

...he, too, is guilty of forgetting to eat

he probably makes you a custom alarm sound and everything

a little pavlovian conditioning never hurt anyone, right? it's basically no different than training an AI

...or something like that

will send Ortho over to check your vitals every once in a while

"it's NBD. can't have u losing all your lives on me. who would tolerate me then?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

thank your lucky stars it's Malleus who notices your drowsiness first and not Lilia

Malleus, at least, will find you something edible to eat

he's trying to keep you alive, after all

he's very sweet and gentle about it

soft little reminders, nudges to keep you awake... he will up and leave a dorm meeting if he realizes he doesn't know if you'd had anything yet today

Malleus is very conscious about human mortality, and is very... delicate about it

he's just a little overprotective, that's all

it mostly comes to sharing little treats together every now and then. it feels less awkward when you're together, after all

"There is no need to thank me. I'm simply happy to spend my time with you,"

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: yandere, breakup, depression, schemes, manipulation, office au for some reason

can be read as a standalone, but also in compliment to this part 1

fem reader

It’s a funny thing. You’re not really his type.

You dress right for the office—long pencil skirts and buttoned-up shirts—librarian hairstyles and modest makeup. Nothing brazen or flashy or anything at all that garners much attention.

And it’s not like you flirt with him or anything. No, you’re perfectly friendly—funny at times, and nice—covering for him when he runs late, bringing candy for you to share, dishing the new office gossip.

Yeah, you’re his coworker. His work-buddy. Desk-mate. And you don’t try to be anything more—never one to over-share or pry into his personal matters. Your relationship is professional. Nothing more and nothing less. 

But it’s only natural, though, right? For a guy to fantasize about a girl when he sees her as often as he sees you—sitting right next to each other during full office hours, bringing each other coffee and lunch, and talking shit about the boss together. It would be strange not to—to imagine what you’d look like on your back or on your knees, what you sound like, what kind of face you make. And your preferences—if you would make him wear a condom or let him cum inside. If you like it rough or would rather, he lay belly up and let you take charge.

Your face is the one constant thing in his life—of course, he thinks about you as often as he does, in more ways than he'd like.

The thoughts don't concern him much in the beginning. It’s just one of those things the mind humors without your consent—it doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t matter much, even if it does. You’d never do any of those things with him anyway—you’re too vanilla, and he’s too much of a player. And besides, you already have a boyfriend.

And it’s not like he doesn’t have girlfriends, too—of course, he does—a new one every other week or so. So it’s not like he’s lonely or in any dire need of you.

No, Gojo doesn’t need you. He could have anyone else, and you’re already taken. No, he doesn't need you... 

Oh, but he wants you.

It becomes one of those things he can’t ignore whether he wants to or not. Fuck, you’re making his bachelor life feel boring. He could be in bed with a model—sounds of her pleasure filling the room, and all he’d be able to think about is you and what type of coffee he should bring you in the morning.

You’re ruining his style. 

He doesn’t know if it’s a tactic to flush you out of his head or a vie to pique your interest or maybe just to spite you for making his life a living hell—but he starts bringing his personal life to work. And by personal life, he means his sexual conquests.

You don’t say much of anything at first. You compliment him on how pretty his girlfriend is, only to be confused once a different girl comes by the next day. You say even less about it, then.

When the third girl comes, you try and make a joke—it’s obvious you feel uncomfortable. But he isn’t sure it’s the reaction he wants. In a way, it seems almost as if you feel sorry for him, which only serves to make him feel even worse.

It’s when your boyfriend comes during your break to take you out to lunch that he feels absolutely worthless. You have this smile on your face he’s never seen before—this glow about you.

Gojo realizes he’s never made any girl look like that, even while making them cum and scream his name. This look is something pure.

It makes him want to strangle your boyfriend to death right in front of you. He can barely muster a smile when you apologize for leaving him to lunch alone.

But in your absence, he musters up a new plan.

Men are fickle things, especially men like your boyfriend—men who’ve been in the same relationship for so long that they’ve all but forgotten the beast within—a dormant beast that's now starved eager to jump at anything that bears its neck.

It’s all too easy. He doesn’t even need to pay the girl to help, she does it all just to please him. Girls are quite disgusting, too, once he comes to think about it—lecherous beings who’ll do anything he says if he promises them he'll stay. He can’t believe he’s had so many of them in his bed—it makes his skin crawl with mites.

You’re nothing like them. You’re genuine. There’s a substance to you—something those whores lack. No, he couldn’t approach you like he would them. You’d only take him for the predator he was. No, for a girl like you to like a guy like him, he’d need to go to insidious means.

The girl approaches your boyfriend on his command—flirts him up, flusters him, makes him dumb—makes him reckless enough to think he can get away with it. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her is probably what he’s thinking as he goes home with a slut that looks nothing like his loving girlfriend.

Oh, but you will know if Gojo wills it. He’s got the pictures to prove all the depraved things your boyfriend got up to behind your back, and he’ll just as easily show them to you.

But no, that won’t break you. Funny enough, if he were to tell you your boyfriend was cheating on you, the heartbreak would be clouded by rage, and you’d break up with him and get back to work. But if you were the one to get dumped. Yes, your poor heart would fall apart and right into his arms. Yes, for a girl like you to want a guy like him, he'd have to make you just as pathetic and desperate.

And so, through his pawn, he blackmails your crappy long-standing boyfriend into breaking up with you with the threat of showing you all the lewd pictures of him getting nasty with a skank in a shoddy motel room.

And it works like a charm.

Your boyfriend does his bidding, and you break.

And the heartache is so palpable it leaves you sick and bedridden. You don’t show up for work for days.

And though it hurts not to see you, Gojo sits well at his desk with a smile on his face, knowing everything is going perfectly according to plan.

Yes, he’ll be a rebound at first, a mistake you make in a drunken sorrow—but soon... you’ll be the cutest office couple in the entire building. He'll make sure of it.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[wonustars]

In Front of Me (Teaser)

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriend to lovers, angst, smut (18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: TBA (this teaser: 679) ⊹ release date: TBA

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time. ⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, bestfriends to lovers (?), unrequted love, emotionaly stunted charcters, wonwoo has a bit of an ego, toxic!wonwoo&reader. (more tags and smut tag added to full fic when posted.) ⊹ note: im really excited to share this with you all. its not by any means done but heres a teaser for now since ive been away for so long ♡ also the teaser is not edited so pls just ignore if theres typos hehe. lov u all pls come into my ask box cuz i refuse to shut up abt this story :p.

⊹ masterlist, taglist, fic playlist.

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo.

Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the break up, to lose feelings first, every decision was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling. 

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up to your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been. 

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his bestfriend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it. 

{໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১  ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙}

Less than fourty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence is perfectly normal, then maybe, you would eventually end up answering him. 

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them? 

1:27 p.m.  [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond. 

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u.  [1 photo attachment] 

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today? 

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he had witnessed. 

4:30 p.m.  [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw. 

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin of all people solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back. 

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he can keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up.

⊹ a/n: if u want to be apart of the taglist please fill out the form, comment or send an ask! please note that i'll only add those who have an age indicator somewhere in their blog! thank you ♡

[evie-sturns]

5 times you pissed Matt off today, 1 time he did something about it.

summary: you've been self-centered and bratty to matt 5 times today, 1 time he puts you in your place.

warnings: smut, nsfw, teasing, fingering, orgasm denial, small use of bondage, swearing.

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1.

i stay perfectly still on the couch next to matt, i'm a solid meter away from him as i stare directly at the tv, the glare from the screen being the only light in the room.

i feel matt's eyes burning into me from the side, his arm reaches round and his cold fingers graze my bare thigh. i don't bat an eye towards him, keeping my eyes fixed on the movie.

he scoots closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me closer to him. he leans down, placing a kiss to my lips which i dodge.

his eyebrows scrunch, his arm rubbing my lower back. "you okay?" he whispers. i shoot him a side-eye before moving back over to 'my side' of the couch.

"i said are you okay?" he repeats himself, slightly louder this time.

"you okay you okay!" i mock him, he shakes his head quickly with his eyes shut "what?" he says, almost shocked.

"c'mere" he says, grabbing my thigh. i grip his wrist, pushing him off me with a "bro, fuck off of me."

his eyebrows scrunch "new nickname?" matt laughs, he thinks i'm joking.

"not a 'fuckin nickname." i say, heaving myself up off the couch. i walk out of the living room in a strop.

2.

i walk into the kitchen, matts standing over the stovetop. "making lunch, do you wanna help?" he asks me with a small smile.

"why would i wanna help..." i reply back, his eyebrows knit together, "just tryna be nice? are you okay?" he mumbles,

"am i okay? i'm alive and fucking breathing im fine matt!" i say, my tone bratty as i fold my arms.

matt turns back around, keeping his eye on what hes cooking up. i jump up onto the countertop, my eyes fixed on what hes doing.

i jump down and stand next to him, letting out irritatingly obvious breaths from behind him.

after another minute of silence i decide to break it instead of keeping up my 'obvious' hints. "why aren't you offering for me to help!" i say, he laughs slightly

"stop laughing matt" i groan, he looks down to his side at me "i asked you if you wanted to help and you gave me a pretty harsh no, i didn't know you changed your mind so quickly?"

i scoff, grabbing the spoon off him and starting to mix, he runs a hand through his hair as he watches me. he reaches a hand down to tie up my hair, instead i pull away

"my hairs fine! i can do it myself."

3.

i sit up against matt and i's headboard on our bed, scrolling aimlessly on my phone as i try to wind down for bed, i hear several soft taps on the door before matt walks in, he looks around.

"its a bit messy in here" he laughs as he looks around at the clothes i wore today spread across the floor, our bed is decorated in skincare products after my extensive night routine.

"not really" i shrug, tying my hair above my head.

he bends over, scooping up my clothes and shoving them in the closet,

matt walks over to the bed, reaching out to pick up the bottles of serum on our bed.

"matt no! you're gonna break them stop" i whine, "sweetheart half of the lids are off they're going to spill on the sheets." he sighs, going to pick the small containers up again.

i sit up, crossing my legs as i push his chest away, keeping up my stubborn mood.

"look at me, i'm getting into bed now and if you want your 'fuckin potions to spill then you can, but i'm telling you to move them yeah?" matt says in a serious tone, i shake my head.

he folds his tattooed arm as he looks down at me pouting on the bed, my pyjama shirt clinging to my body.

he leans over and picks me out of bed, placing me down on the arm chair in the corner of the room before cleaning up all of my products.

"matt-ugh!" i protest, throwing my head back into the comfy pink chair that matt let me pick out just over a week ago.

4.

"chris and nick are coming over, we're discussing video ideas okay?" matt says to me calmly. i nod "when?"

"they're pulling up now, but they will be here for a while so you're gonna be alone for a bit okay?" he continues, i hum in response with a small sigh afterwards.

after a handful of minutes nick and chris swing open the door, i run up to them, giving them a hug.

"its been so long!" i smile, "yeah i swear i've been in hibernation" nick laughs, placing his bag down and flopping down on the couch, chris follows along with matt next to them.

chris instantly starts speaking, "i think we should do a actual camping video, like out in the fucking wilderness" he says, reading off of his notes app.

"absolutely the fuck not, you can remove that from your list" nick laughs,

i slowly walk towards matt and i's room, already bored. i lay spread across the bed, mindlesly scrolling through instagram.

i hear the distant chatters of the triplets from the other room, i open messages,

matt

matt

matt

-read: 9:34pm

i spam texts, after a few minutes he walks into my room "you okay? whats wrong." he asks me, holding the door open

i sit up in bed, walking over to him "matt... i'm bored." i say, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"i know, i'll be another hour i'm sorry." matt whispers, "no stay here matt please." i protest, matt shakes his head. i don't let him go, clinging to him with a over-dramatic pout.

he scoops me up with a sigh, carrying me out into the living room where nick and chris sit still yapping on about video ideas. matt sits down, placing me on his lap. i lay against his stomach, throwing my head back on his shoulder.

each time matt talks i feel his chest move, shifting me slightly.

after a couple of minutes i start to fidget with the loose fabric on his shirt with a small exhale, "matt" i whisper, barely audible. he shifts his gaze towards me,

"mm?" he hums, "how much longer." i breathe out resulting in matt huffing with a roll of his eyes,

"can you be patient? c'mon." matt says, his tone serious.

5.

chris and nick just left, matt's gone silent now as we both stand by the door.

"whats up with you today?" matt asks, folding his arms. i look up at him with a shrug, "thats like what, 4 times now you've acted bratty?" matt states

"what are you trying to say matt!" i snap back at him, he scoffs.

"are you serious? you've been on my last nerve for the past 12 hours what's actually going on with you today." he says, i laugh

"sorry that you're being sensitive matt." i say, purposley pushing his buttons which i assume worked

he grabs my wrist firmly, dragging me over into our bedroom "matt let me go!" i protest, matt stays silent, his jaw clenched and lips pursed.

"put your arms up." matt says,

the best sex we have is when hes angry so i can't turn down this opportunity.

i lift my arms up with a eye roll, matt practically tears my baby pink tank top off my body, discarding it to the other side of our room.

he lifts me up before throwing me down onto the mattress, his hands getting a firm grip on the waistband of my pyjama shorts, he pulls them down my legs,

i have a smug smirk painted across my face which matt seems to notice, "think this is funny yeah?" matt asks, my smile only grows.

he leans down, his mouth inline with my ear "you aren't gonna be smiling like that once i've pushed you to your absolute limits." he whispers

my smile drops, my mind now fogging with scenarios.

he unbuckles his belt, pulling it through the hoops of his jeans. instead of pulling his jeans down he keeps them buttoned, him fully clothed and me bare infront of him

he gently grabs my two wrists before tying them together, he doesnt make the belt tight because even after everything i've done he doesn't want to physically hurt me.

he takes a firm grip of the insides of my thighs, pushing them open.

his fingers graze across my thighs, covering every inch of skin execpt for where i crave him most.

i whine, bucking my hips up into his fingers which causes him to smirk. "matt.." i groan

"i don't wanna hear it." he instantly replies

he continues to drag his fingers across my lower stomach, hips, inner thighs. i throw my head back, squeezing my eyes shut as the heat between my thighs grows painfully.

"matt.. 'm sorry." i give in he shakes his head, "wanna hear that louder." matt says,

"i'm sorry! please- fuck." i raise my voice in frustration.

"please what, what do you actually fucking want." he says

"touch me please! i need your hands oh my god." i almost beg him, "you do?" he teases

"i do please- please please.." i repeat myself.

he finally gives in, pressing two fingers inside of me easily after how worked up he's got me. i let out a breathless moan as he curls his fingers inside of me, repeatedly hitting a spot which is driving me crazy.

"you think you deserve this?" matt says, i hesitate before shaking my head 'no'.

he nods before pulling his fingers out of me, i sigh now feeling empty and on edge.

matt unbuttons his jeans, letting them fall down to his ankles. he pulls off his boxers.

hes fully hard, his tip the same shade as his lips and now dripping pre-cum.

i clench around nothing as he presses his tip to my hole, resting comfortably as he stares into my eyes, his eyebrows slightly raises.

hes waiting for me to speak, i'm willing to do anything at this point so i start

"matt please, i need to feel you inside me. i'll do anything please, matt please." i say, maintaining eye contact as i look at him with doe eyes.

he presses the tip inside of me, before stopping his movements.

he pulls out, i throw my head back in frustration "please!" i raise my voice.

i'm actually not sure how matts keeping his composure, i think i've pissed him off so much now he doesn't even care about himself he just wants to push me.

"im so sorry matt i just- i was in a weird mood." i say, which seems to be enough for matt to give in

he presses his length into me bottoming out, i sink my top teeth into my bottom lip, feeling him push against my walls.

"fuck- thank you." i sigh, earning a small laugh from matt

he doesn’t waste time on picking up his pace, repeatedly slamming inside of me

my desperate moans echo through out bedroom,

“acting like a brat all day? having an attitude and now your begging for my cock?” he says, his hair flopping against his pale forehead with each thrust

i hum in response, my voice breaking as he reaches a hand down and pinches my clit

“shit! i promise i didn’t mean to!” i shout,

matt shakes his head, his thrusts become messy as i feel my stomach tighten, my orgasm rapidly approaching.

“don’t cum.” matt says as i clench around him

“i can’t!” i instantly reply, my voice whiny.

“you will.”

with each second that passes i feel the knot in my stomach tighten,

i can’t help it anymore and i release with a pornographic scream of his name, matt never stops thrusting in and out of my hole, chasing his own orgasm.

i try to squirm but the fact my wrists are tied above my head aren’t helping me,

the sensitivity clouds my brain as i feel a mix of pain and pleasure “matt ‘m sore” i manage to say, fully dumb fucked.

“i’m not.” matt replies, his voice strained,

i hear several whimpers fall from his mouth before he thrusts into me a final time, coating my insides white.

he pulls out of me, collapsing on the bed next to me.

we lay in silence for a few minutes, trying to process what the fuck just happened.

he sits up and reaches for my wrists, untying the belt around them.

“was that too much? are you okay sweetheart i’m sorry.” matt says, still out of breath

“i’m- i..” i try to squeeze out a sentence but it just results in us both dying laughing

“i think i need a minute” i smile, rubbing my eyes. matt pulls me onto his lap, stroking my hair as he pecks kisses all over my face.

—

i said i wasn’t gonna post this today but i lied

[boobav]

Viktor this season has rlly inspired me. I hope you all enjoy the various drabbles :) I'll try write more here.

The first time you met Viktor, you recall, the sun was shining.

The meeting was perfectly ordinary. Not even a meeting, really, seeing as you learnt his name a week later.

With a cool breeze, you ate your lunch in silence, head held to the sun as though a flower in bloom. You closed your eyes, breathed deep. Meditative perfection.

And when you reopened them, he was there.

Half-frozen in the doorway, he gazed at you with what seemed like surprise, at the time. Later you'd learn that he was, from his own words, mesmerised.

"Professor." He'd said in polite greeting, looking away. You smiled, but he left the way he came before any conversation could commence.

The next meeting, he was the one sat outside, silently pondering something. You'd found his expression of concentration endearing beyond words. The furrow of his brows, the occasional, unconscious movement of his lips. The way his eyes lit up when they landed on you.

The weather that afternoon, when you'd strolled over to properly introduce yourself to the man, was similarly bright. A perfect blue running across the sky. A songbird somewhere unseen, and the breeze defined by its almost supernatural ability to alleviate.

You weren't superstitious, nor did you believe in signs, an elusive, irrational concept. But with his presence offering as much warmth as the sun, with the way his eyes ran nervously from yours only to return, bound by some societal principal of politeness, with the way he tested your name on his tongue that cloudless day, you thought maybe there really was something to the concept. Some sign leading you to him.

"How about we get lunch sometime?" You hadn't exactly thought the offer out. But his smile alone was quick to convince you of the idea.

"Of course," Viktor said, "are you... free now?"

"I think I had something planned, but I seem to have forgotten all about it..."

-

For a few months, then, you re-learnt what it meant to be alive.

To meet someone so perfectly in tune with your every move seemed fantastical, seemed like a sign. You spent free weekends not hunched over a desk, stressed beyond articulation, but with Viktor. You learnt of his work, learnt of the pure brilliance that bloomed at the mere touch of his hands.

And you learnt every contour of those hands. Pressed your lips into the palms, into every scar and cut. A fleeting remedy, but one he grew unable to live without. For he, too, had to re-learn what it meant to be alive.

He felt astoundingly undeserving of what you seemed so willing to provide. More than love, but adoration. Something almost approaching worship. He felt the weakness of his own body so acutely with yours pressed against it, so terribly perfect. Whatever scar or mark you seemed to mention in distaste, he loved. He thought, maybe, that you were some kind of sign. That things would get better. That the traitor he called a body would recover or, at least, stop wilting away.

But nothing changed. Not really.

Learning of his illness wasn't a shock, because it wasn't a secret. Jayce mentioned it to you often. The real shock came on slow. Like a spider taking it's time to crawl up your spine. As the months passed, the extent of its deteriorating effect showed itself. Viktor's heart, weak against your own. The bags under his eyes darkening further, his pale skin sinking pallid.

Happiness, by some twisted measure or other, seems to run from its owner more often than not.

You think you're living in a state of euphoria, a state of perfection for so long, the way we were supposed to exist. You feel as though nothing could break this film of joy over your life, that you're somehow exempt from reality.

But you're not.

Overtime, Viktor shut himself off. He spent more and more time in the lab. He had very little to say. When you broke down, the only consolation he could offer was a quiet apology, mumbled from across the room.

You dreamt of consolation. Every night, from then on. Endless fields of restorative ideas. Endless ways to make him feel better, to be there for him even if he found the idea ludicrous.

Because why would you waste your time with him? He knows you're better off somewhere else, stretched out in the warm weather without a burden as heavy as him on your back. The pillar you were in his life, crumbled by his own hand. He deemed it necessary. Convinced himself so.

But what could you do?

You could barely comprehend his struggle. How could you even begin to ease it?

This thought process kept you from physically seeking this dream of yours. A warning sign from your mind, a psychological guard rail which, in reality, only protected you from yourself. All these flowery ideas of reconciliation, bouquets of roses and trays of baked goods in your mind, and yet, you did nothing.

The attack on the council made sure that you'd never have the chance.

Jayce had been the one to tell you. Tell you that among the victims was the dream gifted to you every night, the man you viewed as an inseparable extension of yourself. And when you visited, stared up at whatever the hexcore was doing to Viktor, you felt an unparalleled hatred.

For yourself, for your failings and shortcomings. Every time a word came out wrong. Every time a day ended in silence.

Rising tensions, blood on the city streets. Soon, you had nothing left in Piltover besides a few shattered friends.

So you left.

-

Of course, you felt that you'd never see Viktor again.

Even if somehow he survived the critical condition he lay struggling in, you convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to speak to you. Perhaps out of self preservation. Perhaps out of genuine belief.

A knock at the door was already uncommon. And, certainly, a knock that specific. Gentle, apprehensive. You stumbled out of bed with an undeniable sense of neuroticism, convincing yourself of the knocks familiarity whilst simultaneously convincing yourself of your own delusion.

But, there he was.

Wrapped in a robe, which to you appeared regal, the blue sky beyond framing his pale face, was Viktor. A songbird carried the news, then another, but your words seemed inadequate compared to theirs.

He raises a hand to cup your face, the flesh replaced with something firm, something running with a strength he himself barely comprehends.

You place a kiss on his palm.