#emoji x Murphy

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 47)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers

A few hours earlier, at Cillian's house, Mara was sitting in her highchair, making a mess while she played with her food. She was on solids now, at least some of them, and she was as excited about her mushy peas as she was about her mashed potatoes.

Cillian couldn't help but smile as he watched her from the kitchen table. He had been a bit nervous about taking care of her on his own for the first time over night, but she was so calm and content that it seemed like she was truly enjoying her time at his place.

"Dada," Mara called out to him, lifting her tiny hands towards him.

Cillian's heart swelled with love at the sight of her. He got up from his chair and walked over to her, carefully lifting her up out of her highchair. He held her close to his chest as he kissed her on the forehead, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair.

"What is it sweetheart?" he asked, but of course, she wouldn't answer so he took it upon himself to figure out the mystery. 

"Dada," she repeated, reaching out a small hand to grab his stubble. Cillian raised an eyebrow as he marveled at how fast she was learning.

He walked her over to the living room and sat down on the sofa with her on his lap. She continued to look up at him, clearly demanding his full attention.

"What is it, sweetie?" he asked her, running his fingers through her soft, curly hair.

Mara shook her head and, before he knew it, she leaned in and touched his nose.  

"Dada," she exclaimed again, laughing at the silly little game they were playing, and Cillian smiled and played along, letting her poke his nose over and over again.

"Dada," she grinned, and Cillian kissed her on the cheek before lifting her up and spinning her around in a slow, gentle circle while she giggled along.

The love he felt for Mara was overwhelming. He had never known he could feel so much towards a person. It scared him sometimes, the depth of his affection for her but he wished that he could share this kind of familiarity and love with you as well.  But it was too late for him now. He had humiliated and hurt you beyond words, and no matter how many times he apologized, it would never be enough. At least not for you, and that was a pain he would continue to bear for the rest of his life.

Just as Cillian continued to play with Mara, doting on her cuteness and sweetness, he received the text from you, checking in on him. 

"Is Mara okay? Did she eat? She hasn't been very hungry lately," you asked  Cillian, hoping for some reassurance knowing that Mara was okay when apart from you.

It was the first time you had left her overnight since her birth, and despite Cillian's arguments about how it was about time that you trusted him with her, you still felt guilty for leaving her with a man who no longer loved you.

"Yes, she is fine. She ate well," Cillian texted back to you  , his fingers moving quickly over the keys as he kept one eye on Mara.

"Good. It makes me nervous, just do you know," you replied, then added a concerned emoji, causing Cillian to chuckle.

He knew how worried you were all the time when it came to Mara and, at least when it came to his daughter, you remained civil with him while, on the other hand, when he attempted to talk to you about anything else, including your failed relationship with him, you got angry. 

Thus, Cillian sighed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table before picking Mara up from her highchair again. She was chattering away to herself, clutching onto the spoon as if it were her most prized possession.

"Come on, Princess. Time for your bath," he said, tickling her under the chin as she giggled and squealed in delight.

As he carried her upstairs, she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaving tiny wet kisses on his neck, trying to blow raspberries on his skin as he sang songs to her about pirate treasures and buried gold.

Giving Mara a bath  was quickly becoming one of his favorite moments of the day, as it allowed him to laugh and enjoy his time with her without worrying about everything else that had happened between you two.

But as much as he loved spending time with Mara, the pain of losing you still lingered in the background, a thorn in his side that he couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried.

“Okay, up you go,” Cillian told Mara as he lifted her out of the tub and wrapped her in a soft, warm towel. "All ready for bed," he told her gently, smiling as she leaned her head against his chest, already half asleep which is when, suddenly, the doorbell rang.  

"Ding dong," Mara murmured, and Cillian chuckled as he carried her downstairs to see who it was.

Much to his surprise, it was his sister Siobhan standing at the front door, looking as if she had seen a ghost.

"Siobhan, are you alright?" he asked, sensing that something was up.

"I am and, fuck, I think you will be too," she told her brother who quickly covered Mara's ears.

"Language!" he  chided his sister as he opened the door wider. Siobhan rolled her eyes and walked in without a word, still looking shaken.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Siobhan. What's going on?" he asked, setting Mara down on the warm blanket on the floor before quickly gathering her pajamas. 

Siobhan sighed, running a hand through her hair before turning to face her brother.

"I just left a bar where I ran into Amanda," she murmured, slowly pulling her hairband off her head and letting it loose. Cillian froze, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of her name.

"What about her?" he asked hoarsely, his grip on Mara's clothes tightening, as if she was his chance at redemption. He was sick of hearing from her after she announced her pregnancy to you, and even the rest of his family, without any remorse for consequences. 

"She was drinking a few glasses of wine," Siobhan continued, narrowing her eyes at Cillian. "She looked quite hammered, actually," she then added, and Cillian inhaled sharply, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.

"And?" he asked, seeing how he really wanted nothing to do with her until their child was born and, even then, he wanted her to take a paternity test as he did not yet believe her that the child was even his, which was something that made her blood boil. 

"Well, isn't she pregnant?" Siobhan said, raising an eyebrow at him. Cillian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What is she doing getting wasted?" his sister pointed out, causing Cillian to shrug nonchalantly which made Siobhan shake her head in disbelief. 

"Jesus Cillian, don't you get it?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"I think she is lying about being pregnant," Siobhan exclaimed, her eyes wide and filled with righteous anger.

Cillian's shoulders sagged as he stared at his sister in disbelief. His mind raced as he tried to process what she was saying, but it all seemed too outrageous, too far-fetched to be true. How could Amanda be so cruel and manipulative?

"You think that she isn't pregnant?" he  asked, struggling to hide the hope and disbelief in his voice.

"Yes, I think she is lying about being pregnant," Siobhan reiterated, her arms folded firmly across her chest. "I mean, it's just a feeling I have gotten for a while now. I can't explain why, but I just feel like something isn't right," she said emphatically.

Cillian stared at his sister for a long moment, considering her words carefully. The thought of Amanda lying about being pregnant was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

"She sent me photos of scans and stuff, Siobhan.  I have seen them," Cillian said, feeling a sense of doubt creeping into his mind.

Siobhan sighed and shook her head. "I know, but it's not that hard these days to falsify documents like that. I mean, she could have easily gotten them off the internet and then passed them off as her own. And besides, I saw her drink- she must have been at least three or four glasses deep, maybe more. There's no way she is pregnant," Siobhan continued, and Cillian felt himself growing increasingly uneasy. "She isn't even showing yet and I just have a bad feeling about this all. I had this bad feeling from the beginning, but I didn't want to believe it."

Cillian stood before her, feeling stunned as his sister laid out her suspicions to him. He couldn't believe that Amanda could be capable of such deception. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed possible. 

"So, you just happened to be at that same bar as Amanda?" Cillian  asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Yeah, I was grabbing drinks with some friends and she was just there," Siobhan replied with a shrug, lying to her brother while looking at him curiously, trying to gauge his reaction.

"What did she say when she saw you?" Cillian asked, still holding Mara's pajamas.

"Not much, actually. She just kind of...left," Siobhan said, furrowing her brow as she tried to remember before admitting to her brother that she had actually been keeping an eye on Amanda through work.

"Alright, I knew where she was going tonight. I have been keeping an eye on her for a while and her secretary is a big chatter box, so I knew where to go tonight," Siobhan continued as she stared at Cillian intently. "Listen, I just had a gut feeling that something was off about her pregnancy and my gut is usually right," Siobhan added and Cillian felt a wave of emotions wash over him at his sister's revelation. Confusion, excitement, disbelief, and rage all coursed through him simultaneously.

"But, why would she do that?" Cillian stammered, the words catching in his throat but Siobhan did not know the answer to his question.

"Amanda has always been manipulative when it came to you ," she whispered, running a hand through her hair. "She probably thought that she could get what she wanted from you if she played the 'pregnancy card'," Siobhan explained and Cillian quickly became determined to tell you about it all, thinking that, perhaps, it would make a difference. 

"Y/N needs to know that this all a big fat lie,"  Cillian murmured, looking at Mara before turning his eyes to his sister again.

"She does, although, honestly Cillian, I don't think it will make a difference. You cheated on her with Amanda, which is why she left you, and frankly, it was the right thing to do," Siobhan retorted, arching an eyebrow at her brother.

Cillian nodded in agreement. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help but feel guilty all the same. He had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him, and now he was left to pick up the pieces of his broken family.

"I know Siobhan, but sometimes I wonder if we have another chance somehow, you know?" Cillian asked his sister wistfully, staring at the floor as Mara played contentedly on the blanket where she had been placed. "I love her so much and I wish that we could just start all over again, with a clean slate," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as, suddenly, he broke down.

Siobhan sighed and walked over, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You hurt her Cillian, and you have to live with that. You can't take it back, you can't erase it," she told him gently.

"I know, but I am prepared to do anything it takes to get back" he admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"And that's admirable, but for now, you need to focus on being a good father to Mara, and maybe in time, things will work out between you and Y/N," Siobhan advised, her tone soft and supportive. "It might take years though, so just know to be patient," she then told him and Cillian nodded, wiping away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks

Siobhan squeezed his shoulder and then let go. "Come on, let's get Mara into bed. Then we can talk some more," she said, offering him a small smile before picking up Mara from the floor.

Cillian took a deep breath and followed his sister upstairs, feeling a mix of emotions.

He was still reeling from the revelation that Amanda might not be pregnant, but he knew that it was only one small piece of the puzzle. The real challenge would be convincing you to give him another chance, something which seemed impossible at this point.

As they entered Mara's room, Siobhan began the bedtime routine, changing her diaper and dressing her in her favorite pink sleeper. Cillian watched them quietly, feeling a sense of longing deep in his chest.

He missed you, missed the convenience and familiarity of having you in his life, not to mention the deep emotional connection you once shared. 

You were perfect for him in all the right ways, not just as the mother of his child but he also knew that he needed to earn your trust back, but he wasn't sure where to begin.

As Siobhan finished putting Mara to bed, she turned to her brother with a concerned expression. "Are you alright, Cillian?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm.

Cillian took a deep breath and tried to push the thoughts of you and Mara out of his mind. "I will be, Siobhan," he said, trying to reassure her. "I will figure this out somehow."

Siobhan nodded, walking with him down the stairs and into the living room. Cillian sat down heavily on the sofa, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.

As if sensing his turmoil, Siobhan sat down beside him, taking his hand in hers. "Can I tell you something, Cillian?" she asked, and he turned to look at her, nodding silently.

"You are an idiot for having slept with Amanda but, maybe Y/N will find it in her heart to forgive you. If she doesn't though, you should be grateful for how much she allows you to be in Mara's life," Siobhan told Cillian gently, holding his hand firmly as she offered him some hard truths. "Most women in her position would be much more vindictive than her and you need to appreciate the effort she makes when it comes to the joint custody agreement you so desperately want for your daughter, so do not screw this up by pestering her," Siobhan continued. 

Cillian sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he leaned back on the sofa. "I know Siobhan. I am lucky to have Mara in my life, and I am grateful for that, but I want more. I want Y/N back. I love her, and I don't know how much longer I can keep going like this," he whispered, feeling the weight of his emotions press down upon him.

"Give it time, Cillian. Things will work out if they are meant to, but for now, you need to give her some space," Siobhan encouraged her brother softly, rubbing his hand gently. 

Cillian sighed deeply, opening his eyes and looking at his sister. "I hope you're right, Siobhan. I really do," he whispered fervently, wanting nothing more than to have a second chance with the love of his life.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

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[slut4thebroken]

Cillian Murphy characters tumblr fic recs

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Smut - no emoji

No smut - 🚫

Fluff - ✨

Angst - 🖤

Dark content - ❗️ (noncon elements)

Personal favorites - 💕

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my masterlist

tumblr fic rec masterlist

Updated: 10/25/23

༺˚ʚ Favorite Writers ɞ˚༻

@mypoisonedvine @lovelybucky1 @pinguwrites @kiss-me-cill-me @ilovefictionalpsychopaths @mysaintkitten @scorpiussage

༺˚ʚ Jonathan Crane ɞ˚༻

Drabble: Dr. Crane helps a patient with a fear of being penetrated

thoughtless❗️

gemini ❗️+ jackson rippner

༺˚ʚ Jackson Rippner ɞ˚༻

Subway Groper

“I wanted him to see what I’m going to do to you.”❗️💕

Drabble: Jackson has fun while waiting for a ransom❗️

༺˚ʚ Robert Fischer ɞ˚༻

just business (sub!robert fischer x dominatrix!reader)

༺˚ʚ Thomas Shelby ɞ˚༻

Equal

Treat Me Wrong

Nectar

༺˚ʚ Robert Capa ɞ˚༻

Can’t Focus❗️

Touch starved dark!Capa❗️

[bullet-prooflove]

Past Mistakes - Part Twenty Two: Perfect - Mike Duarte x Reader (Feat: Joe Velasco)

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @resonmalvo @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @wooshwastaken @hearthockey @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @rosaliedepp @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @whateversomethingbruh @burningpeachpuppy @legit9thlunaticwarrior @kiwiithecrazybird @spooky-pomegranate @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @plaidbooks @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx

Past Mistakes Series:

Part One: Try - Mike turns back up in your life after three years apart.

Part Two: Hope (NSFW) - Mike and you get reaquainted.

Part Three: California - Mike and you discuss the past.

Part Four: Favours - Mike asks Liv for a favour.

Part Five: Choices - Mike comes face to face with someone from his past.

Part Six: Truth Hurts - Mike begs you to tell him the truth about what happened three years ago.

Part Seven: Sharing - Mike and Joe have a conversation.

Part Eight: Buried - Mike discovers that McGrath’s misdeeds go far futher than he thought.

Part Nine: Complicated - Mike discusses moving forward.

Part 10: Feral - Mike returns to the apartment to find you’ve disappeared.

Part Eleven: Torture - You wake up in the basement.

Part Twelve: Fire - You and Joe discuss moving forward.

Part Thirteen: Lost Time - You and Mike get real on his porch.

Part Fourteen: Plan B - Mike always has a plan B.

Part Fifteen: Proud - Mike tells you how proud he is of what you’re doing.

Part Sixteen: Mattituck (NSFW) - You show Mike how much you love him.

Part Seventeen: Seven - Joe makes a discovery.

Part Eighteen: Patterns - Benson and Murphy discover the reality of McGrath’s misdeeds.

Part Nineteen: Mike & Nora - Joe learns the story of your relationship.

Part Twenty: Bad News - Joe calls Mike with bad news.

Part Twenty One: All The Way - You and Mike make a decision regarding your futures.

The only unofficial mail that Joe receives in his SVU pigeon hole are postcards from you. Today’s is of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Franisco, before that it was L.A and before that San Diego.

See you in Las Vegas! You’re written in your cursive scrawl. It arrives in an envelope with a hand drawn wedding invitation, something you’ve sketched on the back of a pink napkin. He can’t help but laugh because if there’s anything you and Mike aren’t, it’s conventional.

It’s been six months since Duarte retired from the Gang Unit, he’d taken his Mustang and you on the road trip that you had always talked about. Joe’s got a drawer full of postcards from the two of you, he can’t explain how much each and everyone means to him. What the three of you had been through had created a bond that was forged in fire and blood, a connection that stretches over the distance.

He takes his pen and ticks yes on the RSVP section of the invitation before snapping a picture and sending it to you. You respond with a heart emoji almost immediately and Joe books his plane ticket the next day.

***

When Joe arrives in Las Vegas, it’s you that’s waiting for him at the airport.

The three of you had gotten close in the aftermath of the investigation. He’d visited you and Duarte a handful of times before the two of you departed. You'd had stayed up most of the night shooting the shit, it had gotten deep at some points.

Joe had found himself discussing his life in Juárez, how he’d been recruited into a gang, send to Fortworth to perform a hit, that he’d run away to New York when he couldn’t do it. He’d told you both his secrets and in turn you’d shared yours. You’ve both lived in the darkness, endured it the same way he had. It makes the difference being around people understand what it’s like to carry that.

"Mike’s picking up the marriage licence." You tell him at the airport. 

You look good, healthy. You move with a confidence he isn’t used to seeing in you, you’re more relaxed, more grounded these days.

When the three of you sit down for dinner Joe notices that Mike seems to smile a lot more, he laughs with his whole body instead of that wry, suppressed chuckle. He realises he’s seeing the man that Mrs Evaristo talked about, the one that was happy, in love.

The place you’ve chosen to get married is the Glass Gardens Chapel, a stunning indoor themed venue with plush living trees lining the aisle and a glass ceiling that resembles the sky. It’s beautiful, Joe has never seen anything like it.

A smirk plays across Mike’s features when he sees Joe’s reaction.

“Did you think we’d be getting married by Elvis?” He teases the other man as he adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket.

“It is a Vegas wedding.” Joe shoots back before taking up his position alongside Mike, his hands clasped in front of him.

Mike clears his throat as they wait for the music to begin.

“Thank you for including me in this.” Joe says, straightening his spine. “It means a lot to me that you asked me to be a part of it.”

Mike inclines his head towards Joe.

“You helped make this happen.” Mike says quietly. “That night I was planning to run, you were right. We would have spent the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, it would have killed her. Now she’s free and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as happy as she is today.”

“Give it a few more minutes and I’m sure that’ll change.” Joe teases before he tilts his head towards the entrance.  

The music starts to play, and Joe recognises the song ‘Home’ by the Magnetic Zeroes. It’s perfect, he thinks as you appear in the doorway.

Absolutely perfect.

Love Mike Duarte? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Want more Mike? Check out his Masterlist here!

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[soleilceirinen]

Renaissance | teacher!Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader - Part 6

Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. A/N: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternative universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistake! Part 5 - Cillian Murphy Masterlist - Part 7

Unlike most people, you liked Mondays. To you, it meant the beginning of a new week, a reset. But this Monday was different and so far, you hated every second of it. 

After your kiss with Cillian last Friday, you decided not to go further that night so he drove you to your flat. Once there, you said goodbye with a bunch of tiny kisses and the promise to talk later but it never happened.

You had spent the weekend staring at your phone, waiting for a reply to the text you had sent him. It just said “Good morning!” and a flushed emoji but he never answered. So, considering his lack of response, you sent him an email with your project progress, to which he didn’t reply either. 

And now, you had been sitting in the classroom for forty minutes while listening to him talk about Margaret of Austria’s portrait collection. Forty minutes in which he didn’t look at your direction at all, as if you were invisible. 

You continued taking notes until the end of the lecture, breaking the paper sheet a couple times due to the pressure with which you were writing. When the other students had left the classroom, you walked to his desk to confront him. 

“Good morning, Cillian.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the papers and books scattered around his desk when he answered you.

“Mr. Murphy is the proper way to address me, miss Y/L/N. Can I help you with something?” 

You looked at him in disbelief. 

“Well, I texted you and you never said anything back, I was worried,” you admitted. He just shrugged dismissively.  

“There’s nothing to worry about. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes, Mr. Murphy,” you said bitterly, “I also sent you a few new pages of the project so you could review them and give me some feedback.”

Cillian sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“I looked over it, it’s okay but be careful with the paragraphs and the structure. If you need something else, my tutoring sessions are Tuesdays at 11 a.m. and Thursdays at 18 p.m., you can find me at my office.” He looked at you briefly, before saying “Have a nice day, miss Y/L/N.” 

You didn't know how to react to his sudden coldness so you frowned and left the classroom with the ghost of tears stinging your eyes.

The rest of the week went by the same way, with Cillian ignoring you and only addressing you to make a comment about your project. As far as you were concerned, you had no idea what could have caused that change in his attitude but it made you feel quite miserable, just to think of what could have been and wasn’t. 

After a long morning of lectures you were finally free to go and have lunch. You and Olivia had met to eat at a Japanese restaurant near the university. Once seated at your table, you noticed that she was quieter than usual. 

“So, how is everything going for you?” you asked. “Are you still seeing that guy, the artist?”

She frowned and shook her head. “No way. At least not after he painted my pussy on a 120 x 160 canvas and displayed it for everyone to see.”

“Well, I can tell you something, it was sold” you comforted her. “By the way, I thought you knew which part of you he was painting.”

Olivia groaned and hid her face in her arms. 

“He never told me, said it was a surprise. His favourite part of me, you know” she added, rolling her big eyes. “But let’s talk about something else, what about you? You look sad.”

You shrugged. “It’s nothing, I’m a bit overwhelmed with my final project but…” You stopped talking when you saw a group of people sit a couple of tables away. 

They were teachers, you realised since some of them had taught you in recent years, plus Cillian was among them. He also noticed your presence, you caught him looking at you but he immediately looked away. Olivia looked at you with half closed eyes and then she turned around to look at the teacher’s table. You grabbed her arm to make her stop.

“Don’t do that!”

“Why not?” she asked suspiciously while you tried to hide the fact that you were starting to blush. 

“That’s my final project tutor” you whispered. “Don’t look!”

Olivia made a face of annoyance at you. “If I can’t look, how am I supposed to know which one is your tutor? I’ll just take a little look, they won’t notice, I promise Y/N”, she assured. 

You nodded slightly, accepting the fact that they would notice anyway. “Okay. It’s the guy with blue eyes.”

After a failed, as expected, attempt to be subtle, Olivia focused again on you leaning on the table so that nobody else but you could hear her. “He’s handsome but he looks like he’s sucking on a lemon.”

You couldn't help but burst out laughing, narrowly avoiding choking on your soda. 

“Olivia!”

She giggled with you, satisfied with herself. 

“At least I made you smile.” 

The rest of the meal was uneventful, just you and Olivia catching up. It had been a long time since you had such a good time with your friend like this but sadly, it had to end. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get on time to work. Olivia led the way to the door, taking the opportunity to look closely at Cillian as she passed their table. You followed her, nodding in his direction as you walked past him. 

“Y/N”

You turned around slowly. Cillian was about to get up from the table, some of the teachers looked at you with curiosity and others with recognition. You smiled at them politely. 

“What is it, Mr. Murphy?”

“I need to talk to you”, he said. You wanted to slap him in the face, right on his stupidly perfect cheekbones. You felt your blood boiling with his audacity after ignoring you for a whole week 

“I’m sure it can wait until Monday, or you can send me an email. It’s very simple but I guess it’s up to you. Goodbye Mr. Murphy, have a nice weekend everyone.”

Later, you were sitting at the art gallery office with your final project opened on your laptop. On calm days like that, you used to take the opportunity and study. Maureen and Laura didn’t care about it. 

A knock on the door made you take your eyes away from the laptop screen. There was Maureen, with her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun while holding a plastic bag. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N. How are you?” 

“I’m fine, everything is quiet here. I was trying to write some more of my research but I think I’ll give up for today. What about you?”

She took a seat next to you and started searching for something in the bag while talking. 

“Don't get saturated, sometimes it is better to let a few days pass and return to the project with more energy and inspiration.”

You nodded in agreement. Then, Maureen took out a small photo album and started flipping through all the pages. 

“We want to make a video for the wedding with photos of us from when we were children and teenagers, you know, until we met. So yesterday I spent all day going through photo albums and came across this, I thought you might like to see it.”

She held a polaroid in front of you. Carefully, you took it and examined it in detail. In a handwriting that you recognised as Maureen’s, it said Summer ‘99. It wasn’t difficult to tell who they were since they looked the same, but younger.

“It’s you and Cillian” you stated. 

“We took that picture the summer after we graduated from university, we were about your age there.”

“So, you and him know each other really well or just as former classmates?” you wondered, still looking at the polaroid. She sighed. 

“We are very close, even though he likes to disappear from time to time.” She took out another picture and gave it to you, putting the other one back in the album. “You can keep that one, since you see Cill more than I do, you should have a chance to give it to him. It could bring back good memories, right?” 

You stared at the polaroid and nodded absentminded. From the corner of your eyes you saw Maureen get up after hearing Laura call her from the gallery, she gave you a little squeeze in the shoulder before disappearing. 

In the photograph was a young Cillian smiling from ear to ear, with messy hair and a sunburnt face, which surely would explain the amount of freckles he had now. Also, the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners was still the same, although more accentuated with the years. 

Despite all that had happened, you couldn’t help but feel a certain nostalgia. 

A sound coming from your laptop made you look, there was a new message from Cillian. He wanted to meet you in his office on Monday afternoon. Your answer was concise, just to let him know that you would be there.

Only then you were aware of the knot that had formed in your stomach. You were hoping for things to develop smoothly and go back to normal, as they were before that week. But just like it happened with your roommate Brad, deep inside you had the suspicion that what Cillian had to say wasn't good news.

[preciouslandmermaid]

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) -- Part 4

Note: [eyeball emoji] Ya’ll better have some water bottles ‘cause this one is SPICY. But then it gets angsty again LMAO.

Pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

Content: 18+. Smut. MDNI

Warnings/Tags: foul language, banter/rivalry, slow burn, denial of feelings, protected sex, injury occurrence (minor burn), praise kink.

Chapter Synopsis: It’s been two weeks since your Ratatouille-Moment after trying Marcus’ cake and deciding to open your own bakery. You’ve returned to Chicago and to help a friend cater a birthday party. Your halfway through your work when Richie asks you what you’re doing at his daughter’s birthday.

Passion comes in many flavors, but you didn’t think it would taste so sweet.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

(Read on Ao3)

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

And I’m thinking – I can take this dude. He’s tall but—"

“How tall?” Fak cut in and asked while hunched over, twisting a wrench along the pipe beneath the bathroom sink. “As tall as Conor Murphy?” He asked, referencing a player on the Chicago Blackhawks, who was notably over six feet.

Richie crouched beside Fak near the toolbox, “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t measure him. He was like as tall as me, dude.”

“You’re not that tall.” Fak said. He grunted with force before the nut finally came loose and clattered onto the white tiles.

He scoffed. “Fuck you. I’m six one.”

“Can you pass the flashlight? Thanks.” Fak peered into the pipe and checking for why it was clogged, “That’s like average.”

“Whatever, man. You didn’t see him. Anyway, as I was saying, I was about to clock this dude – right? Now, I’m not trying to white knight, okay? And before you get on my ass, I know what that term means. But it wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about then?” Fak encouraged, laughter in his voice, now fully invested in the story of the ‘douche from New York’ who visited with the ‘hot piece of ass from across the street’.

“I should’ve—” Richie mimicked punching someone while biting his lip.

“Because like you don’t come into MY house, right? You don’t come into my fucking house and start bossing people around - bossing my customers around and shit. He was asking questions and it’s like dude--order your fucking sandwich and leave. I’m not fucking Wikipedia for Sandwiches. I don’t need to fucking tell you what we make our giardiniera with.” Richie ranted.

He scoffed, then mimicked the Douche From New York, “Is it organic giardiniera?” He rolled his eyes, passing Fak a thin piece of wire at his request. “Like fuck off.”

Fak laughed, delighted. “He really said that?”

“He said that!”

“Wait. Why did you try to fight him?”

“I already told you. Because he was being a fucking—a fucking dick!” Richie gestured aggressively with his hand, “and I didn’t try to fight him. He left before I could throw down.”

Carmy stepped into the tight customer bathroom, “We good in here?”

“Yeah,” Fak tugged on the serrated, thin wire that was used to clean hair and other gunk out of pipes. The wire slid from the mouth of the pipe with a sucking, wet sound, and a wadded reddish-pink clump plopped onto the tile like the worlds’ most dejected jellyfish. Everyone stared for a second as comprehension dawned.

“What the fuck is that? Dude – “ Richie gawked, “is that a fucking tampon?”

Fak picked it up by the string with a gloved hand. “Yes, Richie. Yes it is.”

“Great.” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fak – uh – c-can you just put up a sign that says don’t put shit down the sink, please?”

“On it.”

“Thank you.”

“Who puts a fucking tampon in the sink? There’s a trash right fucking here.” Richie shook his head in disbelief and Fak giggled.

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

You stepped off the plane and into the terminal while scrolling through your phone and dragging your rolling suitcase behind you. Your phone vibrated incessantly as airplane mode was turned off and service was back on.

It had been two weeks since you were in Chicago.

After your epiphany, you bought the first ticket back to Cincinnati and strolled through your favorite neighborhoods. You went to bakeries and grocery stores and cafes. You talked to owners, pastry chefs, and waiters. You talked to their customers when the opportunity revealed itself. You visited your friends. They offered their perspectives and gentle, unwavering support. You slept on their couches and air mattresses and in guest bedrooms. After a week in Cincinnati, you booked a flight to Washington DC to experience a bakery that won several local and international awards. You took a rental car to New York City where you spent the last few days repeating the same process of talking to pastry chefs, tasting food, and taking notes. Your notebook was ready to split at the seams.

Your brain was fogged with jetlag. Your stomach sloshed with coffee and half a granola bar. You had about a hundred things to do. Yet you still felt excited. It was good to be back in the city. Tim called you earlier this morning and informed you that the refrigerated cases you ordered (for displaying cakes) were installed. You shoved your suitcase into the backseat of the taxi and checked the time on your phone screen.

“Where to Miss?” The driver asked.

“Uh…shit. Let me check.” You pulled up the text from your friend, Margot, “50 East Walton St.”

You checked and replied to emails while the driver pulled away from the curb and merged onto the highway. Margot’s sister-in-law, Delilah, owned a bakery called ‘Sweet Sensations’ and after hearing about your business plan—Margot made the call to have you shadow with them. It would hopefully give you the hands-on experience you craved.

You generously tipped the driver and pulled your suitcase out from the back. Ordinarily, you’d go home first. But Delilah said they were catering a party today and if you could get here ASAP then that would be ideal. You were always up for a challenge.

Delilah greeted you at the back where deliveries were accepted. She was a tall, willowy woman with pale-blonde hair tucked beneath a hairnet. She wore pink cat-eyeglasses over her friendly brown eyes.

“I honestly thought you were kidding when you told me you were on the way.” She said, smiling warmly. “Did you have a nice flight?”

You exchanged pleasantries and small talk with her before getting down to business. She offered for you to lock your suitcase in her office and gave you a uniform to borrow. The uniform involved a bright pink t-shirt with the bakeries’ name written in flowing, white script that glittered under the fluorescent lights and a baseball cap with a  cupcake on it. She provided you with a white apron that covered your lap. And after a quick once-over, she deemed your shoes safe and acceptable. The clothes fit, but they felt a bit like trying on your parent’s shoes as a kid. Awkward, out of place, too big and gawky. You tugged on the hem of the shirt.

“Now, we’re doing a six-year old’s birthday party. The cupcakes are already made so it’s just a matter of delivering them and helping to set up.” Delilah explained. “We’re a team so just ask any of us for help or any questions.”

“I really appreciate the help, Delilah.” You said earnestly. “Especially considering our professional relationship going forward.” You had big plans to include delivery in your bakery as well, but you wanted it to expand beyond the 713-area code. You held a personal goal of delivery services nationwide.

Delilah smiled wider, “There’s always more birthdays happening year after year. I think we’ll survive another sweet shop on the street.” She said with a playful wink. You found her ease and confidence to be calming and charming. You’re not sure when the thorn was pulled from your side at the thought of other restaurants and bakeries around you. Logistically, they were your competition. They were a threat to your profits and livelihood. It just didn’t stress you out as much anymore.

“Actually, I do have one question.”

“Mhm?”

You gestured to your outfit and the pastel-pink palette of the kitchen, the front of house, and nodded toward the lined up pink delivery vans.

“How much do you love the color pink?”

Delilah laughed brightly. “Oh, well, it’s only my favorite - can’t you tell?”

You smiled, “I mean…it’s only a little obvious.”

“Subtly never came easily to me.” She shrugged, “I figured I may as well embrace it.”

Your chest warmed. In some situations, you were about as graceful as a shovel to the face. It was nice to know there were others in the world as blunt as you were.

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

Delilah left you alone to arrange the cupcakes on the serving table. They were meant to be arranged on a three-tiered platter. It wasn’t too hard. The only tricky part was not getting frosting on your gloves. The cupcakes were incredibly delicate. It was counter intuitive, you thought, to have such fancy cupcakes at a children’s party. They were just going to smush them into the grass or something.

“No fucking way!” A familiar voice announced from behind you.

You spun with a cupcake in hand and met Richie’s bright blue gaze.

“What are you doing here?” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit pants. He was wearing a Beef T-shirt which made you wonder if he called out of work today to be here. Wait, why was he here? Nevermind. It simply didn’t matter. Richie could go to whatever birthday parties he wanted to go to. You idly hoped The Beef wouldn’t suffer too much without him working the front of house. Then again, your mouth twisted humorously, maybe Richie’s absence would be an improvement.

You looked pointedly at the cupcake in your hand. “Setting up.” You turned back to your work and tried vainly to ignore Richie. See, something you learned about Richie was that he loved the sound of his own voice. You couldn’t just turn away and expect him to stop talking.

“I can’t believe you’re catering Eva’s birthday.” He said, chuckling, “Small world, huh? Small world.”

You carefully picked up a cupcake and gingerly placed it on the platter. They were frosted in a twisted two-tone of lavender and light pink with silver sprinkles. At least, this batch was. The second tier was light blue and dark purple frosting with dark chocolate. The final tier was a gluten-free option with white vanilla frosting.

“So, what happened with your spot? You’re not doing that or what?” You heard a telltale click of a lighter behind you.

“I’m helping Delilah.” You said in a reserved tone. “My spot is fine.”

“So, you and Carmy?” He queried with obvious interest. You wished you could throw a cupcake at him. Once my bakery is up and running, I will make a cupcake, and I will smash a cupcake into Richie’s face just to see what happens. You swiped your frosting-tinged fingers onto the front of your apron and shot Richie your coldest glare.

“Don’t you have something better to do than to gossip?” It was a weak retort, but you couldn’t help it. Your mind ruptured on the very real possibility that Carmy told people about you and about what happened between you. And why wouldn’t he? Guys talked about their casual sexual encounters all the time. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t a secret. You needed to get your head back into the game. You huffed and returned to the cupcakes.

“Hah! I knew something was going on!” He snapped his fingers. “He’s been different since meeting you. I fucking knew it. I knew it.”

“Nothing is going on.” You said firmly.

“Oh yeah? Then why’s he such a little bitch baby?” Richie asked. It was probably a rhetorical question. You bent over to reach for another cupcake out of the container and whipped your head to look at Richie – he was smoking and looking smug. The urge to throw a cupcake was astronomical.

“Wow! And here I was convinced that the role of bitch baby was your position.”

“Hey.” He pointed two fingers at you while holding his cigarette between them, “You don’t know shit about my positions.”

You snorted. “I’m sure it’s nothing fancier than missionary with the lights off.”

“Whoa!” Richie shouted, throwing his hands in the air, “I’ll have you know—”

“Nope!” You interrupted. “I absolutely don’t want to know!”

Richie barreled on, “that people call me insatiable, okay? Yeah?” He said, raising both eyebrows and pointing at you again.

You pressed the palms of your hands over your ears, not caring if you got leftover frosting on your face or in your hair. It was a small price to pay for the relief of deafening Richie’s sex-escapades.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Yes, you can! I know that you can!” He said, stepping closer to you, and the smoke from his cigarette swirled between you in whorls of gray like frosting pushed from a piping nozzle.

“I can’t!” You lied, shouting over him. “No one wants to hear it, Richie!”

“Oh, they fucking hear it, alright? The whole neighborhood hears it.”

Despite his height, you didn’t feel overwhelmed, nervous, or cornered. It was like arguing with a string bean. There was nothing threatening about him. You laughed incredulously, which unfortunately revealed you could hear him, and Richie’s eyes brightened.

“Aha! I knew you could fucking hear me.”

“I can hear you but I’m not listening.” You clarified.

“You guys okay over here?” Delilah asked with a tight-lipped smile. You and Richie looked at her in tandem.

“Yup.” He said.

“Yeah.” You said.

You noticed Carmy walking toward the table and your heart plummeted to your toes. Fuck. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him for two whole weeks. You thought and hoped that time and distance would lessen the visceral effect he had on you. Unfortunately, it did not. His dark hair was messily curled around his face, a patchwork jacket covering his frame, and a giftbag dangled loosely from his long fingertips. A surge of heat flooded your face at the memory of those capable, confident hands.

Jesus Christ. Get it together. You are working at a kid’s party. God! You mentally berated yourself. I should’ve fucked some random stranger while I was in Cincinnati then I wouldn’t be dealing with this.

You risked a glance at Richie. He wore a self-satisfied grin on his stupid fucking face. Your heat-flooded face clearly betrayed you.

“Shut up.” You hissed at him.

“I didn’t say shit.” He quipped.

“I can read minds.”

Richie blew a raspberry with his mouth, “Pfft.” He then waved an arm over his head, “Cousin! You made it!”

You focused every iota of brainpower and hand-eye coordination on the delicate, delicious cupcakes. You weren’t ignoring Carmy. You were just busy with your work. You were staying on your side of the street.

Carmy and Richie spoke briefly before an obvious - “Hey,” from Carmy was sent your way. You spared a quick glance over your shoulder.

“Hey.” Once your back was turned to them, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips together with a soft, harsh exhale through your nose. It shouldn’t feel this weird. You wanted so badly to turn around and engage him in conversation, ask about The Beef, check-in with the random bullshit of his life because you…cared…a little bit. You squashed the desire with a heeled boot. There was nothing in the Rulebook of Professionals that said you couldn’t engage in small talk. However, your own Rulebook of Not Getting Involved specifically stated ‘keep your distance’.

“Where you been? Haven’t seen you around.” Carmy said with a sniff.

Delilah, bless her heart, unintentionally saved you. She said your name in that chipper, bright tone of hers and walked to you with quick, determined strides.

“I need a favor.” She said.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Our box of gluten free cupcakes – well – they’re currently all over the driveway.” Delilah cringed. “I was hoping you could go inside and whip another batch? Normally, I’d have Stacy do it – but she was stung by a bee and so Katherine and Ryan are rushing her to the emergency room.”

“Oh shit!” Richie brought a fist to his mouth, “Is she allergic?”

Delilah sighed with relief, sparing a quick appraising glance at Richie. “No, thankfully. But it stung her eye.”

“Gnarly.” Richie blanched.

You pulled your gloves off your hands and tossed them in the small trash bin by the table. “No problem.”

“The recipe is inside in the—”

“--Pink binder.”

“Pink binder. Yes! Exactly.” Delilah looked immensely relieved. “I’ll finish up out here. I already spoke to Tiffany, and she said it was OK if we used her kitchen.”

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

You measured out the gluten-free flour into a glass measuring cup. You peered at the recipe to ensure you hadn’t misremembered the digits. It was quieter inside. Some of the children and their parents started to arrive and you could see Eva, Richie’s daughter, running around with an iridescent birthday hat. You watched Richie chase after his daughter and cackle boisterously. You smirked to yourself and rolled your eyes. While working, you wore the ‘Sweet Sensations’ pastel pink baseball cap backward to keep your hair out of your face and food.

Carmy leaned against the doorframe in the kitchen and the sight of him nearly startled you. Your heart did a funny, excited leap.

“Isn’t there a rule about creeping up on people when they’re in kitchens?” You said with feigned annoyance.

“I – I uh didn’t creep.” He stepped into the kitchen proper and looked over your spread-out supplies and ingredients. “How’s it going?”

“I don’t need a sous Chef it that’s what you’re asking.” You said while hand whisking the batter. If being cold and distant didn’t work to send him away, then maybe you could try being more of a bitch. You assumed it had a fifty-fifty chance of working.

He gestured lazily with one hand at the air between your bodies, “I t-t-thought we moved past this.”

“There’s nothing to move past, Carmy. We’re good.”

“We’re good?”

“Yeah.” You drank in the sight of him in stolen, quick glances, and felt your chest constrict each time. Your hands faintly trembled while holding the large, metal mixing bowl aloft and sectioning the batter into the small cupcake tins.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You scraped the last of the batter with the rubber spatula and held the bowl aloft to shield yourself so Carmy couldn’t see your face. You wanted to talk to him. That was the problem. You wanted to vent to someone who actually would understand. Carmy owned a restaurant. He knew intimately about the stress and heartache of trying to make something good and worthwhile. You wanted to bitch about Tim and his workers who were dragging their feet about the hot water sink. You wanted to talk about your staffing issues and desperation to find people who actually loved the work. You wanted to tell him about your adventures in Cincinnati, and DC, and New York, and the wonderful pastries you ate and the amazing people you talked to.

The faint smell of smoke singed your nostrils and your blood turned to ice.

“FUCK!” You dropped the mixing bowl with a loud, metallic clang. It hit the edge of your baking tray and sent a splatter of cupcake batter into the air, hitting the ceiling and dropping in wet globs onto the countertop. You yanked the oven door open and coughed at the pluming exhale of fine, black smoke. You were vaguely aware that Carmy was beside you and you stared – dejected – at the burned cupcakes. Their puffy little tops were charred beyond recognition and looked like miniature Mount Dooms.

You snatched a kitchen towel from the counter because it was closest. You didn’t have time to get an oven mitten. You realized your mistake about a second later. Your fingertips flared with pain and the pan clattered noisily as you tossed it forcefully onto the stove. The kitchen towel, riddled with holes, laid on the ground near your feet. The fire alarm chirped – shrill and relentless.

“Fuck. Ow!” You rapidly shook your hand and brought your burning fingertips into your mouth. It didn’t help, of course, because your fingers burned with pain and the interior of your mouth was warm. Carmy slid behind you, his hand trailed against your lower back, and he flipped the faucet on.

“Here, come here.”

In a daze of pain and frustration, you thrust your burned fingers under the rush of cool water and your shoulders slumped. Carmy’s large hand scooped behind yours, his thumb pressed into your palm, and gently maneuvered your hand beneath the stream of water. You clenched your jaw. You fucked up cupcakes.

“You know, I went to fucking Stanford. I graduated in the top 3% of my class. Everyone and their fucking richer-than-God uncle wanted to hire me.” You babbled and swallowing back the painful, sharp stab of disappointment and embarrassment. “But I can’t bake a single fucking tray of fucking cupcakes without setting off the fire alarm.”

“Shit happens.” Carmy said calmly, still carefully holding your hand, as water flowed through your fingers and pooled around his thumb in the soft well of your palm.

“Yeah, right.” You murmured derisively.

“The night I won Food & Wine’s Best New Chef; I started a fryer fire. I nearly burned the place down.” He admitted softly. You peered at him out of the corner of your eye. He lifted his gaze from the sink, from your hands, and looked at you. His eyes were honest and sincere.

“I remember thinking that if I don’t do anything…then this place would go down and all my anxiety with it.”

You inhaled sharply and your fingers twitched in his hand.

“Shit…” You whispered. It was another layer to the Carmy-cake that you absolutely didn’t want to discover and devour. Why couldn’t he just be a simple, arrogant egomaniac like the rest of the chefs you knew? It would make everything so much easier.  

Carmy weakly chuckled, “Yeah, shit.” He cleared his throat, eyes on the sink again, and you could feel the pad of his calloused thumb sliding up your palm. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his profile. His large, handsome nose. His long eyelashes framing his sky-blue eyes. The way his hair curled around his ears. The moles on his fair skin. His thumb reached your middle finger and you let him move it with the light pressure of his fingers pressing into your knuckles.

“How’s it feel?” He asked.

“I’m considering amputation.” You joked with a brief smile.

His lips quirked in a lop-sided smile. His eyes fluttered to yours again. You were suddenly aware of your shoulder pressed into Carmy’s warm chest. His body crowded around yours, solid and secure, and the sound of screaming children outside deafened to a low roar. He blinked languidly and you watched awe-struck as his gaze dropped to your mouth. An intense, tingling sensation spread from the center of your chest and melted across your skin like hot butter.

You quickly pulled your hand from the water and wiped the water droplets off on your apron. You cleared your throat and hurriedly started to clean up the mess left behind by the knocked-over cupcake pan of wet ingredients.

“You should go celebrate.” You said offhandedly, your pulse erratic in your jaw, and your ears burning with heat. The sponge gushed with soapy water as you cleaned the countertop in wide, circular motions. You could feel Carmy’s gaze burning into the back of your head. Carmy should be out in the yard with Richie throwing glowsticks at children or whatever. Besides, you didn’t want Richie giving you shit and saying something like ‘Hey, yo! Were you fucking my cousin in my ex-wife’s house? That’s a fucking power move dude.’

He wordlessly grabbed the pan out at the sink and used a fork to pluck the failed cupcakes out of their tin and into the trash.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.” He said as the fork tines scraped against metal, “I’m good here.”

You wrinkled your nose. “You’re not getting paid to do this, you know.”

His eyes flicked up toward you, “I know.”

“Then…” Your tongue swiped across your lower lip, “Why stay?”

He shrugged and his eyes dropped to the pan, “I like being in the kitchen.”

You shook your head and bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you wanted to probe for more information, but that would break the rule of Not Getting Involved. You scrubbed the countertop clean of sticky cake batter with a furrowed, determined brow. You avoided looking at Carmy even after he finished cleaning out the wrecked pan and started wiping batter from the floor. Together, you fell into a strangely comfortable silence of monotonous work.

“You gonna try to make it again?” Carmy asked while drying his hands and jutting his chin toward the open pink recipe binder.

“I’d rather be fucked by the standing mixer.” You replied nonchalantly and Carmy laughed. It was a warm, fleeting sound. Your eyes widened and soap bubbles squeezed through your fingers. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, but you could see his faint smile lines and light flooding his eyes.

“That’s a vicious mental image.” He said, rubbing his lips together, and pressing down his smile. You caught yourself biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning. You turned your face away and began unlacing your apron.

“Yeah, well, I just speak from the heart, you know?” You balled the apron between your fists, “I gotta talk to Delilah. Um...thanks for helping me clean up.”

Carmy lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, “Yeah, it’s no problem.”

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

After hearing about your kitchen catastrophe, Delilah asked you to drive to Sweet Sensations and pick up their on-hand gluten-free cupcakes. However, their frosting was caramel and not vanilla, and consequently Delilah gave Tiffany a discount on her order for the inconvenience. You had to admit you were impressed by Delilah’s efficiency and cleverness. She rolled with every punch that was thrown her way.

Once the cupcakes were delivered, you and Delilah left the boisterous party. You sank into the passenger seat with your feet up on the dashboard with a loud, tired sigh. You didn’t have time to say farewell to Richie or Carmy, but you doubted they’d take it personally. You were working. It wasn’t a social visit.

“You did great today.” Delilah said.

“I nearly burned down the client’s house.” You said tongue-in-cheek.

“Crazier things have happened.” She said sympathetically, “Last week, Ryan accidentally drove the van over a client’s sprinkler system, and it caused a minor flood.”

You laughed quietly. “Yikes.”

“That’s just this business,” She said with a smile, “You can have two wedding cakes prepared, one for the client, another for back-up, and then suddenly your power goes out and your calling every 7-11 to see how much ice they have.”

“Sounds like chaos.”

“It is.”

You sidelong squinted at her, “Everything in your tone implies you love it.”

Delilah favored you with another bright smile, “Oh, that’s because I do.”

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

You sketched another idea in your notebook while watching The Great British Bake-Off then reached out to the remote and clicked pause. You pressed your lips together.

“Fucking…cupcakes…”

You tossed the blanket off your lap and grabbed your keys. You weren’t going to be outdone by fucking cupcakes.

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

Your phone was dusted with flour as you scrolled through a recipe. Your first batch was horrendous. You must’ve measured the flour to baking soda ratio incorrectly because they came out hard and inedible. The second batch was too dry. Whatever. Practice makes perfect and who cared if it was after 9PM? You were confident in this third batch. You slid them into the oven, double-checked the temperature and time, before pulling the oven mittens off your hands.

A text from your mom came through on your screen: ‘But why are you baking there and not at home?’ She included an emoji of a face with a question mark floating above their head.

You replied with one hand while shrugging on your zip-up sweater, ‘I need to know how these ovens function. They’re different than the ones at home and I need to be familiar with my own space.’

You pushed your front door closed and sat on the concrete stoop. You pulled your crushed cigarette pack from your pocket and lit one while gazing across the street. The streetlamps washed the asphalt in hues of orange. You could faintly see the kitchen lights from the interior of the Beef glowing out into the empty sidewalk.

You noticed Carmy throw two black bags of trash out into the dumpster. You smiled around the filter of your cigarette and looked back down at your phone. You had no reason to talk to him or interrupt his workflow. You were going to stay on your side of the street. You belonged here, frantically making cupcakes to prove a point in sweatpants and an overly large Sanford red t-shirt. You scrolled through and read an article about a French pastry called a ‘Mille-feuille’. It sounded cool. You doubted your own skill set could succeed in making one of those but that didn’t mean you couldn’t serve them.

Your eyes instinctively caught movement above your brow. Your heart stuttered. Carmy was halfway across the street and walking toward you. What could he possibly want?

“Need to bum a smoke? Or a light?” You asked loudly and wiggled your pack above your head when he was close enough to hear you. “Or are you here to tell me I should focus on – I don’t know – fancy steaks instead of pastries?”

“Smoke.” He said, “Richie and Tina already left and they’re the only other smokers.”

You clicked your tongue and held out your cigarette out to him. “You’re lucky I’m a generous soul.”

“Mhm.” He nodded while inhaling, the tiny ember faintly illuminated his face, and reflected in the dark pupils of his eyes. “Can I chill here?”

“Sure.”

You were going to stay on the side of your street, but you had no rules about Carmy coming over to your side. It was uncharted waters. You could tell him to fuck off and leave, you supposed, but you selfishly didn’t want to. His shoulder rested against yours in the small space.

The moon shone in pale light above the skyline. It was the witching hour. A time for secrets and shared smoke-breaks with carcinogenic smiles. Carmy exhaled smoke through his nose and passed the cigarette back to you. Your fingertips touched. Your eyes met. And you knew you were going to break a few rules tonight.

“Your hair is covered in flour.” He brushed his hand along the top of your head, flour scattered like snowflakes between you, and he rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. His mouth curved to a slight smile and his eyes gleamed with humor.

“When the bag opened it went—Poof!” You explained.

You flicked the building ash off the top of the cigarette and watched it drift across the sidewalk in flecks of gray and white. You didn’t imagine that moment in the kitchen. Carmy wanted to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him, too, but that was beside the point. You took another slow drag and licked your lips before the smoke left your lungs. You glanced furtively at Carmy. He seemed lost in thought with his wrists resting on his knees and hands limp.

“Do you want to fuck again?” You asked candidly.

Carmy looked at you. His jaw went slack, and his forehead creased. “S-s-seriously?”

Rejection was a scorpion sting on your heart. You snubbed the cigarette out on the concrete below you. You wanted to put your hood up and storm off. You should’ve kept your big, dumb mouth shut. You could’ve had a nice little smoke break, kept it professional, but now you revealed your secret, desperate truth and you couldn’t un-ask the question.  

“I’ll take that as a no. Forget it.” You spat and quickly covered your hurt with deflection. Before you got up, or turned away, Carmy grabbed your chin between his fingers. It wasn’t a bruising grip, but it was strong and firm.

He held you in place and his knees touched yours when he shifted in closer. The shadowed walls and rumbling sounds of Chicago melted away like ice cream during a summertime heatwave. He leaned in and his nose bumped into yours. You shuddered, every nerve-ending coming to life, as you opened your mouth beneath his. Your heart fluttered at the soft press of his mouth. His tongue slowly slid into your mouth, and he hungrily drank in the soft, quiet moans that slipped free from your throat. Your palms slid along his chest and curled around his shoulders. You liked the discreet solidness of Carmy’s shoulders and arms.

“Stop – please stop putting words in my mouth. I hate that shit.” He muttered against your mouth in a huff of warm air.

“Noted.” You whispered before chasing his mouth with yours. You drew his lower lip between your teeth and smiled faintly at his sharp intake of breath. The intoxicating power-trip of making this capable, confident man whimper into your mouth made you dizzy. Carmy’s arm encircled your waist, pulling and drawing you impossibly closer. He smelled like fucking giardiniera and sweat and cigarette smoke. You wanted to drown in it. His tongue flicked across your upper lip, kissing you with a slow, torturous sweetness that made your core throb.

“In the kitchen,” He said, between one kiss and the next, “We say ‘heard’ when we want to communicate understanding.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Yeah, fuck off. I’m not doing that.” You said, keeping your tone light and playful.

Carmy’s lips smiled against yours, his hand left your chin and slid across your neck in a tantalizing, teasing touch before he cupped the nape of your neck. Your fingertips ghosted across the hollow dip of his throat, and you pushed one hand through the neck hole of his t-shirt to touch the warm, soft skin of his collarbones. His golden chain faintly scraped against the pads of your fingers. Any lingering trepidation about breaking your own rules dissolved when Carmy stammered your name. A pulse of blood rushed between your thighs.

“You’re so needy for me.” You teased, letting your head drift to the side as Carmy’s mouth skirted across your jaw and kissed your flushed skin. You wondered if he’d give you another hickey on your neck. You wouldn’t mind it…as long as you could give him a matching one. You doubted he had the time for girlfriends, but Richie’s joking words lingered in the back of your mind. Why would he assume you and Carmy were sleeping together if Carmy didn’t already have a reputation?

“I’m needy?” He taunted while pushing his hand beneath your large shirt. His thumbnail scraped across the underside of your breast, and you hissed, your back arching toward him. “Hm?” Your mind went blank.

A cheerful, and repetitive ringtone blared out of your pocket. Carmy pulled away from you as if he’d been struck by lightning. You pulled your phone out of your pocket with an annoyed, grumpy huff and pressed ‘Stop’ on the timer screen. You couldn’t believe you were getting cockblocked by cupcakes. Fucking cupcakes!

You got to your feet and offered a hand to Carmy, “You comin’ inside or what?” Despite your casual tone, you mentally cringed at the fear of rejection breathing coldly down your neck. He kissed you, but that didn’t mean he wanted to continue. Anyone could change their mind at any second and you wouldn’t hold it against him. You’d just nurse the bruised ego over a drink later.

You noticed him glance at your four bandaged fingers (the middle three and your thumb), before gingerly taking your hand and standing. The sense of relief was swift and dizzying. You rewarded him with a tumultuous smile.

“You’re welcome to try the cupcakes once they cool.” You said before pulling the glass door open and locking it behind you. You didn’t bother with a tour. You made a direct line to the kitchen, slipped oven mitts on both hands, and pulled the cupcakes from the oven with hurried purpose. You flipped the switch to turn the oven off. No reason to burn the place while you were getting dicked down. As you tugged the mittens off your hands, you glanced back at Carmy, who was looking at your kitchen with open admiration and awe.

“You really pulled out all the stops.” He said in quiet reverence. “It’s beautiful.” And you could tell from his tone that he wasn’t fucking with you. It was genuine. Your heartbeat quickened and you wanted to curse him for making a simple compliment illicit such a response beneath your skin. Two weeks ago, if Carmy had been in your kitchen, you would’ve dragged him out by the back of the shirt and told him to stop spying on you.

You weren’t going to bother for modesty. You weren’t modest or humble when it came to this project.

“It is, isn’t it?” You replied smugly. Carmy finally drew his eyes away from the equipment and shook his head in disbelief. You scooped a spoon into your vanilla buttercream frosting and tried an experimental lick. Carmy was watching you. You pointedly sucked the spoon clean with heavily lidded eyes and a small smirk. You noticed his eyes narrow and how he shifted his weight. Interesting. You released the spoon from your mouth with a soft ‘pop’ and smiled.

You brightened with an idea. “Hey, will you try this?”

He closed the short distance between you, “You want my professional opinion?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” You shrugged. A knot of nervousness twisted inside your stomach. You watched him bring the spoon to his mouth and slowly pull it from his lips, a bit of frosting catching on the corner of his mouth. Your scalp prickled with awareness. It took every ounce of your self-control not to lick the leftover frosting off his mouth. He pressed his lips together, eyes cast heavenward, the nodded. Your breath snagged in your throat when he finally gave his answer.

“Too much vanilla extract.” He said. “Consistency is good, though. A-and I can tell you added lemon zest which brightens it.”

“M’kay, that’s enough America’s Top Chef or whatever.” You teased, grabbing the front of his shirt, and dragging him forward.

“You asked m-mprh.” You sealed your mouth over his. The spoon clattered onto the countertop and Carmy’s hands cradled your face. You could taste the frosting on his tongue, and it tasted so much better than when you licked it off the spoon. You walked backward, clinging to him, guiding him toward your office. Kissing Carmy was a bit like dancing. You had to let him lead from time to time and allow yourself to be pulled along by the pure, raw sensations. You were aware of his hands, roaming, squeezing, and grabbing you, and his mouth – sweet-laced with lingering icing – engaged in a playful, give and take of nibbling bites and breathless moans.

Your ass hit the edge of your wooden desk and you broke the kiss to tug your shirt over your head. Carmy’s hands covered your breasts, kneading them, and you thanked the preemptive laziness that made you forgo a bra this evening. His warm, wet mouth traveled down the column of your throat. You whined a little and squirmed. You wanted more than this. You grabbed Carmy’s wrist and tugged his hand, bringing it between your legs.

“Like I said…” He rasped, breath hot against your neck, “Needy.”

“Carmy…” Did you sound a little desperate? Maybe. Your skin flushed with heated desire and echoes of recollection of how he made you feel the first time. His mouth left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your chest and to your stomach. His hands caught the waistband of your sweatpants and he knelt on the carpeted floor before you. You blinked, as if a stunned daze, and held onto the edge of your desk as Carmy pulled your sweatpants and underwear off of you. You swallowed, eyes-wide, at the stark difference of your naked body before him. You clamped your thighs together and Carmy gently held the back of your knees.

His face looked quizzically up at you.

“You gotta take off your clothes too.” You shrugged, “It’s only fair.”

“I was plannin’ on it.” He gave you that slight, almost boyish smile again. He leaned back on his haunches and peeled the t-shirt off himself. Not confined to a dark car backseat, you can see every line of him, every muscle, his strong shoulders, and dip of his clavicle. His golden chain glinted softly in the warm, intimate light of your desk lamp. His hair mussed around his face from your fingers constantly running through it. His chest heaved softly with labored, quiet breath and you realized you were going to think of this – Carmy kneeling on the ground before you – every single time you walked in this room.

His rough hands caressed up the length of your legs, along your thighs, and you slowly parted for him. He dropped a singular soft kiss to your inner thigh and your body tensed. But it wasn’t anticipation. His tongue flicked across your swollen clit, and you gasped and froze. You couldn’t let him go down on you. You’d be at his mercy, within his grasp and control, his selfless actions bringing you to the peak without any ‘reward’ for him. Yes, yes, you knew it was fucked up to think of sex as transactional and as a powerplay – but you’d unpack that in therapy later.

“Wait.” You tugged gently on the back of his head, and he looked up at you from between your thighs. “I don’t…can we…not do that?”

“Yeah, yeah – yeah – of course.” He stood up, and your throat tightened at the absolute tenderness in his gaze. His hands came to rest on your waist, thumbs moving in slow, soothing back-and-forth touch across your warm skin. “You okay?”

“I’m good. It’s just not something I’m comfortable with right now.” You blinked rapidly in surprise of your own blunt honesty.

“Okay.” One of Carmy’s hands slipped between your legs and you gripped his shoulders tightly, your body trembling in anticipation. “This okay?” He asked softly.

You leaned back into your desk and spread your knees for him. You sighed happily with a slow nod, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. This was familiar. This was good. Through lidded eyes, you reached for the waistband of Carmy’s pants and palmed his cock while he touched you. His fingers were quick, deft, drawing moans and whimpers from your mouth with practiced ease. Like he memorized what you liked last time and applied it to this time. His mouth found yours again and you pulled down the zipper of his pants while his thumb drew tight, firm circles against your clit. Your fingers stumbled and you hiccupped a sharp, surprised gasp.

“Yeah?” He murmured against your lips before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

“Yeah.” You jolted, hips canting into his hand, as you raked your nails down his chest. You pressed your face into his, nose squished against his cheek, and panted until each breath was a moan. You trembled and your orgasm hit you with syrupy sweetness, slow and unfurling, pulling a guttural, embarrassingly loud cry from your lips. You dropped backward onto your desk, your spine hitting an open notebook, and released a satisfied sigh. You looked down and saw Carmy pulling his cock free from his boxers. Your body hummed with pleasure and delight.

“I have condoms in my bag.” You said, pointing to your backpack hanging on the wall. “Front pocket.”

“Not because I expected this to happen.” You clarified quickly, “It’s just good to have things on hand. There’s Advil in there, too. Because I’m prepared for anything.”

“You’re a boy scout.” Carmy chuckled softly and you tried to not think about how the sound of it made your body fizzle like being dropped into a glass of champagne.

“Exactly!” You gave him a mock salute.

He returned to his place between your legs, and you pushed the notebook out and away from underneath you. It clattered to the floor and spilled open with pages of notes. He peered up at you through his sweaty, curled hair and you bit your lip and smiled. You wrapped your legs loosely around his hips and dragged your hands across his muscled chest in admiration.

You were rewarded with the blissful sight of Carmy’s eyes rolling back into his head as he slid into you. Your eyes shuttered closed and the world whited-out into noise and feeling. Your back arched and Carmy leaned over you, his lips covered the side of your neck, and your hips bucked in response to his teeth meeting your skin.

“Are you—fuck, fuck, fuck” You lost coherent thought for a moment as Carmy thrust into you in earnest. “—are you giving me another hickey?” You gasped, fingers tangling into his hair. “You ass-asshole.”

“You want it somewhere else?” The tip of his nose grazed the soft spot of skin behind your ear.

“Please.”

He dragged his mouth to your collarbone and your hardened nipples rubbed against his damp, sweaty chest. You clung to the back of Carmy’s head as his tongue laved over the spot just below your collarbone and dangerously close to your heart. He drew the delicate, pliant skin between his teeth and sucked hard, making you see stars, and your thighs clenched around his hips. The desk groaned beneath your combined weight and a cup of pens clattered to the floor.

“You feel so good,” He breathed, “better than I remember.” Your walls fluttered around him at the compliment and Carmy looked up from your chest, meeting your eyes, “I felt that.”

“Shut up.” You lightly slapped his shoulder and turned your face away.

“So, you don’t want me to tell – to tell you about how amazing – fuck – how amazing you feel?” He said, adjusting his position so he wasn’t leaning over you, and was standing instead. He drew your thighs away from his hips and rested them on his chest, so your ankles were at his shoulders. You groaned at the sudden change in depth and tightness and your hands splayed across the polished wood.

“You’re drenched.” He panted, his face red, “and taking me so well. God – you’re incredible.” You couldn’t control it. Your body responded to his words, core tightening, your walls pulsing around him at the praise. You slipped your hand between your thighs, finding your slick and swollen clit, and your fingertip occasionally brushed against his shaft while you touched yourself in quick, needy motions.

“Fuck. F-fuck. That’s so hot.” Carmy moaned. He followed your lead, responding to the nonverbal cues of your body, and the very-verbal cues of your mouth repeatedly gasping his name. It was as if someone disconnected your brain and your mouth. You were only able to say one thing and it was ‘Carmy’ followed by ‘Yes’. Your body coiled and goosebumps erupted across your skin. Your muscled tensed, your walls spasmed around Carmy’s cock, and sent an avalanche of pleasure in a quaking release.

Carmy released a strangled noise, his thrust erratic and shaking the desk beneath you, and you knew—you knew based on the bright pink color of his cheeks and neck and the deep furrow to his brow that he was about to finish. He slammed into you in one powerful, final thrust, burying himself as deep as he could go, and cursed loudly and a sheen of perspiration glistened off his body.

He collapsed on top of you and caught his weight with his elbows. His face rested in the crook of your neck and his heavy, labored breath blew across your sweaty skin. You closed your eyes, relaxed and secure under the weight of him, and felt him gradually grow soft inside of you. You languidly lifted a hand and carded your fingers through his long hair. You laid like this, completely devoid of conversation or coherent thought, for several minutes with the sweat rapidly cooling off your bodies. Carmy’s thudding heartbeat reverberated against your skin.

Carmy wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away from his head, he held your hand in the air, and your fingertips naturally curled forward. The bandages were surprisingly intact given all the sweat and bodily fluids. Though, now that you were thinking about it, the skin beneath the bandage started to throb with pain. His thumb stroked your inner wrist.

“How’s the burn?”

You pulled your hand away and wiped the sweat from your forehead. “Manageable.” You wiggled underneath him, aware of the intimacy of the moment, and internally panicking. Your plan to be Professional with a capital ‘P’ might be totally fucked, but you still had to retain some distance. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t dating. Hell, you didn’t even know if you were exclusively sleeping with each other or if this would happen a third time.

“Stop squishing me.”

He smiled into the hollow of your throat and climbed off you. You snatched your t-shirt off the ground and pulled it over your head, grateful for how it covered your body, and reached just above your knee. You ran both hands through hair and finger-combed through the sex-snarls while Carmy pulled up his pants.

You held up a finger, “I don’t want to do the weird after sex talk.”

“I’m not familiar.” He said whilst pulling his white t-shirt over his head. You pursed your lips. Someone shouldn’t look sexy while getting dressed but somehow Carmy managed it. Ridiculous.

“You know, when people have sex and then they act weird, and awkward, and can’t make eye contact.” You said, folding your arms over your chest, and avoiding eye contact. Your desk was foggy with body heat, sweat, and the edge glistened from where your bodies were joined. You might have to buy a new desk. How were you ever going to get work done in here now?

“Okay.”

“Great!” You forced cheerfulness into your voice. “My offer still stands about the cupcakes. Feel free to grab one on your way out.” You said before stepping into your sweatpants and pulling them over your hips with a satisfied smile at the ache in your abdomen.

Carmy muttered your name.

“Is this…” He rubbed his nostril with his knuckles, “I mean – are we going to keep doing this?” He asked, his blue eyes imploring, and your heart flinched. You looked away and at the calendar on the wall. June, June, June. All your plans, all your projects, and ambitions. Everything you were so hungry for. You didn’t have time for anything serious and you weren’t equipped for serious relationships. Casual and random suited your lifestyle fine, thank you. You were sure Carmen could understand that. You were career people.

“This is the after sex talk I was hoping to avoid.” You said with a weak, flat laugh.

Carmy was quiet. You suspected – and hoped - he would drop the topic and walk away.

“You can’t just avoid things because they’re uncomfortable.” He said and stepped into your field of vision, and you were forced to face him – face this. You sighed and nodded with your lips pressed in a firm, hard line.

“I don’t have the time or energy for a relationship.” You admitted.

“Neither do I.”

You inhaled deeply. You knew what you had to do—the only proper, professional choice. It was time to rip off the band-aid. You needed distance, professionalism, and mutual respect. You couldn’t have that if you were crawling into his lap and letting him fuck you so hard you forgot your own name. And it wasn’t just the sex. It was everything else. It was looking for him in a crowded room, it was holding hands through a panic attack, it was sharing cigarettes and bashful smiles. All of it was distraction. All of it was too dangerous for you like standing close to an open flame.

“Normally in a situation like this, I’d suggest we become fuck buddies and blow off steam together.” You began, “However, I can’t – I can’t commit to that either. I need to…I need…”

You licked your lips with your heart pounding in your ear.

“You need to focus on your own shit.” Carmy guessed. You nodded, thankful for his understanding, and his empathy.

“Yeah.” Your lips quirked up in a weak, rueful smile. “I assume you’re in a similar situation.”

“No, no, yeah, yeah. I am.” He nodded, “Obviously. The whole restaurant and my brother and everything…yeah.” He rubbed his forehead with his hand. You had the wild, stupid desire to brush the hair out of his face and press a kiss to his nose. (Which is EXACTLY the reason why you needed to stop sleeping with him starting yesterday). You were getting too close, too eager, and vulnerable with him. It blurred too many lines.

You rocked back and forth on your heels and tried for humor, “So, we can settle for friends who have seen each other naked?”

Carmy exhaled shortly and harshly through his nose. It was almost a laugh.

“Alright.”

“Cool.” You swallowed, hoping for an exit sign on this conversation before you asked him to come over because your resolve was dissolving faster than sand underwater at the sight of him. “Get home safe, okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, you too.”

Carmy left the room, and a lingering sense of longing permeated the air with you as its source. You plunged your face into your hands and sighed heavily. You could do this. You couldn’t afford distractions, or more responsibilities, or messy feelings and neither could he.

“Grow up and get over it, right grandpa?” You muttered to yourself, repeating his most commonly used phrase whenever something went wrong.

< Part Five >

[lucyswinter]

masterlist!

(i love this gif because it looks like roo is saying tampon hehe)

smut :❤️‍🔥

fluff : 💗

angst : 💔

unfinished : ❤️‍🩹

*all requests that i receive that i WILL do are confirmed below with the “❤️‍🩹” emoji. if you want to check if im working on your request, look for that!*

jonathan crane

onions tears and caring kisses (💗)

jonathan crane x sick!reader (💗)

jonathan crane baddie gf hcs (💗)

untitled jonathan crane oneshot (❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥)

cillian murphy

ocean blue eyes (💗)

cilly comforting you after a nightmare (💗)

spencer reid

spencer reid crush hcs (💗)

snow day (💗)

aaron hotchner

hotch dating hcs (💗)

untitled hotch oneshot (❤️‍🩹)

hotch dating hcs pt 2 (💗)

neil lewis

neil lewis with a girlfriend who likes horror movies (💗)

the sleepover (❤️‍🩹)

robert fischer

untitled robert fischer oneshot (❤️‍🩹)

rust cohle

untitled rust cohle oneshot (❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥)

ian duncan

ian duncan dating hcs (💗)

[teapartyprincess4two]

☆ RULES ☆

RULES:

Bullying or harassment of any kind is not welcomed or allowed! This is a safe space for any and everyone! Be mindful of your requests, comments, and messages. Stay kind bbys 🫶🏻

This blog contains some 18+ stories and content. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

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WHO I WRITE FOR:

🐇~ Everything I write is a work of FICTION. Some of my stories are based/ inspired by true life events, but nothing I write is real. Keep that in mind!

☆ Sturniolo Triplets

Nicolas Sturniolo x Platonic!Fem!Reader

Nicolas Sturniolo x Romantic!Male!Reader

☆ Johnnie Guilbert

☆ Jake Webber

☆ Lip Gallagher (Shameless)

☆ 5 Seconds of Summer

all members!

☆ Norman Reedus

Daryl Dixon, Murphy MacManus, Diego, Van

REQUESTS:

💌~ Feel free to message me or send in a question or request! I will do my best to write as many of them as possible!! Please read below before requesting:

Requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good idea

I will write fluff, smut, sad, angst, Latina reader, Platonic!Nick x Platonic!Fem!Reader, & Male!reader x Nick

I won’t write incest, age regression, self harm, step siblings, romantic Nick x Romantic!Fem!reader, or Nick smut

Please be patient 🖤

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✨~ Send in an anon message with a request or just to talk! And let me know if you’d like to be known under a nickname or an emoji!

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TAGLIST:

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if you only want to be tagged in certain fanfic related posts, feel free to specify!

[honeybrowne]

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 . 𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒 . 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 . 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊

extra curricular activities (professor!hotch x female reader)

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓

this blog is not suitable for minors. if you are under the age of 18, please respect my request to not follow/interact.

i do not give permission to translate, edit, repost, or copy any of my work.

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

characters & fandoms: cillian murphy, criminal minds (aaron hotchner), harry styles, horizon zero dawn, the last of us (joel miller), law & order svu + oc, the mandalorian, narcos (javier peña), peaky blinders (thomas shelby), pedro pascal, red dead redemption 2 (arthur morgan), 911 + 911 lone star

fic support banners are by @cafekitsune

blog header

emoji anons: 🦢, 🍄

[mystka]

hii, can i join the game too please x

initials s.k and emoji is 🥰

thank you xx

san (ateez) cillian murphy (actor)

[elenajones23]

So basically what A.L.I.E tried to do for all the human race all these years ago is whT eventually happened?? Which means after S3 the whole show was pointless, because A.L.I.E offered all of the human race to live out the rest of their lives in peace forever by uploading their minds/souls to mind drive and that’s eventually happened so literally the show after S3 is just bullshit.

At least if took up A.L.I.E’s offer they ALL would have been together forever for real. Instead we got this bullshit, where the rest of rev human race gets to live a happy peaceful life forever while our people/our favorites get live their lives to old age then they disappear forever and they were all made sterile so there can’t be anymore of them?

So the message here is so humans don’t deserve a happy peaceful forever just a temporary one and then they’re forgotten forever.

The ones who got reward are literally all the side/secondary/background characters NONE of the main characters got that reward after everything they did. Yeah this such “great” show

So the whole “may we met again” is complete BULLSHIT I guess

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 11)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

A few days later…

A few days later, and following an array of arguments between Danielle and Cillian, Danielle decided to investigate matters further after her husband had gone to bed early that day. After all, she couldn't trust anything he said anymore, especially when it concerned other women.

As quiet footsteps echoed across the cold wooden floors, Danielle tip-toed cautiously into Cillian's bedroom as, just recently, they decided to sleep separately. Despite being aware of the risk involved, her need for confirmation trumped her common sense.

Slowly, opening the door slightly, she peered into the dimly lit space. Her eyes darted quickly, trying to locate his cell phone on the nightstand beside the bed. Her senses heightened, anticipating danger.

As quietly as she could manage, she tiptoed toward the object of her search, which was plugged into a wall charger. She undid the latch on Cillian's phone case swiftly but silently. As she lifted the device from its perch, her heart thundered in her ears, nearly drowning out the faint ringing noise emanating from within.

Careful not to drop the expensive piece of technology, she slinked back to her room, closing the door behind her softly. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a few calming breaths, grateful to still be unnoticed. Opening her eyes again, she glanced at the clock - it was almost midnight.

She punched in his passcode, which was still the same, and then she went straight to his text-message folder. Scrolling past the ones from friends and acquaintances, she stopped abruptly at something that seemed odd, referring to a person simply by their initials, followed by a heart emoji.

Intrigued, she opened the conversation thread and, just as she did, her chin dropped.

The entirety of the text exchange revolved around explicit content that made her question whether she wanted to delve any deeper. In shock, she read on and also saw pictures as well as short videos attached, each showing several intimate moments.

One of the pictures showed a woman's intimate parts exposed to the camera, her nipple hardened and covered in ejaculate and another photo revealed what appeared to be a closeup of her husband's erection, ejaculating onto the woman's body.

In a very short video clip, she witnessed her husband penetrating the unknown woman vigorously, and the audio even captured their moans.

It was evident that they had performed multiple sexual acts together, in which he did not even bother to wear protection, suggesting carelessness and recklessness. Danielle felt physically sickened at the thought of such practices happening behind her back.

In his text messages to the female stranger, she discovered that not only were their exchanges filled with dirty talk, but he also told her that he missed her and wanted to see her again.

His last message, in particular, went as far as to invite this woman to his home on Tuesday afternoon, telling her that he really needed to talk to her, and Danielle wondered what this last message could possibly have been about.

It certainly suggested some level of premeditation for their secret encounters, which intensified her rage further. The texts indicated his desire to take things beyond mere sexual interactions and she worried that the time had come when he would leave her.

In the end though, she knew that there was nothing she could do about this now and thus she decided to return his phone

to him, making certain no trace remained of her snooping. Before placing the phone back, she scrolled through the threads again looking for any additional evidence, finding none. It wouldn't change how betrayed she felt or alleviate her wrath, but she found solace in knowing she had answers to questions she had feared asking.

Feeling tired, worn out both emotionally and psychologically, she climbed back into bed fully clothed and let the darkness envelop her like a cloak, knowing that she had to patiently wait until Tuesday to confront Cillian face-to-face and hopefully catch him in the act.  

Tuesday Afternoon…

It was late Tuesday afternoon when you arrived at Cillian's house after school and, unlike usual, he did not greet you with a kiss even though no one else was around.

"How are you feeling today?" Cillian eventually asked casually, knowing that you had been feeling slightly off, while attempting to break the awkward silence that had taken root since you arrived at his home. 

Your head dropped low, focusing intently on his feet, "Just tired, and worried", you replied quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"Worried? Why?" Cillian questioned softly while gesturing for you to come inside and have a seat.

"Well, you wanted to see me because you needed to talk and I have a feeling about where this might be going," you spoke honestly, still struggling to maintain eye contact. "Plus, lately, you've seemed quite distant, so just make it quick, okay?" you told him, knowing very well that he would be ending your affair soon due to his guilt-ridden conscience.

Feelings of resignation flooded through you as you acknowledged that it was futile to try fighting fate anymore.

"Alright," Cillian agreed, finally meeting your gaze. "I need to put an end to this," he admitted, clearing his throat nervously, anticipating your reaction. 

Your heart dropped, but you maintained composure, unwilling to succumb to tears.

"Okay, but can you tell me why now?" you asked, sadness creeping into your voice.

Cillian shifted uncomfortably, visibly troubled by what he was about to say. "Because things are getting out of hand, and I am losing control. I want you more than I thought I would. I don't wish to cause you harm Y/N, but I can't carry on with both you and my wife," he explained apologetically.

"I understand. This was always going to be short-lived anyways," you stated, masking your feelings. 

"You know, you are more mature than I gave you credit for" Cillian said appreciatively, surprised by your understanding.

As if sensing your vulnerability, he moved to comfort you by placing his arms around your shoulders.

Emotionally distraught, you allowed yourself to lean against him briefly, taking solace in his warmth before pulling back, attempting to hide your turmoil behind stoicism.  

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself as your world began to spin out of control. Inhaling deeply, you met his gaze defiantly.

"I am just being realistic. You are more than twice my age and as much as I will miss the sex, I too need to move on eventually, right?"

Your statement held a mix of sorrow and determination and Cillian understood how difficult it must be for you to accept this reality, seeing that he was the first man you've ever slept with.

"For what it's worth, I had the best sex I ever I had in those last three or four weeks with you," he confided with a slight smile, running his fingers lightly along your cheekbone, eliciting a quiet moan from you.

In turn, you brushed your lips across his tenderly before moving in closer and whispering near his ear, "how about one last time?" 

The intensity in your eyes hinted at something more profound than simple desire, stirring an unexpected wave of longing within him. Unable to bear the painful yearning any longer, Cillian acquiesced reluctantly. "One last time," he confirmed solemnly, knowing that despite everything, he couldn't resist temptation.

"Good, then take me to your bedroom

," you suggested confidently, your resolve matching his own. As you walked together, Cillian admired your boldness, finding himself aroused once again at the mere prospect of indulging in forbidden pleasures with you.

Once you reached his room, you 

quickly undressed, casting aside your clothes without shame. Your body gleamed in the dim light of the room, every curve tantalising.

Naked, you approached him, pressing your lips hungrily against his neck as you traced its outline with your tongue, sending waves of pleasure through him. As your hands explored his chest, Cillian could not help but return the favor, teasing your breasts with his mouth. Each touch heightened the hunger building within you both.

"Take off your clothes," you told him

firmly, urgency lacing your tone. Your words were like a commandment, striking him directly to his core. Relinquishing all restraint, Cillian obeyed instantly, swiftly shedding his clothing until he stood nude before you.

Reaching out to stroke his erection gently, you took note of his impressively large member and smiled coyly. Glancing back up at him, you saw a mixture of relief and pride illuminating his face as he watched you handle him so expertly.

"I will miss this beautiful thick cock of yours,” you murmured seductively, wrapping your fingers around his length and stroking it lovingly. His body stiffened at your caress, a groan escaping him involuntarily.

"That feels incredible," he rasped huskily, unable to contain his desire any longer. With a gentle nudge, you encouraged him onto the bed, positioning yourself straddling him, allowing your wetness to slicken his rigid shaft.

Grabbing hold of his firm balls, you looked into his eyes with a playful glint, smiling devilishly.

“Do you want me to ride you and fill me up with your cum one last time?” you whispered suggestively, giving him enough time to contemplate his response.

“Fuck yes," he answered immediately, fully surrendering to your lead.

With a small giggle, you lowered yourself onto his cock, impaling yourself tightly. Both of you moaned simultaneously, your bodies melting together in perfect syncopation.

"I love how tight your pussy feels around my cock," Cillian growled, thrusting forcefully upward as he picked up pace. "Let me hear you scream my name one last time babe!" he demanded, and you complied.

"Oh God! Cillian!" you cried out, arching your back as a wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Come on baby, come for me," he demanded, driving you even further toward climax with each powerful plunge.

"Yes! Yes! Oh fuck, I'm coming! Unghh!" you screamed loudly, throwing your head back as your orgasm consumed you completely, knowing very well that this was just one of many to come within the next hour or so. 

Every muscle in your body contracted, sending shockwaves throughout Cillian's loins.

"Damn, baby girl, you are amazing," he praised you breathlessly as, all of a sudden, the door swung open, startling both of you immensely.

"What...the fuck? Y/N?" you heard Danielle's familiar voice, filled with fury. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[ajoblotofjunk]

Me: I love Warren & Murphy’s relationship, how warm it is, how much they like each other.

Also me: Punch him in the face again, Warren, he deserves it.

[ask-the-stimmy-boys]

What’s a better emoji 🍆 or 🌽

J: “Dude, this is obviously far superior.”C: “I don’t even use these things but… why? Why are y’all like this?”

[misscarolineshelby]

The Last Semester – Part Six

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,156

Warning: Age Gap, Cliffhanger

Original Blog: @queenshelby  

Previous Parts:  Part One; Part Two; Part Three*; Part Four*; Part Five* 

*SMUT, NSFW

Back in Dublin

It was 9am on Friday morning that Cillian arrived at Dublin airport and his brother Patrick had kindly offered to pick him up.

‘How was the flight brother?’ Patrick asked, knowing that the weather had been terrible for the past few days now with heavy winds and rain.

‘Turbulent’ Cillian responded just as he was turning his mobile phone back on and texted you, telling you that he had arrived safely after you were worried about the weather warning.

A second later you responded, evidently having waited for his text message and Patrick couldn’t help himself but look over Cillian’s shoulder as he noticed the wide smile across his brother’s face.

‘Who is Y/N?’ Patrick then asked and Cillian put away his phone quickly.

‘None of your business’ Cillian chuckled.

‘She must be special if you send her an emoji’ Patrick laughed.

‘Fuck off’ Cillian said playfully, laughing as Patrick was teasing him about it.

‘So defensive. You must like her a lot’ Patrick went on to tease him.

‘Would you just stop’ Cillian chuckled and Patrick eventually gave up when they both got to Patrick’s car.

After Patrick had dropped Cillian off at his house, he asked whether he wanted to take the boys to the summer-fair on Sunday.

Patrick had children around the same age as Cillian’s two sons and had already asked a few other friends to join them.

‘John and Dwayne are coming too’ Patrick said, hoping that Cillian would agree to come along.

‘I need to talk to John and Enda about the play later this year’ Cillian responded as their two friends, John Conner and Enda Walsh, were two playwriters working together on a play with Cillian for the Christmas period.

‘Well, you text Enda then and we will all catch up at the pub after. He got back to Dublin yesterday I think’ Patrick said and Cillian agreed with his suggestion.

Back in London

Meanwhile in London, you finally spent some time at home which raised some questions with Emma.

‘I cannot believe that you honour us with your presence’ Emma joked and you couldn’t help but laugh about her comment.

‘Believe it or not, I am going to be home all weekend’ you responded with a smile just as you put your phone.

‘How come? Where is your mystery man?’ Emma asked.

‘Spending time with his children on the weekend’ you responded, immediately realising that you shouldn’t have volunteered this kind of information.

‘He’s got kids? Fuck’ Emma asked before making an observation. ‘This means he is older. Good for you. Older guys are generally more fun in the bedroom’ Emma said and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Yes, he is older’ you responded shyly, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

Luckily for you, she didn’t and quickly changed the topic, at least so she thought.

‘I really need to make a move on the older man who I am interest in. Please, if you have any suggestions, let me know’ Emma giggled and you couldn’t help but sigh nervously.

‘I think you should not pursue this, Emma. I am fairly sure he isn’t even single’ you said, knowing that she was referring to Cillian.

‘According to Wikipedia he is’ Emma said with determination.

‘Yes, and we all know how reliable Wikipedia is a as a source’ you laughed before trying to change the topic once again, asking Emma about the movies on Tuesday.

Emma, Jeremey and Thomas were going to the cinemas every Tuesday, which is when students could get cheap movie tickets. Usually, you didn’t go with them but the three of them had been trying to convince you for ages so you finally agreed.

‘Perhaps I should ask Cillian to come too’ Emma then grinned and you shook your head once again.

‘No, you should not Emma’ you laughed as, suddenly, your phone rang and you quickly picked it up ensuring that Emma wouldn’t see Cillian’s name coming up on the display.

Sunday Surprise

After having spent the day at the Dublin fair with his sons, their cousins and some friends, Cillian went to the local pub at 7pm to see Patrick and some of his friends.

His sons Hendrix and Charlie were being looked after by Patrick’s wife together with Patrick’s two children, allowing the brothers and their friends to catch up and talk over a beer or two.

‘So, what’s new Cilly?’ John asked as he handed Cillian one of the pints he had just brought over from the bar.

‘Not much really’ Cillian said but, just as he responded to John, Patrick gave him a nudge.

‘There is a woman in London which means that he is finally getting some’ Patrick said with a big grin on his face.

‘For fuck’s sake Paddy’ Cillian said, causing John and Enda to laugh.

‘Well, I am glad I gave you that packet of condoms then…for good luck you know’ John said with amusement before asking what the name of the mysterious woman was.

‘Y/N apparently’ Patrick responded, causing Cillian to roll his eyes at the fact that he was answering questions on his behalf.

‘Nice name’ John chuckled.

‘Nice name?’ Cillian laughed, somewhat surprised by John’s comment.

‘It’s my daughter’s name too. It’s nice. Although my ex-wife chose it, so there is that’ John laughed.

‘I don’t think we ever met your daughter’ Enda went on to say, changing the topic to help Cillian out.

‘Cillian would have met her’ John said.

‘No, I don’t think so’ Cillian said, relieved that Enda had changed the topic away from his love life.

‘Well, she told me a few weeks ago that she was enrolled into the UOL drama project run by you and Aidan Gillen’ John explained.

‘There is no one by the name Y/N Conner in the project’ Cillian said somewhat confused before taking another sip from his drink.

‘Well, my ex made the kids take her surname. So it’s actually Y/N YL/N’ John said and, just as he did, Cillian’s heart stopped a beat and he choked on his drink, coughing rigorously.

‘Are you alright man?’ Enda asked, knocking his palm against Cillian’s back.

‘Yes’ Cillian huffed, recovering slowly from his cough, the thoughts in his head running wild when he realised that you were John’s daughter.

‘So how is Y/N doing?’ John eventually asked when Cillian calmed down.

‘What do you mean?’ Cillian asked with his mind elsewhere.

‘In the drama project. How is she performing?’ John chuckled.

‘Yeah good. You know, I really need to get home, spend some more time with the boys before going back to London tomorrow’ Cillian quickly said before finishing up his beer.

Movie Night Surprise

Meanwhile in London, Emma made you and Jeremy watch yet another three episodes of Peaky Blinders, when you received a text message from Cillian at around 10 o’clock.

‘We need to talk. Can I call you now?’ was all it said.

[sherrybaby14]

Moral of the Story

Summary:  Steve’s girl likes to party all the time and he’s at his wit’s end.  Then he meets you.

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x female reader.

Warnings:  Alcohol, Smut, ANGST

Words:  5k

A/N:  This is for the wonderful @captain-rogers-beard​ challenge. Congrats Doll!  My prompt was “Party all the Time” by Eddie Murphy.

   The music was a bit louder than you would have liked, but at least the song was catchy.   You sipped on your drink as you watched the dance floor, your friend’s waving you over.  

   With a smirk you shook your head and lifted your drink, far too sober to dance.

   “I think they want you to join them?”  A voice boomed in your ear.

   You did a jump as you turned to see a gorgeous blonde next to you.  

   “I don’t want to spill my drink.”  You ran your hands down your now wet dress.

   “Oh Jeez, I’m so sorry ma’am.”  He reached for some cocktail napkins. “Let me buy you another.”

   “It’s okay.”  You began to pat your dress dry.  “It’s probably better on my clothes than down my throat.  I don’t drink often.”

   “Me either.”  He gave a warm smile.  

   “Then why are you in a nightclub?”  You turned to the bar, trying to block out the loud music and not have to yell so much. “Here to pick up women?”

   “A friend invited me.”  His gaze went to the dance floor.

   You followed it and saw he was looking at a dark haired man.  You couldn’t see his face because it was being covered by a gorgeous brunette.  She pulled away and you blinked a few times, she had to be a model, a perfect ten.  

   “I think your friend is going to get lucky.”  You turned back to see his jaw clench up.  

   “Yeah, it looks like it.”  He looked away, there was a pain in his eyes.  “If I can’t buy you a new drink how about a cup of coffee?”  

   “Oh, I don’t think they sell coffee here.”  You shrugged.

   He erupted in laughter and you glanced around, not noticing the punch line.  

   “There’s a diner a block away.”  He leaned against the bar.  “Open twenty four hours.  I know I’m a stranger, but I could get out of here and by the looks of it so could you.”  

   “I’m game.”  You put your glass on the bar and started walking to the door.  

   “I’m Steve by the way.”  He held out his hand.  

   “I know who you are.”  You smiled.  “I think the whole world knows who you are.”  

   A confused look spread across his face.  The brisk nighttime air made your arm get some goosebumps, but you let out a sigh of relief when the music died down.  

   “That’s not the reaction I get from most people who know who I am.”  Steve grabbed his chin.  “Maybe I should grow a beard again.”  

   “Would you rather I asked for an autograph and a selfie?”  You raised an eyebrow, then put the back of your hand to your forehead.  “Oh Captain my Captain?”

   “Alright, I get it.”  Steve laughed.  “So what’s your story?  I guess your the one whose the stranger here.”

   “It’s not like I know everything about you, just the headlines.”  You winked.  “Workaholic, I love my job, it keeps me busy.  In my free time I do the basics,  read, watch movies, attempt and fail at the newest workout craze.”  

   “Pilates man.”  Steve pulled the diner door open.  “It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

   “I fall in every yoga position.”  You followed Steve as he slid into a booth.  “Zumba was fun, but I’m lacking in rhythm.”  

   “You?”  Steve’s eyes went wide.  “You look like you would be a great dancer.”

   “I’m great at a lot of things.”  You flipped over your mug.  “But bad at more.”  

   “I’m really bad at board games.  I flipped the board last time I played Monopoly.”  Steve leaned back in the booth.  “But I am amazing at tic-tac-toe.”  

   “Oh yeah?”  You reached in your purse and pulled out a pen, drawing the lines on a napkin.  “Prove it?”

~~

“Even with all this coffee and stimulating conversation.”  You brought your hand to your mouth to stifle the yawn.  “Exhaustion is setting in.  I’ve got to get to bed.”

“How far do you live from here?”  Steve reached for his wallet.  “It’s almost 4 am.  Can I walk you home?”  

“Four am?”  You hadn’t checked your phone since you told your friends you were safe after vanishing, that was five hours ago.  

Sure enough the device read 3:56.  

“Damn.”  You grabbed a menu.  “Might as well order breakfast then.”  

Steve looked shocked, but then nodded in agreement, not pulling a menu. The server took notice and came over.  

“I’ll have a meat lovers skillet, side of country gravy, sub American cheese, eggs over easy, wheat toast?”  You but the menu back.  

“I’ll have the same.”  Steve leaned forward.

“Really?” The waitress was confused. “Not the usual?”

“I’m being adventurous tonight.”  Steve winked.  

“Okay.”  She walked away.

“I like the way you know what you want.”  Steve leaned back.  “Kind of no nonsense.  It’s refreshing.”  

“I wouldn’t say that.”  You laughed.  “Maybe when it comes to diner food at 4 am.  I’ve been eating my whole life after all.”  

“So why isn’t there anyone special in your life?”  Steve almost seemed fidgety.  

“There’s lots of special people in my life.”  You smiled.  “I’m very close with my parents, my siblings, have some great friends I’d call family, my coworkers are amazing too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  Steve’s eyes showed a strange wave of vulnerability.  

“No reason.”  You wished you had a better answer.  “I’ve dated plenty, had some serious partners, some not so serious.  I guess I’m picky? What about you?”

“The friend who invited me to the club tonight, it was the girl.”  Steve gave a pressed smile.  “We were very serious, she broke it off about two months ago.  Wanted to try being friends.  I agreed to give it a go.  I don’t see how it’s going to work.”  

The perfect 10 brunette.  Your heart started to ache for the man.  He was heartbroken.  It was all over his face, body language.  Everything clicked.  

“What a bitch.”  You brought your hand to your mouth and looked at him with wide eyes.  

He laughed and you relaxed.

“There you go, being honest and direct again.”  Steve put his elbows on the table.  “I don’t think people can be friends with exes.  It’s not in the cards.”  

“I’ve never tried.”  You were more of the it’s done it’s done type.  “My philosophy is look forward.  The future.  Thinking about the past, it’s a dangerous trap.”  

“I’m starting to think the same thing.”  Steve’s eyes lit up.  “She is a big party girl, I mean, she’s a model so sometimes its a networking thing.  But I never really fit into her life.”  

“Wait, were you guys like a tabloid couple?”  You tilted your head. “Can I read all about your breakup on instagram?”  

“No!” Steve rolled his eyes.  “That was part of the problem.  I think she wanted that.  Being with me could elevate her career and it made me feel used, so I wouldn’t allow public photos. There’s a few that leaked, but nothing confirming our relationship.”

“Wow, you celebrities are a different breed.”  It never once crossed your mind to post about who you were having coffee with.

“I am not a celebrity.”  Steve wagged a finger at you.  

“Oh I’m sorry.”  You brought your hand to your chest.  “Historical figure.”

Steve cracked up.  His laugh was infectious and you joined, chuckling away.  

“Without being too forward young lady,” Steve reached out and grabbed your hand, sparks shooting down your arm.  “Could I have your telephone number?”  

You knew he was bating you for a joke.  But you preferred the natural type.  

“Yes.”  You reached for your phone, breaking the hand touch.  “You can have my number.”

~~

Noon hit and you forced yourself out of bed, six hours of sleep was doable.  You began to make your mental checklist of projects for the day while you brushed your teeth.  

There was a giddy ness in the back of your mind over last night.  He was a cool guy and it was a fun time.  Your brain started to think about work.  You had to call your parents and check in, probably explain to your friends about where you went, you would leave out the Captain America angle.  

You grabbed your phone and your jaw about hit the floor.  There was a text from Steve already.  

Are you going to say good morning?  

You didn’t think you would hear from him for at least a few days.  It made you smile and wiggle as you sat on the bed.  

Good morning!  Or afternoon?  

Before you set the device down the reply bubbles started to form.   You parted ways seven hours ago.  It was a Saturday.  This was unexpected.   The bubbles disappeared and then reappeared several times.   You were on the edge of your seat.  

Then your phone started to vibrate.  You almost threw the thing, seeing Steve’s name pop up. Instead your smile grew as you slid it to answer.

“Was good afternoon not appropriate?  Technically it’s 12:15, that is literally after noon.”  You tried to stifle the excitement.

“You want to have a beer with me tonight?”  Steve’s voice was just as sexy over the phone.  “I would say dinner, but I know you had some things to take care of.  There’s this sports bar I love,  I promise I won’t spill anything on you and coffee keeps us up too late.”  

“I’d love to.”  You didn’t see a point in trying to act coy.  

“Great, nine o’clock?  I’ll text you the address.”  Steve’s smile carried over the phone.  

“Sounds like a plan.”  You ran your hand over your hair and wondered if you could get away without washing it.  

“Have a great day.  I”ll see you tonight.”  

“Bye.”  You clicked off the phone and did a little happy dance.  

You didn’t see that one coming.  

Your phone lit up with Steve’s message right away.  You sent a thumbs up emoji.  To your surprise, Steve responded:

Emojis, it’s like hyrogliphics are coming back?  Why did we skip the sonnets?

You didn’t even think before responding.

You: Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s Day?  Thou art more lovely and temperate.  

Steve: Sonnet 18, one of the greats.

You: I stole it from Clueless.  

Steve: What’s Clueless?

~~

You woke the next morning, at your normal 8 am.  Even more thrilled with the date from the night before.   It was fun.  It was a fantastic time.  Of course the texting all day long made the conversation flow right to person-to-person.  

“I can’t sleep until noon tomorrow.”  You stood up from the bar stool.  “Plus I hit my three beer maximum.  Maybe once I know you better you can meet four beer me.”  

“You’re guarded in the strangest ways.”  Steve beamed at you.  

“Me?”  You were shocked.  “I’m an open book. Nothing to hide.”

“Well would this bother you then?”  Steve cupped your cheek and before you could react his face leaned in.

Warm lips met yours.  You melted into him, your body felt like it was floating.  Nobody in the bar paid you any attention as his tongue slid into your mouth before pulling out.  A little moan came forward when he pulled away.  

There was a devilish grin on his face as he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles.  

“Let’s get you an Uber.”  

All you could do was nod in a numb state.  This amazing man kissed you.  It was like a dream.  

You were all smiles as you rolled out of bed, straight to the bathroom.  Sundays were your lazy day, but you missed too much yesterday that you had to squeeze some work in.  It wouldn’t be too much.  

When you left the bathroom you grabbed your phone.  Your heart exploded when you saw there was already a text from Steve.  

Today you can say good morning.  I have faith.  

~~

Steve Rogers was perfect.  Three dates in a week, not including coffee night.  Every other day he wanted to see you.  He made you laugh, listened to you, was always available.  Sent you little comics you found funny.   You giggled at the last gif he sent you of a puppy eating bubble.

You: I’ve got to head into a work meeting.  I’ll text you later.  

Steve: Knock ‘em dead.  

Supportive too.  You smiled as you slipped your phone into your pocket.  It had only been a week, but you couldn’t remember the last time you connected with someone this way, if ever.

“You’re smiley.”  A coworker bumped you with her arm.  “It’s almost like you have a glow.”

“Just a happy person.”  You shrugged.  “How is your son doing? Any luck on that math test?”

“Oh he did much better!”  Your coworker dropped her shoulders in relief.  “That tutor was worth every penny.”

She continued to talk and you tried to listen, but your thoughts kept drifting to Steve.  This was the best week of your life.

~~

The meeting got your adrenaline pumping.  You left and went straight to your office, typing away the e-mails, ready to get the new project off the ground.   It was almost time to call it a day, the sun was starting to set.  

That was when you picked up your phone.  Two messages from Steve.  Fuck.  Guilt set in.  

How was the meeting?  

Everything okay?

You grabbed your phone and started typing.

You: Sorry work got crazy.  Major project.  Just leaving now.  

Steve: Do you want to over to my place for dinner?  Unwind?  I can have a meal and some wine for you, straight away?  

Unwinding with Steve sounded perfect, plus you were more interested in the version that didn’t involve a meal.  

You looked down at your work clothes, your makeup probably long smeared off,  but did that matter?  Steve didn’t seem to care about your appearance.  He wanted you for who you were.   And right now that sounded perfect.

You: Do you have ice cream?  

Steve: Oh my freezer is overflowing.  Any flavor you like.  Popsicles too.  

You: I’m in.  Text me your address?  

~~

Every other time you arrived at a paramour’s place for the first time you were nervous.  Not this time.  Your brain played a slide show of the last week.  The way Steve listened, hung on your words, followed up with questions.  He made you feel like the most important person in the world.  

Your past experiences taught you that people were either fantastic talkers or listeners.  You prided yourself on being both, but Steve seemed to fall in that same category.  

With a strange confidence you hit the buzzer for his apartment.  The door unlocked and you walked up the stairs, speeding up with each step.  

When you got to his floor you spotted him hanging out the door, waving at you.  This was going to be the hard part.  

“Before I step inside, I have to let you know something.”  You rehearsed this in your head a few times.  “Work was insane today, and I know tomorrow is Saturday, but I have to put in a few hours.  This happens about twice a year, not a common occurrence.  But as much as I want to, I can’t spend the night.”  

“Okay.” Steve nodded and held the door open.  “Again I love your honesty.”  

You walked in to see all the only lights on in the apartment two candles on the clothed kitchen table.  Your heart started to sink at the thought he’d put into it, but then you noticed the meal set out at each end and began to laugh.  

“Full disclosure,  all I had was some TV dinners.”  Steve came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.  “And there’s no ice cream or popsicles.  But I can think of something I want for dessert.”

You spun around and put your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss.   He reached underneath you and scooped you up.  You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you, deepening the kiss.  

Nothing had ever felt so right in your life.  It was as if the cosmos had brought you together.  

“You’re too perfect.”  You pulled away as he dropped you on the bed.  

“You’re a one-in-a-million.”  Steve’s breath was heavy as he started to pull at your clothing.  

Hands were everywhere, lips randomly touching whatever skin they could.  Shoes and socks flying off with pants and shirts.  You shoved his boxers down as he unhooked your bra, the feeling of your bare chests pushed together making you shudder.  

Steve grabbed your panties and yanked them down as you settled back on his bed.  On your back, legs spread, knees up.  His arm encircled your thigh as he began to kiss.  You moaned and fisted the blanket, lifting your pelvis up inviting his mouth.  

He wasted no time and began to devour you. You tried to pay attention to what he was doing, but you couldn’t keep up.  Was that his tongue? His lips?  You cried out when something slid inside of you.  

“FUCK!”  Your body convulsed around his mouth.  

Your chest heaved while your brain tried to keep up with the pleasure.  Steve kept licking, touching, working you.  Everything was frenzied.   Your head collapsed to the side and you tried to regain control.  

“I knew you were primed.”  Steve kissed up your stomach.  “But you have one more in you.”  

He climbed until he was over you, his cock lining up with your entrance.  Never had you came that fast from another person.

Steve pushed forward and filled your aching pussy.  You squealed and grabbed onto his shoulders.   Rolling your body against his.  

“That’s it.”  He nipped at your neck.  “You were meant for me.  Never felt this way before.”  

You grabbed his face and pulled his lips to your own, enjoying the taste of yourself on him while he railed into you.  He returned the kiss and sped up.  Slamming his cock, teasing your clit while your g-spot came to life.  

There was no hiding your moans and his grunts as your bodies melded together.   Your breath started to tighten, and then your muscles started.  The edge came fast and you flung yourself over.  

Your head went back into the pillow as your screamed,  it was impossible to tell if your vision went black since the room was too dark.  But Steve let out a grunt and pulled out of you.

Instead of blowing all over your stomach he pushed your head down.  You slid down the bed and opened your mouth.  

His aim was perfect and for the second time you tasted yourself, enjoying the way he finished in your mouth, letting your lips wrap around his tip.  Drinking him all down while your body shook.  

“I think I’m falling in love.”  Steve pushed forward before pulling out and landing on his back.  

You nodded, breathless as you curled up to him.   He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.  

You ignored the tears forming in your eyes, fighting them away.  If pure happiness existed, this was it.  How did you get so lucky?

~~

Steve: I’m going to hug my pillow all night wishing it was you.  

You glanced at the clock, it was already approaching midnight.  

You: I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.  Thank you for a wonderful night and a gourmet meal.

Steve: Get some sleep.  I miss you.  

You: I miss you too.

You grabbed your pillow.  If Steve was pretending his was you, maybe you could do that same.  A huge smile on your face as you drifted off.

~~

You woke with a smile.  Maybe Smiley could be your new nickname.  You grabbed your phone eager to see what Steve had sent. To your surprise, there was no message.

All week long you’d woken up to messages.  You smiled even bigger, maybe you’d finally worn him out and the man needed more sleep than you did.

You rolled out of bed to brush your teeth, thoughts filled with nothing but Steve.

~~

Work was so intense, you turned your phone off.  No distractions.  When the team broke for lunch you flipped it on, your heart racing to see Steve’s messages.  When the screen came to life you saw nothing.  

Maybe it was wrong?  Messages glitched sometimes.  You clicked the app open, all you saw was your last message.  It said read at 12:03 am.  

You shrugged it off.  Steve knew you had a big work day.  He was being respectful.  You thought about texting him, but you had to get back to it and didn’t want to come off as needy.  It wasn’t like you could text him all afternoon.  

~~

The project finished an hour early, 4 pm on a Saturday.  Everyone gave themselves a round of applause and you did a lazy golf clap as you reached for your phone.  

Your heart exploded when you saw a message from Steve.

Steve: How was your day?

You: Good.  I have so much to tell you!

There was no bubble response, or read receipt.  You stared at your phone.  Maybe turning it off had been a bad idea.  

After saying goodbye to your colleagues and walking to you subway stop your phone dings with a message.

Steve: Can we meet for coffee?  

You giggled.

You: Why not dinner?  The real kind this time.  It was a big day for me!  I want to celebrate, you can supply dessert again.  

Steve: Coffee.  Now?  First night?

Maybe he had a big day too.  He’d been so supportive of you, it was due to return the favor.

You: Sure.  I’ll be there in twenty.  

You headed to the other subway line, more than eager for a sleepover tonight.  

~~

When you arrive at the diner you scan it, not seeing Steve anywhere.  Maybe you beat him here.   You were about to grab a random booth when a man in a black hoodie, baseball hat, and sunglasses sticks his hand in the air.  

You smile, wondering if this is some Avenger’s mission.

“Are you going as the Unabomber for Halloween?”  You slide into the booth.  “I couldn’t even recognize you.”

“There’s no easy way to say this.”  Steve cracked his jaw.  “Ashley called me last night.  Very upset.”

“Whose Ashley?”  You blurted out the first thought that came to your mind.

“My ex.”  He let out a huge sigh.  “She’s a mess.”

“The bitch from the club?”  You were a little interested in the drama.

“She’s not a bitch.”  Steve put his hands on the table and your blood ran cold.  “She has some problems.  She is working on them.  And we have a lot of history and she needs my help.”

“Oh.”  You felt like your soul floated out of your body.

“You’re so perfect.”  He reached out and grabbed your hands.  “But she needs me.  You don’t need me.  We have a lot of history and I owe it to her to try.”  

“Oh.”  Everything went numb.

“I wanted to let you know in person and before things got too serious.”  Steve squeezed your hand.  “If I could take back last night, I wouldn’t.  It was perfect,  you’re perfect.”

“You already said that.”  Your voice was getting tight.  

“But I mean it.”  He pushed the hood off his baseball cap.  “I can’t leave her.  Without me, I mean, you saw her at the club that night.  She’s a disaster.”  

The tears started to boil in your throat they were so deep.  You yanked your hands away, thoughts flying to wild to speak clearly.  You didn’t know if you wanted to scream at him or plead with him to pick you.  

“I hope we can stay friends?”  He let out a sigh.  “I mean, you’re amazing and you made me so happy this past week.  Probably the happiest I’ve been in my entire life.  You’re smart, and witty, and beautiful, and you’re everything.”

The way he said week hit home.  It was only a week.  Not a month, not a year.  Just a week.  A lot of digs ran through your mind, ways you could make a joke, ways you could state your feelings.  But instead you said one thing.

“Sure.”  Your brain started to scream at itself.  

“That’s such a relief.”  Steve dropped his shoulders.

“I had a really long day.”  You stood up from the booth.  “Talk soon?”

You didn’t look back as you ran to the door, the tears spilling over. With a shaky hand you pulled out your phone, screaming at yourself for being so stupid to develope feelings, but smart enough to do one thing.  You highlighted his contact and clicked delete.  

~~

Friends, family, whoever would talk had to listen to you cry.  You didn’t hold back for them.  You made sure they alternated duty.   You even took a week off of work.

“If I would have stayed that night, would he have ignored her?”  You sobbed to your best friend.  

“No hunny.”  She ran a hand through your head.  “No.  You got caught in a weird game.”  

~~

Steve: How do you kill a circus?

It’s a random number not saved to a contact, but you know that’s the first text you get from Steve.  You know the punchline, but rather than responding you delete it.  The last thing you want is to memorize his number.  

You would’ve broken down and sent some very dumb stuff you would’ve regretted.  It’s only been five days.  He should send his girlfriend those jokes, not you.  

~~

Three days later you get  another.

Steve: How are you?

You think about deleting it, you think about screaming you broke my heart, acting cool like you’re busy, or just gushing about how much you miss him and what a great guy his is.  

You: Fine.

Steve: Glad to hear.

You don’t hesitate to delete the thread.

~~

Steve: I miss you.

Your heart races.  It’s been two weeks since the night you had the best sex of your life.  The tears sting your eyes.  You’ve been apart longer than you were together.   Did he realize he made a mistake?  Was he coming back to you?

You start typing: I miss

But then you stop.  No.  You had to frame this right.  State it right.  But what was there to do? Yell at him into loving you?  Did you love him?  Your heart hurt like it had, but this was wrong.  

With a shaky finger you highlighted the number and moved it to block.  The sobs came again and you cuddled your phone, regretting your choice.

~~

The day you hit the month mark you were trying not to think about Steve, but then the celebrity hit:  CAPTAIN AMERICA ENGAGED!  It ran all over the headlines.  

Him and his fiance were plastered everywhere.  You couldn’t escape.  It hit you then.  You were a rebound.  You were nothing.  A temporary step on his life path.  It hurt.  It hurt more than anything.  No ice cream could repair the hole one week with Steve Rogers had created.

~~

“I’m glad we got you out tonight.”  Your friend poked you in the side as she screamed in your ear.  “What’s it been, months since you’ve been in a club?”

“Yep.” Two, but you tried not to think about how your last time in a nightclub ended, how it could derail your life.  “But I’m here.”

You still hated the loud music.  Memories of a sports bar with Steve tried to come forward, but you buried them before they could.  

“Let’s dance!” She grabbed your hand.  

“Not yet.”  You yanked it away.  “In a few drinks.”

“I’ll wait with you.”  She settled next to you.  “But that dance floor is inviting.”

The bodies were moving and you scanned the area.  Your eyes bulged when you spotted a familiar face, tongue down a mouth.  

“Is that…..is that Captain America’s fiance?”  Your friend grabbed your arm,  you never told them the mysterious Steve’s last name.   “She’s not kissing Cap.”

She pulled out her phone ready to take a picture, but you put your hand out and lowered her arm.  

A wave of clarity rushed over you.  

“His girl wants to party all the time.  He buys her champagne and diamonds.”  A weird smile settled over you.  “He thinks he can fix her.”

That was the problem.  You didn’t need fixing.  And if you ever did you would figure it out for yourself, with the support of people around you.  Steve hit the nail on the head when he said you didn’t need him.  You never would.

“Go dance.”  You gave your friend a playful spank on the ass.  

For the first time in two months you felt like yourself and turned back to the bar hoping to block the music.  

A finger tapped your shoulder and you looked up with no jump.

“It’s loud in here.”  A handsome man with dark hair looked down at you.

“There’s a coffee shop a block away.”  You stood up.  “Can I buy you a cup?”

“Yes.” He nodded and set his drink down.  

“What’s your name?”  You yelled over the music.

“Stephen.”  He was right behind you.  

“Do you go by Steve and what are your thoughts on needy women?”  You pushed open the door to the club.

The air was hot and you rolled your shoulders back, embracing the lack of obnoxious music.

“If I went by Steve I would have introduced myself that way.”  His intense eyes glared at you.  “And I am a surgeon.  Everyone I encounter is needy.  I don’t have time for it in my personal life.”

You stifled your laughter at the response.   At least Steve had taught you to speak your mind.  Having a flashback to leaving the bar with him.  

“Well Mr. Stranger,  I will never need you.”  You grinned at him.  “Except for good conversation and occasional support.”

“It’s actually Doctor Strange.”  He chuckled.  “I think that’s the first time I laughed in months.”

“Tell me about it...literally.” You kicked at the sidewalk.  “How do you kill a circus?” 

The man scoffed at you and then wiped off his sleeves.  

“You go for the juggler of course.”  

[brainrattlers]

Play It Cool - Tyson Jost (6/n)

Author’s Notes: It’s a little slow right now, but we’ve got more Jess (OFC) and AJ (OFC) doing their thing, and it’s getting close to Halloween... time for SPOOKY SZN! Some of this, if you’ve been following me before I started posting this big story, is going to sound familiar. Tweaked a bit though.

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OFC 

Warnings: occasional language, there is some mushy stuff, we’re not at the 18+ point yet, but... it’s coming. (Yeah that was a poor word choice right there.) Miss Part 5? Here you go: https://brainrattlers.tumblr.com/post/685260220370501632/play-it-cool-tyson-jost-5n Word Count: right around 3300 in Part 6 here. Friday morning happened, and it was a bit more rough than normal. AJ drank more coffee than she usually does to make it through the morning. Tyson woke up a bit later than he intended and was nearly late to morning skate at the arena. They might have been exhausted, but the smiles could not be pried off their faces. The two texted over her lunch break, leaving him to get his afternoon nap in before the game.

Surviving the afternoon, AJ raced home to get a shower and a change of clothes. It felt weird wearing Nate’s jersey suddenly, so she grabbed an old one from her closet, it had a FORSBERG 21 on it. She wondered what Nate would think, but this way at least it wouldn’t feel weird not wearing a 17, but also not wearing 29. Jersey on, hair did, and with a knock at the door, AJ was on the road to Ball Arena with Jess. She quickly shot a text off to Tyson in the hopes he’d get it before going full-focus on the game.

AJ: Good luck tonight, sweetie. I’ll be in 120, hope to see you! (kiss emoji)

The two friends sat down in AJ’s section, Jess finally opting to sit with her. Sure, it wasn’t the Avs Attack Twice end, but AJ loved watching warmups. This was the first home game since she and Tyson started seeing each other, so she wasn’t really sure what to expect. Nachos were in hand, and beverages were in the cup holders - they were ready for the night’s festivities. A couple selfies were snapped and tagged on Twitter, causing the two to laugh when they’d see themselves on the big screen at Ball Arena. 

With about 17 minutes left until the game was to start, the Dropkick Murphys started playing loudly through the arena, and everyone could feel the electricity in the air. The team erupted from the tunnel onto the ice. Kuemper skated to the net, with a string of other players swarming around him in circles within their half of the sheet of ice. Pucks flew about. 

And then there was Nate, who swung around and slid his shoulder along the glass in front of AJ. However something else happened, something AJ had never seen Nate do. It was almost as if he did a double-take, looking back at Jess, before skating off to grab a puck and shoot at the net. 

Before Jess could even say anything, AJ confirmed it.

“Yeah. He looked at YOU. I don’t even know what that was, but… go with it?”

Jess was suddenly giddy as hell, but doing a pretty decent job at keeping the screaming internal. All the while, AJ followed Tyson with her eyes. After several loops around both sides of the ice, Tyson grabbed a puck and worked on stickhandling right in front of AJ and Jess. Keeping his eyes on the puck dancing around the other pucks in front of him, he let go of his stick with his right hand, and made a tiny waving motion near his hip, then grabbed ahold of his stick again. If AJ had looked away for even a second, she would have missed the smile on Tyson’s face, especially after AJ ever so slightly nodded back at Tyson. He was back to focusing on the tasks at hand.

Nate, however, was still intrigued by the woman that was laughing and talking with AJ. He skated around and tapped his stick lightly at the glass in front of AJ and Jess, seemingly innocuous. The usher at the bottom of the stairs looked over at AJ, and shook her head and laughed, realizing that she indeed was not lying when she said there were inside jokes with her and Nate. All the while though, Nate kept his game face on, despite being extremely curious. With warmups wrapping up, Nate, Mikko, and Tyson were the last on the ice, gathering up pucks and shooting them into the empty net before leaving the ice.

The night’s starters were announced, and in a surprise twist, it was announced that the center was from St. Albert. AJ started cheering ridiculously loud as it caught her off guard that Tyson was starting that night. Otherwise, the game was pretty uneventful, not a lot of penalties. But there were a couple of goals, including one from Nate. He pointed at AJ, AJ pointed back, all was right in the world. She did notice the tiny sideways glance toward Jess again though. Tyson was trying so hard that night, but just was not finding the net. He looked discouraged as he skated off the ice at the end of the game, despite the win.

AJ’s phone buzzed as she and Jess walked across Wewatta, heading toward the parking garage that was hiding Jess’s car. 

Tyson: Sorry I couldn’t score a goal for you tonight. Heading directly to the airport after media availability. Text you when I get to the airport.

AJ: Sounds good. You worked hard tonight though, that’s what matters. Talk soon. (kiss emoji)

Tyson: (heart emoji)

Jess was still gushing about the double-take Nate gave. And understandably so, Nate is usually so stoic. AJ had no idea if Nate even saw her the first couple of games until she started picking up on his tells. This was definitely different and not the Nate AJ was used to seeing, even if the break in character was a fraction of a second. To celebrate the win though, Jess stopped at In-n-Out for some late night dinner. While waiting for their orders, AJ’s phone started buzzing incessantly as both Nate and Tyson were texting. 

AJ showed Nate’s text to Jess, which set off a big chain of events. Nate: Who were you sitting with tonight? 

AJ smirked, Jess’s eyes went wide.

“Did… wait… that’s from Nate?”

“I don’t think he is talking about the guy on the other side of me.” AJ laughed and tapped out a reply.

AJ: That’s Jess, the gal I was telling you about, you’ve chatted before. The one I said we should get together and have lunch sometime maybe? 

Nate: OK. Let me look at my schedule and maybe we can have lunch after practice sometime. Heading out, text you when we’re on the ground.

AJ showed the texts, and Jess was freaking out once the two got in her car. AJ promised she’d deliver details as soon as she had them.

Once he was at the airport, Tyson started texting again, asking about things maybe they could do the next week for a date. Figuring out schedules, which again, was more of figuring out his schedule and if she was going to be around. Although AJ did tell Tyson that her Wednesdays nights were now booked, however if there was a home game, she’d be there. She didn’t get a chance to explain why her Wednesdays were booked, as Tyson let her know the plane was taking off. And his new favorite thing - he got to tell her he’d text her when they landed.

Jess dropped off AJ, and AJ promised as soon as she heard back from Nate, she’d let her know.  AJ was finally back home, and curled up in bed watching a show on her tablet, keeping the flight tracker open on her phone.  There was a bit of a delay, and the flight itself was long as well, which kept AJ fighting to stay awake. She finally gave in to her eyelids getting heavy, knowing she could at least sleep in as it was Saturday.

The buzzing of AJ’s watch forced her to open her eyes and grab her phone.

Tyson: On the ground. Miss you already baby. Hope you’re having sweet dreams. (heart emoji)

With one eye open, AJ squinted and attempted to text back, finally settling on AJ: Miss you too, love. Sweet dreams when you get there.

Tyson’s heart damn near exploded when he read AJ’s text. AJ’s damn near leapt out of her chest, as she realized what she called him in her sleepy state. Her phone buzzed one more time.

Tyson: (heart emoji)

She smiled at the fact he didn’t freak out, and the adrenaline from the panic wore off quickly, lulling her back to sleep. 

AJ woke up late Saturday morning to the feeling of the sun streaming in her bedroom. She looked at the texts from early in the morning and cringed a little, but still had a warm feeling in her chest that she hadn’t scared him away. She texted him good morning/afternoon as he was on the east coast, and realized that he was probably either napping or they had an afternoon skate before the game. Social media led her to believe it was a nap, there weren’t any photos of the team at the arena. She did some chores around the house, and settled in for the evening with some Chinese food and the game on. 

Tyson had texted on the way to the arena earlier that evening that they’d be flying back after the game, but figured it’d be pretty late. They opted to not meet up after he got back into town so sleep could be a thing. AJ wished him all the luck for the game, and that she couldn’t wait for him to get back home… but would be patient until their next date. 

The game was good, the Avs won 5-2. Tyson had an assist, which made AJ’s heart swell. Jess and AJ texted throughout the game, cheering with the highs and cussing out the other team when it came to penalties and goals against. Jess also inquired about if any progress had been made with getting lunch set up, which had not happened yet. AJ requested she be patient, it wasn’t easy working with Nate on these things. As is, it was getting more difficult to find time for them to play Fortnite together between their schedules.

As the team boarded the plane, AJ got a text from Tyson.

Tyson: Missed you at the game tonight, but that point I scored was for you. (heart emoji)

AJ: Aww, for me? You’re the best. I watched the game in my pajamas, but I would have rather been there.

Tyson: Oh yeah? What are your pajamas tonight? (winking emoji)

AJ snapped a selfie in her oh-so-sexy pajamas consisting of a t-shirt and some blue pajama pants. In a silly pose, the photo was captured, and sent to Tyson.

Tyson: Ooh yeah, I like those lol Wouldn’t mind seeing you in them more often though.

AJ: Tyson, why are you… you? (laughing emoji)

Tyson: Would you want me any other way? 

AJ: Nah, I’m feeling pretty good about what I’ve got. (kissing emoji)

Tyson: (blushing emoji) Planes moving text when we land (kissing emoji)

AJ was jolted awake by her watch buzzing on her wrist a couple hours later, alerting her to a text from Tyson.

Tyson: On the ground. Can’t wait to see you Monday night babe, hope you’re dreaming sweet dreams. Hopefully I’m in them lol (heart emoji)

AJ: Glad you’re home love. See you Monday night. Sweet dreams to you as well (heart emoji)

Sunday was a catchup day for both, and prepping for the coming week. A constant string of text messages were sent all day between the two, talking about anything and everything. A tentative date had been planned for Monday night after AJ got off work but it was definitely an unknown yet as to what was going to happen. 

AJ’s phone buzzed after what she presumed was the end of practice. (Author’s note: These two text way too much.)

Tyson: Can I pick you up at 6:30?

She was indeed a little surprised, but also impressed with the initiative Tyson had been taking on setting up the past two dates, and now this third one.

AJ: What do you have planned?

Tyson: Don't want to ruin it, can't tell you. Might want a jacket, it's probably going to be a little chilly.

AJ: What are you planning, Tyson?

Tyson: Just trust me, I think you'll love it.

AJ: Alright, I'll see you at 6:30. Here’s my address…

The rest of the afternoon was spent figuring out what could have spurred on this quick set of plans for a date, but she wasn't coming up with anything. The relationship was so new, it was texting constantly, a few phone calls, and sending snaps back and forth, but there hadn't been a lot of in-person hanging out yet. Her mind was completely drawing a blank as to what the date was going to be.

The evening rolled around, and Tyson being Tyson, he showed up 10 minutes early. He seemed very anxious about the date as he sat on the sofa in AJ’s home, taking in the surroundings while waiting for her to finish up grabbing her hoodie from the closet. He loved the fact she just was herself, not trying to be something she wasn't for him. She caught him smiling and staring as she slid it over her head.

"Is this okay?"

"Yep, it's perfect. Let's goooo, tickets are for 7:30."

"Tickets? For what?"

"You'll see when we get there."

The two walked out to Tyson's Grand Cherokee, where he opened the passenger door.

"Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

"Is there a ren fest going on or something?" AJ laughed at the name.

"I was trying to come up with more fun pet names for you, seeing what sticks. M'lady it isn't." They both laughed.

After a bit of driving, the vehicle pulled up into the parking lot, where there were Halloween decorations everywhere. A line was forming near the front of the building, with a wide variety of people in queue. Tyson seemed fidgety still, but kept his cool.

"Surprise! It's that haunted house you were telling me about that you saw on the news! Are you excited?"

AJ was taken aback by this, and kind of unsure what to say.

"Uh, yeah! Let's go!"

The two got in line, and the nervousness was starting to set in. Tyson was starting to laugh a lot, and put her ahead of him. This move had her concerned. She was full of nervous energy, and really not prepared for what was to come.

As they inched in, AJ insisted Tyson go first, and he did, for about the first 10 steps. Someone in a dark corner of the room jumped out and caused both to scream as they grabbed onto each other, which he was completely okay with. Yet somehow she ended up in front of him again. Tyson continued to flinch and nervously laugh and scream, burying his face into her shoulder.

"Tyson Jost, why are you using me as your human shield? You're supposed to be protecting ME, goof!"

He tried to laugh it off but people kept jumping out of the shadows, or straight up following them, causing shouts and jumps in the opposite direction constantly. She was pretty sure somewhere in the haunted house, Tyson actually punched a clown character in self-defense. And it was so like him to apologize on the spot.

Another point AJ caught him yelling "You're not allowed to touch me!" at a group of zombies that popped up. This was a much different scenario to be hearing that statement in than what she had possibly daydreamed about previously.

After being chased out of the maze, both were hanging onto each other and trying to catch their breath. Tyson broke the silence first.

"So what did you think? Was it as good as you expected?"

AJ tried to choose her words carefully. It didn't come out as tactful as she had hoped.

"I appreciate the effort you put into this, I really do, but... I really hate haunted houses."

Tyson's face fell from true curiosity to concern, then to confusion. "Wait, you sounded so excited about this place when you told me about it?"

"Well yeah, you were talking about wanting to do something for Halloween but wasn't sure what to do... I just brought it up thinking you might like the idea. I'm sorry I gave you the wrong idea about this."

Tyson started laughing.

"I hate haunted houses too. Why do you think I kept pushing you in front of me? I don't even like scary movies!"

The two laughed for a few moments, getting the last bit of nervous energy out from everything they witnessed in the haunted house. All the while, AJ was conjuring up a new idea.

"Tyson, I have a better idea for Halloween. Let's head back to my place."

AJ looked at him with a soft smile, grabbing his hand gently. His eyes grew wide.

"Not for that, Jost. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Tyson pouted, but led the way back to his car.

The two shared their thoughts on the event, no matter how tainted from the dislike of haunted houses, all the way back to her place. Most of them were things like "YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN YOUR FACE WHEN THE PUPPET JUMPED OUT AT YOU!" and "I thought you were going to break my hand as hard as you were squeezing it." (Tyson does have quite the grip.)

Finally back at AJ’s place, she led him inside with the realization she never gave him the grand tour of her place. Granted it is much smaller (she’s not a pro athlete on a contract), but it was home to her. And Tyson loved seeing all the little touches that screamed AJ. Once finished, she asked if he wanted anything to drink as he sat back down on the sofa from earlier. Back from the kitchen, AJ brought out a little bowl of Halloween candy, beverages, and pulled the blanket off the other chair in the living room. Before he knew it, she was snuggled up close to him, grabbing the remote to pull up something to watch.

"Seeing as how we both don't like jump scares and such, here's the next best thing I could think of to celebrate Halloween..."

By the end of It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!, Tyson had his head in AJ’s lap, her fingers playing with his curls atop his head. Candy wrappers littered the coffee table.

"Best Halloween celebration ever, Pumpkin," Tyson looked up at her and smiled.

AJ raised an eyebrow and smiled back. "That might be worse than m'lady. Keep trying."

"I'll find a nickname for you yet, babe,” Tyson laughed and lightly tickled AJ’s ribs, causing a giggle to fall out of her mouth.

Seeing as how it was a weeknight, and Tyson also had practice in the morning, the night was kept PG-13 at worst, and the two managed to pry each other’s lips off each other’s so that Tyson could go home and both could get some sleep. The reality of it was that it was becoming more and more difficult to keep from letting things progress further than just making out. But Tyson was letting AJ control the pace of the relationship. That was something new to him, not that he pressured women previously, but this time it just felt different, and important, that AJ be in charge. This was pretty new to AJ as well, as it was one of the first relationships where they seemingly weren’t afraid to talk to each other and communicate. In all honesty, it felt like one of the first relationships she had where there was mutual trust and respect. (AJ has had some questionable relationships in the past, but who hasn’t lately?) Nothing felt forced, and it just felt like there was good flow between them, even this early on. Part 7: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/brainrattlers/686412673334804480