#freeze coffee beans

[seriesfive]

feeling so serene and comfy out here on this rainy tuesday. amazing stuff

[colombiancoffeeus]

100% Pure Arabica Freeze Dried Coffee

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[totally-not-deacon]

I forgot meal prep can be fun when I have the energy :)

[nerdie-faerie]

I love getting up at 6:30 to spend all day on buses and coaches to get to my shitty little student accommodation after dragging my luggage all across town

[nicksolemnlyswears]

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

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

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you going far?"

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

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

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

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

"You really don't have to…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Late night?"

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

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

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

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

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, rebellion or something else?"

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

"Did it work?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

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

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night," he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You sure?" He asks once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, chef!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chef, your girl is here."

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

"Here you go."

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Chef!"

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

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

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

"You too, Neil!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about your famous pizza?"

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

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

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That rough," you grimace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What good does he have to offer you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's been so fuckin' long.

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

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

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carmen, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

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

The End?

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

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

thank you! bye xx

[friendlyneighborhoodshark]

"How to Life" Masterlist

Cleaning and Tidying

Make your bed in the morning. It takes seconds, and it's worth it.

Reset to zero each morning.

Use the UFYH 20/10 system for clearing your shit.

Have a 'drop-zone' box where you dump anything and everything. At the beginning/end of the day, clear it out and put that shit away.

Automate your chores. Have a cleaning schedule and assign 15mins daily to do whatever cleaning tasks are set for that day. Set a timer and do it once the timer is up, finish the task you're on and leave it for the day.

Fold your clothes straight out of the tumble dryer (if you use one), whilst they're still warm. This minimises creases and eliminates the need for ironing.

Clean your footwear regularly and you'll feel like a champ.

Organisation and Productivity

Learn from Eisenhower's Importance/Urgency matrix.

Try out the two-minute rule and the Pomodoro technique.

Use. A. Planner. (Or Google Calendar, if that's more your thing.)

Try bullet journalling.

Keep a notebook/journal/commonplace book to dump your brain contents in on the regular.

Set morning alarms at two-minute intervals rather than five, and stick your alarm on the other side of the room. It's brutal, but it works.

Set three main goals each day, with one of them being your #1 priority. Don't overload your to-do list or you'll hit overload paralysis and procrastinate.

If you're in a slump, however, don't be afraid to put things like "shower" on your to do list - that may be a big enough goal in itself, and that's okay.

Have a physical inbox - a tray, a folder, whatever. If you get a piece of paper, stick it in there and sort through it at the end of the week.

Consider utilising the GTD System, or a variation of it.

Try timeboxing.

Have a morning routine, and guard that quiet time ferociously.

Have a folder for all your important documents and letters, organised by topic (e.g. medical, bank, university, work, identification). At the front of this folder, have a sheet of paper with all the key information written on it, such as your GP's details, your passport details, driving licence details, bank account number, insurance number(s), and so on.

Schedule working time and down time alike, in the balance that works for you.

Money

Have. A. God. Damn. Budget.

Use a money tracker like toshl, mint, or splitwise. Enter all expenses asap! (You will forget, otherwise.)

Have a 'money date' each week, where you sort through your finances from the past seven days and then add it to a spreadsheet. This will help you identify your spending patterns and whether your budget is actually working or not.

Pack your own frickin' lunch like a grown-up and stop buying so many takeaway coffees. Keep snacks in your bag.

Food and Cooking

Know how to cook the basics: a starch, a protein, a vegetable, and a sauce.

Simple, one-pot meals ("a grain, a green, and a bean") are a godsend.

Batch cook and freeze. Make your own 'microwave meals'.

Buy dried goods to save money - rice and beans are a pittance.

Consider Meatless Mondays; it's healthier, cheaper, and more environmentally friendly.

Learn which fruits and vegetables are cheapest at your store, and build a standard weekly menu around those. (Also remember that frozen vegetables are cheap and healthy.)

Learn seasoning combinations. Different seasoning, even with the exact same ingredients, can make a dish seem completely new.

Misc

Have a stock email-writing format.

Want to start running, but find it boring? Try Zombies, Run!.

Keep a goddamn first aid kit and learn how to use it.

Update your CV regularly.

Keep a selection of stamps and standard envelopes for unexpected posting needs. (It happens more regularly than you would think!)

[rambling-at-midnight]

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks

Pairing: Jason Todd x Civilian!Reader. No pronouns so can be read as any gender!

Summary: Meet-ugly with the Red Hood due to a gas station robbery gone wrong.

Word count: ~2k

(I'm branching out to other fandoms, apparently. Let me know if you want a sequel. Enjoy!)

You weren't born in Gotham, so it sometimes still surprises you that you had adjusted so well to its particular brand of crazy.

You're from somewhere a little more south of New Jersey, although most places in the U.S. are a little south of Jersey unless you're a lobster farmer from Maine or a tree hugger from Vermont.

Both of those descriptions sound critical, but they weren't meant to be. Right about now you're seriously considering taking up lobster farming.

No one sane ever moves to Gotham. Everyone knows the stories, and even if most of the country didn't believe all of them, most people aren't stupid enough to disregard them. And you certainly weren't stupid. But rent was dirt cheap for a city, and so was tuition for GU's vet school. So you thought to yourself, "How bad could it really be," bought pepper spray and a taser, and accepted the admissions offer.

You'd always liked iced coffee more than green bean casserole and peach cobbler, anyway.

Reading news articles hadn't been enough to prepare you for the utter insanity of Gotham City, unfortunately. But you adapted. You always did. Upgraded your taser, memorized the bus schedule, learned the less sketchy areas of town, did your best not to get caught outside after dark. Kept your head down, ignored the crime lords and genetic experiments gone wrong and lunatics and vigilantes scurrying along the rooftops, and you'd survived for almost two years without many incidents.

But you'd gone to the library because you were critically unable to work in your apartment, gotten distracted by panicking about how little you really knew about next week's test content, and stared at the pages of your textbook for almost an hour as you fought back tears. So now you were running late and it was dark as you walked home because the buses were down. Of course they were. That lunatic that thought he was a crocodile had smashed a bunch last week and they hadn't been replaced yet.

Goosebumps prickle on the back of your neck, but you tell yourself it's nothing. Keep your head down. Criminals target the people that look most obviously paranoid first.

You're just burnt out. Severely. But the end of your sophomore year of veterinary school was looming, which meant you would have a relaxing three-month vacation before the next one started.

And no, you weren't thinking about next year's summer 'vacation' of clinicals. Because if this year was bad after a year of summer vacation, what will it do to you to have no break at all?

That's a future you problem, thankfully.

You're still feeling sorry for yourself when you reach the gas station right next to your apartment building. You walk right by it, remember what's in your fridge or pantry—thanks, grocery store self, thinking you don't need any snacking foods—then backtrack.

Since starting vet school, you've tried to be healthier with your eating habits. Brains lacking in nutrients absorb information less efficiently, after all. But you're still a sucker for Cheez-Its and energy drinks.

You won't drink it tonight, obviously.

Right as you put the items on the counter for the bored-looking cashier to scan the barcodes, something cold presses to your temple.

The cashier freezes, eyes blown wide with panic.

"Easy there," someone says to your left. A man, voice oily in a way that sets your teeth on edge immediately. "Do what I say, or I blow their brains out, then yours."

A gun.

A gun is pressed to your head.

Because of course it is. A shitty way to end a shitty day. You should have kept walking right past the gas station.

Before you moved to Gotham, you might have screamed and panicked, but you know better now. You know to stay calm.

You clench your fists to stop them from shaking so noticeably, but otherwise don't move. You've seen hostage situations before, because this is Gotham, but you've never been the hostage.

The gun feels heavy. And so cold, like it's sapping all the heat from your skin.

"Okay, dude," the cashier said soothingly. "You want the money in the register?"

The robber scoffs. "Obviously."

"All right." The cashier's voice is even and soft, unthreatening. You wonder if training for situations like these are required for cashiers in Gotham. It certainly hadn't been for your old job, although that hadn't been in New Jersey, and it hadn't been at a twenty-four seven gas station, either. "I need to get a key to unlock it, okay? So I'm reaching below the counter."

"Just get the key," the robber demands. The gun shifts against your temple. You fantasize for a half-second about acting like an action hero, disarming him and taking him down all on your own. But you're not a vigilante and you've never been in a real-life fight before. You don't think you're fast enough to get out of the barrel's way before he pulls the trigger. If you managed to shove it away, what if he fired and hit the cashier instead?

Then comes the sound of another gun clicking.

Great, you think half-hysterically. Just what we need. Even more deadly weapons.

"Lower the gun," growls a modulated voice, and everyone freezes.

The Red Hood is standing behind the robber, also pointing a gun to his head like the meme of people lined up in a church with guns aimed at the person in front of them.

The robber lets his gun dip a little bit. Distracted enough that it's not pressed directly to your temple anymore.

Not to brag, but you recover the quickest. It's probably the adrenaline.

Thank God you keep your keychain in hand while out at night. Your fingers shake, but you have your pepper spray up in a second, and the robber's turning to look at your sudden movement when you squeeze down on the nozzle.

The spray hits him directly in the eyes, and his howl of pain is immediate. But you don't stop spraying, even when the cashier starts to splutter and your own eyes water.

The gun goes off, once in the robber's hands, and a second time when it hits the ground because he's dropped it in favor of clutching his burning face.

You stop the stream of pepper spray, because now the air is spicy when you breathe, but can't force yourself to lower your hand. The Red Hood quickly handcuffs the would-be robber, which is only difficult because he's clawing at his eyes in pain, and executes a tricky-looking martial arts move to get him on the ground.

Despite everything, you're impressed.

The Red Hood is bigger than maybe anyone you've ever seen before. He could have punched the robber in half like paper, probably, but you appreciate the finesse a little bit more.

"Hey." A gentle voice, and gentle hands, take the pepper spray out of your grip. "Quick thinking there," you're complimented. By the fucking Red Hood, one of Gotham's most infamous crime lords. The first time you read about him in the papers, he was chopping off people's heads, and every story since has been similarly alarming. But he's not supposed to be here; the Red Hood stays in Park Row, which locals call Crime Alley, apparently, and you've always steered very clear from that part of town.

"Can you look at me?"

You do. Maybe he won't chop off your head if you listen well enough.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. That... does not compute.

The Red Hood doesn't save people. And he doesn't leave Crime Alley. So what's he doing outside of Crime Alley, saving people?

The robber is still screaming, eyes screwed up in pain. He's handcuffed on the ground.

"You should probably let him wash out his eyes, at least," you tell the cashier. "Pepper spray is pretty painful." You'd sprayed yourself once out of curiosity, realized how much it burned, then sprinted to the shower to rinse it off. Which, pro tip: not a good move, especially with warm water. Water reactivates it by opening your pores, or something, and when you're in the shower it just spreads all over your body.

Your eyes are watering. The Red Hood sees that, because he tells you, "Let's get some air," and tugs you out of the gas station.

He's right. The cool night air does feel good. You blink away the stinging in your eyes and he repeats, "Are you okay?" His voice is robotic from the mask, but kind of pleasant at the same time. You'd never guess just from listening to him that he's a killer.

"Yes," you say automatically. "Thanks," you add. You're lightheaded for some reason; you sway on your feet.

"You sure?" he asks critically. "You look... pale." Judging by the pause, 'pale' wasn't the word he really wanted to say. The red helmet tilts. "You weren't shot, were you?"

"I don't think so," you shrug. Then you look down at yourself and realize that there's a large bloodstain on your hip. "Never mind. I think I was."

"Jesus!" he yelps at the sight. It's kind of funny, actually, this grown man built like a brick shithouse yelping at the sight of blood. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug and peel your sticky shirt away from the wound to inspect it. "I thought I just bumped something." Sure enough, it's just a graze. You weren't sure which shot had hit you, but you'd honestly been injured worse. Plus, supervising surgeries at the animal clinic you'd worked at for years has desensitized you to the sight of blood. Maybe it's also altered your perception on what 'serious injuries' count as; the amount of times you've been bitten by startled dogs...

"You need to go to the hospital."

"It's just a scratch," you argue. "I can't go to the hospital. I need to feed my cat."

"Your cat can wait. You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm already late, and if I miss dinner, he'll start pissing all over my apartment."

The Red Hood sighs. "Where do you live?"

Your mouth opens to answer on instinct. You snap it shut just in time and glare. "Why?"

"So I can feed your cat for you while you go to the hospital."

It's nice of him to offer, but... "No."

"No?"

Maybe it's not the best idea to refuse Gotham's most prominent crime lord, but it would also be pretty stupid to tell a strange man where you live. Especially when he happens to be said crime lord.

"Look," you sigh. "I'm a vet student. I have surgical tools at home to treat myself with, and I promise, under the blood, the bullet barely hit me. I've been hurt worse by Chihuahuas that hate the vet."

"There's no way I can convince you to change your mind?"

"It's been a long day," you sigh. "I really, really just want to go home." And he's blocking the path. Your apartment building is directly behind him, just calling your name.

"At least let me walk you to your building." He holds his hands up at your suspicious look and assures you, "I won't ask for the apartment number."

"I'm literally right there." You point.

He turns, sees how close you are to being home, and says, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were some kind of villain."

"I'm reformed," he grumbles.

"Well, good for you."

You make sure you have your keys and your wallet, then step around him and make it all the way to your building's door before he calls, "Wait!" The Red Hood's jogging to catch up to you, holding the box of Cheez-Its and energy drink you'd almost died for. "You forgot these," he says.

"Thanks," you say, taking them. It would have been a shame to waste four dollars.

"You're welcome," he says. There's something odd about his voice, but you attribute it to the mask, scan to be let into the building, and make sure it's fully closed before heading to the elevator.

Your cat is unhappy about dinner being an hour late. He weaves between your feet, making his protests loudly and viscerally known. You wince. He's worse than the dogs that bark in this building sometimes.

Your poor neighbors.

You give him his wet food, then hop in the shower to clean off your hip. It bled a lot, but once the blood washes away, it's actually not as bad as you thought. You've stitched up animals before, but never yourself, and decide against trying tonight. If it heals a little unevenly, who cares? No one will see it, anyway.

You pad the wound with gauze, tape it over, and fall into bed. Staring at the ceiling, you're forced to admit to yourself that you may be looking up more in the future. Just to see if anyone in a red helmet is running on a rooftop nearby.

It was a long day. But, strangely, almost dying wasn't the worst part of it.

Actually... it may have been the best part.

~~

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[chrollogy]

SIGNED: LOVESICK FOOL #01

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

next | masterlist

synopsis: You decide to try out the university confessions page as an anonymous submitter to write a vague paragraph about your feelings for Iwaizumi—oddly enough, students following the page seems to be hooked in your confession.

chapter content warning: college au, fluff, oikawa appearance :3, reader is helplessly in love with mr iwaizumi hajime, not beta read.

word count: 2.3k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. sorry this came a bit late >< i fell asleep LMAOOOOOO

Falling in love has always been a weird concept. One day you wake up, and feel completely different towards a certain someone who you swear you only love platonically; your heart starts to race faster whenever you’re in their presence, mind formulating a million different thoughts on how to act normally until it loses its meaning, suddenly becoming overly self conscious of one’s appearance, and always wanting to look your very best whenever they’re around—the whole package.

Unfortunately, you were all too familiar with this.

As though in a romance movie, the whole world slowed down as your eyes landed on the person before you, anything, and everything faded into nothing—a mere whitenoise behind the rapid pounding of your heart.

Iwaizumi’s hair gleamed beneath the sun’s afternoon rays, long lashes ghosted over the apple of his cheeks, rosy lips slightly puckered in concentration. You remembered it like yesterday—the strong aroma of roasted coffee beans, the light chatter of other customers in the café, the warm blanket of sunshine, the heart-stopping eye contact.

Iwaizumi called your name a total of three times until you finally broke free from your trance; everything flooded back the moment your name slipped past his parted lips for the third time—as though suddenly reeled from a freeze frame.

You remembered blinking at him, letting a heartbeat or two pass before asking him what he needed, though, Iwaizumi’s words entered one ear, and left the other; you were more focused on the way his plush lips moved with every word spoken, mind wondering what it’d feel like against your own.

That night, you tossed, and turned beneath your ivory blanket; mind a complete mess, and heart an even bigger mess. You just didn’t get why you had to catch feelings for Iwaizumi out of all people.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, never but everything between the two of you has been strictly platonic ever since—hell, you both even had a fair share of past relationships; you felt indifferent when Iwaizumi introduced his first girlfriend to you but now, just the thought introducing another woman made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

Realising that bottling up these feelings was a foolish thing to do, you scoured your mind for anything, and everything just to find some kind of release from all these unsaid thoughts. You were close to giving up, and retire for the night until a random thought popped into your mind,

Seijoh University Anonymous Confessions.

The unofficial page was undoubtedly popular amongst the students of the university, it served as a freedom wall where one was given the ability to express anything, and everything to fellow students behind anonymity; ranging from harmless rants about the meal prices all the way to heartfelt messages, you name it.

Submitting a confession was easy, all one had to do was fill up an anonymous form linked on the page, and wait ‘til moderators post it for everyone else to see.

You’ve always just been an avid reader of the confessions, a mere pastime in between lectures, and study breaks. It was interesting to see other students’ perspective, and thoughts in the campus you all shared, serving you a reminder that despite being in the same environment, everyone experienced things very differently.

Though, the only constant factor in everyone’s university lives was the confession page, even yours.

Despite the page ensuring full anonymity, it was still nerve-wracking to turn your feelings into words, your thumbs shook as you typed each letter into the anonymous form. You knew Iwaizumi would eventually see this confession despite only reading from the page from time to time, you just hoped it was vague enough for him to not notice—he was smart, and usually pieced clues together like it was nothing.

Surely out of all these students submitting confessions to this page everyday, Iwaizumi wouldn’t know, right?

The next few days consisted of refreshing said page, and waiting for your confession to pop up. “You’ve picked up your phone at least ten times in the past two minutes, what’s so interesting?” Oikawa’s dulcet voice pulled you into reality, your torso unceremoniously jerked away to shield your phone as he attempted to take a peek at the device in your hand.

The former narrowed his eyes at you but before he could throw a sly remark your way, Iwaizumi let out an annoyed sigh which gained yours, and Oikawa’s attention.

“Oikawa, if you’re bored, go bother someone outside the study room.”

The brunette playfully rolled his eyes before standing up to stretch, a small yawn slipping past his rosy lips. “Alright, I’m going to get some snacks. Anyone want any?” He grabbed his phone off the table before shifting his gaze between you, and Iwaizumi who only shook his head in silence, completely preoccupied with an assignment.

“Can I come?” “No, go scroll on your phone.”

Oikawa stuck his tongue out, not letting you protest before leaving the study room. The sound of the door clicking echoed throughout the walls of the study room, a deafening silence engulfed you, and Iwaizumi; for you, the silence was awkward, for him, it was completely normal.

If your heart were to pound any louder against your chest, you were sure he would’ve heard.

You randomly flipped through the pages of your textbook, trying to make yourself look busy. God, you couldn’t get more awkward than this. A flurry of overly self-conscious thoughts flooded your mind—would he think I’m weird for flipping too many pages? Fuck, am I reading this paragaph too fast? Is my posture okay? Oh god, I haven’t looked at a mirror all day, do I look fine? Is my hair messy?

Small, sharp prickles kissed down your body as heat engulfed you out of nowhere, cheeks warmed, and palms sweaty. You let out a sigh, nails digging into the skin of your nape, attempting to relieve the annoying itch.

“You okay? You seem very stressed lately.” Iwaizumi pushed his laptop screen halfway down to get a better view of you, he was slouched far into his seat, arms propped on either side of his laptop. His gaze met your own, deep emerald eyes boring into your very core. With a racing heart, you turned your mind upside down for an answer,

“Yeah . . I’m fine. Just tired is all.” Mentally cursing yourself, your nails harshly dug into the hearts of your palm—your voice came out small, and airy, not really convincing but whatever. If Iwaizumi caught your little white lie, he didn’t press on, instead returning a subtle dip of his chin before shifting his gaze back onto the laptop before him.

Sounds of soft keyboard tapping, and the low hum of the wall clock accompanied the deafening silence, you sat there twiddling your thumbs like a dumbass as if you weren’t supposed to be studying.

Iwaizumi wasn’t even doing anything yet here you were, warm faced, and as stiff as a board, if only he knew the effect he had on you. It was beyond embarrassing, really, how he was able to have this effect on you with little to no effort but then again, this was the Iwaizumi Hajime, of course it made sense.

For the first time in forever, you silently wished Oikawa came back as soon as possible—each second passed without a word spoken between you, and Iwaizumi, and you could really use the brunette right now to diffuse the growing awkwardness on your side.

As if the heavens answered your prayer, Oikawa came striding past the door, a bunch of snacks tucked neatly beneath his arm, and torso; you’ve never felt happier seeing him but you weren’t about to let anyone know. The brunette held his phone with his other hand, brown eyes concentrated on the device,

“Have you guys read the new confession? The page just posted it a couple of minutes ago.” He set the snacks on the table, and slid one your way before sitting down.

That’s right, just like you, Oikawa was also an avid reader of the university confessions page as though it was the morning newspaper. You couldn’t really blame him, the whole concept of it was interesting, plus, some confessions were rather strange but fascinating, nonetheless.

Iwaizumi wordlessly shook his head, not sparing a glance at his friend, you, on the other hand, felt a sudden wave of panic wash over your body. Did they finally post your confession? You squirmed in your seat, trying to act nonchalant, and completely normal about the situation at hand, “Mmm, no, not yet. Is it that interesting?”

Oikawa let out a low hum, an amused smile plastered on his face, with the way his gaze shifted back, and forth across the screen of his phone, he seemed to be reading the newest confession. The expression on Oikawa’s face did nothing to relax your nerves, he looked like he was enjoying every bit of the post—surely, you didn’t put much detail into it for anyone to piece it together or did you?

You expected the brunette to answer a simple yes or no along with a little explanation like he always did whenever he brought up the confessions page but apparently, he decided he’d read it out loud without you or Iwaizumi even asking.

Oikawa cleared his throat, “Here, I’ll read it out loud,” 

“Oh god. Never in a million years did I think this would happen to me but lately I’ve noticed that every time I see him, my heart starts racing. I can’t act normally around him anymore and he just looks so handsome whenever I see him. It’s hopeless, I know but some part of me wishes that my feelings are reciprocated. I don’t blame myself for falling in love because he’s such an amazing guy. He’s my everything, he knows that but he doesn’t know I don’t mean platonically. Sigh.”

As your friend read deeper into the paragraph, you slouched further into your seat, cheeks burning like the sun, and embarrassment engulfing your whole body. That was your confession. Fuck, you just wanted the floor to swallow you whole right then, and there.

Your eyes darted between Oikawa, and Iwaizumi, scanning their expressions—the former obviously had a smug smile on his face while the latter looked indifferent; the same old deadpan expression he’d worn since the start of your study session.

As if to make things worse for you, the brunette spoke up again, “It’s gaining quite the attention only because it's such a juicy confession, and students are trying to find out who’s in love with their best friend.” Oikawa chuckled, turning off his phone, and resting his palms behind his head.

What the fuck. How was your confession gaining more attention than the others? Last time you checked, yours was just a typical love confession, something all students have seen hundreds of times on the page, nothing special.

“W-what? Why? Why is it gaining attention?” Your tone came out more panicked than intended. Upon realising this, you awkwardly cleared your throat, and took a sip from your water bottle to help your nerves calm a tad bit before speaking up once again, “What’s so interesting about it, anyway?”

Oikawa shrugged, “Just a typical love confession but I’m not going to lie, it’s always interesting whenever someone has feelings for their best friend.”

Grabbing the snack Oikawa gave you earlier, you hastily opened the bag, and popped a chip in your mouth. Yeah, maybe eating something will calm your nerves.

This time, it was Iwaizumi’s turn to speak up, “Mhm. I’m guessing everyone’s just curious about it, maybe many can relate. It’s not easy being in love with your best friend.” He finally looked up from his laptop, dark emerald eyes shifting from Oikawa to you.

His gaze lingered a little too long for your liking which caused your brain to short circuit. Before you knew it, all you could do was listen to the sound of your yearning heart, fingers curling around the chip packet as your grip tightened.

You sucked in a breath, and averted your gaze from Iwaizumi, staring at the contents of your chip packet, “True . . I feel sorry for OP, especially since it's a long term friendship.” At least your voice didn’t come out shaky this time. Iwaizumi only nodded, he seemed to be in deep thought, whatever the reason was, you absolutely didn’t want to know.

Back in your dorm, you couldn’t help but check the comments under your confession, and as Oikawa stated earlier, majority of it were students tagging their friends on the post, and trying to find out who’s in love with their best friend. Some also gave sound advice about the situation which you appreciated, though, you didn’t know if you were really ready for a face to face confession with Iwaizumi.

Weirdly enough, the unexpected attention gave you a bit of confidence now that you were looking at it from another perspective. Earlier, it felt like a complete nightmare with how much other students were invested in your sad lovelife but now that you’ve calmed down, it was reassuring to see others give blind support, and words of encouragement.

Safe to say, there was still a hint of community between students despite everyone fighting their way through the semesters.

Plus, everyone seemed to await your next confession post, so who were you to deny them that? After all, you couldn’t really talk about it with anyone else, why not share it with the student population behind anonymity?

As expected, not only did your confession gain more traction within the next few days, but friends from classes you’re taking have also been talking about it. Though you couldn’t really comprehend what was so special about your submission, your feelings felt nothing but valid. Suddenly, it didn’t really feel like much of a crime being in love with your best friend—running away from your feelings was never an option but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t once cross your mind.

A million thoughts from students floated throughout the campus regarding the confession; ‘I wonder what their best friend is like?—he must be a really amazing guy.’ ‘I’m kind of curious as to what the person behind the confession is going to do next.’ ‘Heh, what if this confession is actually meant for me?’ ‘When will it be my turn?’

You’ve heard it all.

Despite everyone’s attention on the post, you just really wished that in the back of Iwaizumi’s mind, there was a pressing thought telling him the confession might be for him.

—

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© chrollogy 2024 | don't plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[fromgoy2joy]

I recently learnt that the 39 things not permitted on Shabbat are exactly the tasks the Israelites performed as they were building the tabernacle at the base of Mount Sinai. Which, to me? Hilarious.

I’m getting the visual of the Israelites being really hype enthusiastic overachievers who are chewing on the time accurate equivalent of coffee beans to get their project in. They're getting the curtains ready, their gold, their dolphin skins (or ancient middle eastern marine mammal equivalent of )- they're going haywire with the preparations-

and G-D putting his hands up.

“Timeout! Timeout!”

everyone freezes-

"Hey- I really appreciate it. I do. Super grateful for the hard work. But I think I’m going to mandate a rest day for you from all this stuff. You know how you haven't been eating or sleeping? Okay here's 25 hours where that's all you can do. Don't even think about picking up that hammer, Mendel!"

One brave Israelite raises his hand from the crowd. "Can we still.. argue?"

"Yes."

then a moment of consideration.

"But only if snacks are provided."

(inspired by a conversation with @daughterofstories )

[binniebakery]

ʚ thinking about yeonjun as the cute barista who works at the cat cafe that just opened ʚ you and your friend stumble into this new cafe and its like!! finally!! something to do since you moved to this town!! you weren’t all about clubbing or partying so this was definitely a safe haven for you to hang out with friends. ʚ the atmosphere is fresh and vibrant. green plants are everywhere and soft jazz fills the air along with the smell of coffee beans and fresh pastries. not to mention the cats?? literally everywhere?? ʚ its all too cute and you feel as if you're in heaven as you sit lazily on the plush couch with a nice cup of your favorite drink ʚ maybe you are just in heaven because who is that cute guy with the thin round lenses cleaning the table across from you?? ʚ you feel your fingers grip you glass a tad bit tighter than needed. and your heart starts to flutter when he suddenly glances up your way ʚ its like some type of cheesy anime scene. the way you both look at each other and immediately turn away the second you realize you were staring at each other a little too long, cheeks flushed and you almost miss the small smile the cute worker gives you ʚ you bite the inside of your cheek as you wrack your brain for ideas on how to start a conversation because well... obviously you cant waste this one chance to talk to the most attractive guy you've ever seen.. </3 ʚ its almost as if the stars align when your friend gets up to use the restroom. leaving you to your thoughts ʚ a small orange cat jumps into your lap, pawing at your leg gently for attention. unfortunately the poor thing knocks over your drink in the process :((( ʚ and of course. its just your luck that the drink spills, scaring the poor creature away and leaving you with a stained outfit. ʚ fortunately for you. mr glasses witnesses the whole thing (because he totally hasn't been staring at you the entire time..) and immediately he jumps to action ʚ "oh no!! I'm so sorry, mango has a habit of being too friendly" he apologizes and immediately uses the rag he had already been using to wipe the table down. ʚ he's so handsome up close. cheek bones prominent as he lets out an apologetic smile. ʚ its your silence that has him awkwardly laughing as he hands you some napkins to clean off the remaining drink from your clothing ʚ "so.. is this your first time here? I've never seen you here before." ʚ right. you had a voice to use. ʚ you nod, "y- yeah um.. first time here with a friend! i- it's really nice!" you stutter out and the young man takes a seat next to you as he watches you pat down your lap. ʚ "well the cats seem to like you.. you should come here often. i didn't catch your name by the way?" he inquires. ʚ "y/n. and you?" "yeonjun." he points to his nametag and you want to smack yourself for not noticing it before. ʚ "well y/n. it's lovely to meet you. it's nice seeing new faces. especially good looking ones." he continues with a smile. ʚ you almost choke from his comment. a bit forward but it seemed so genuine coming from him. you freeze as you try to think of a proper response ʚ "oh! ah- thanks.. ! you.. you're face is... nice too." you trail off shyly. yeonjun lets out a soft laugh and you mentally kick yourself for once again being the most awkward person on the planet ʚ but also his laugh is gorgeous and you could listen to it all day so maybe your embarrassment was worth it. ʚ the timing couldn't have been worse when you see your friend walking back from the restroom. but before she could reach you both yeonjun leans close. ʚ "tell you what y/n. come back again when I'm working and you can get to know this nice face a little more." his voice is quiet and it barely reaches your ears. you feel the warmth of his breath and find yourself turning redder than ever. ʚ you look up at him as he stands from his seat. yeonjun waves as he walks off and you find yourself smiling awfully stupidly because how could you deny such an offer?

♡ Recipe Notes: this isn't proofread at all but i wanted to write something cute and simple <3 yeonjun has been on my mind lately fr. enjoy!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Know Your Place 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall, destroyer!Chris [for the purposes of this AU, I will give him the last name Jackson] (Professor AU)

Summary: after a life time of home schooling, you finally get to experience the real world in college. (petite reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

The grocery store is nice. It’s not very big or crowded either. You expected one of those manic superstores you saw on TV. Instead, shoppers mill around in a mellow din and investigate apples or jars of jam. 

You take out your list as you step out of the way of another customer. As you unfold it, Walter stands nearby. He looks around the store, his chin high, and heat speckles across your neck. You look up at him and give a sheepish smile. 

“You don’t have to stick around. You just need coffee, right?” 

“I’m in no hurry,” he assures you and peeks down at the paper in your hand, “so, what’s on the list? What are we looking for?” 

“You really don’t have to,” you insist. “I’m sure I can figure this all out.” 

“I’m sure you can,” he says and takes a basket from the stack near the door. “But I’m offering because I want to.” 

“Hm, okay. Bet it would be faster...” you mutter. “Okay, er, zucchini.” 

“Zucchini,” he nods. “Well, look at me talking a big game and you stumped me. I don’t think I’ve ever bought any.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” 

“No problem, it’s gotta be with the... squash,” he points and gently nudges you ahead of him. “Right there.” 

He walks with you down the aisle and you squeeze by a cart as he trails behind you. You stop before the green vegetables and take a bag. Walter nears and offers up the basket. You bag up the zucchini and set it carefully inside. 

“Alright, and eggs... flour...” you look down the list. 

“Making a cake?” He wonders as he turns down the next row of produce. 

“Muffins. I thought... every day I could have one for breakfast. Like my mom makes. And I could freeze the extras for next week.” You explain, “and lunches, just a loaf of bread and tuna.” 

“Wow, seems like you’ve got everything planned out,” he muses. 

“I thought I did but I couldn’t even find the grocery store,” you laugh nervously. 

“Don’t be rough on yourself. You’re new. You’ll get around,” he assures. “Hey, be right back, gonna go grab my beans.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

“Dairy’s down there,” he points before he hurries off. 

“Thanks,” you utter after him. 

You grab a carton of eggs and peer around at the aisles, squinting up at the signs for each aisle. You see him down one as you search for the flour. It’s in the same row as the coffee. As you come down it, he tucks away his cell phone. 

He approaches as you look at the bags of flour. You grab a small one. Light enough to carry back to your dorm. 

“Here,” he takes the eggs and puts them in the basket. As you put the flour in after them, you sense his size again. The way he looms reminds you of how small you feel and really are. “So, besides getting lost, how’s school going?” 

“Good, I think. Yeah. I like most of my classes,” you say. 

“But...” 

“But?” You check your list again and find a tin of baking soda. 

“You don’t sound entirely pleased.” 

“I don’t?” You look at him. “Well, I guess I miss my mom. A little.” 

“That’s normal. And it just means you love her.” He insists. 

“I do,” you agree. 

“What about friends?” He prompts. 

“None, so far,” you shrug. “But I guess it takes time.” 

“No one you know from home going here?” He asks. 

You shake your head, “home schooled.” 

“Home schooled,” he hums, “wow.” 

“I know, it’s weird.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

“That’s what the guy in my history class said. It’s okay. It’s different. I think it’s weird to go to a school school. Sounds scary,” you say. 

“Well, you are,” he chuckles. “You’re in college. That means you’re pretty smart, home school or not.” 

“Maybe,” you agree dully and check your list. 

“Marshall?” A deep timbre undercuts the next item written down, “figures I run into you.” A man appears at Walter’s other side. “Getting that piss you call coffee.” 

“Chris,” Walter greets flatly. 

“Don’t act so happy to see me,” the man retorts. “How’s classes? You suspend anyone yet? I know it’s the first day but I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“Haha,” Walter drones sarcastically. 

The man puts his hand on the shelve and as he leans, his eyes fall on you. He’s a tiny bit shorter than Walter but still taller than you. And his dark hair is slightly fluffy and a thick beard darkens his square jaw. His irises are bright and blue. 

“Oops, I’m interrupting,” he says. 

“Doing some shopping,” Walter answers. 

“Don’t tell me you’re in one of his classes. Good luck.” The other man chirps. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Walter girds. 

“Him? Chris,” the man reaches across Walter’s front and offers his hand. “And you... TA?” 

“Mauve,” you shake his hand gently as his covers yours completely. His grip is strong and firm. “Um, we’re... I...” you hesitate as you try to come up with some sort of explanation. “We just met but Walter’s been so helpful. I’m new here so I don’t my way around yet.” 

“Walter being helpful? And who wouldn’t be for you, Mauve?” The man grins. 

“Chris,” Walter growls and angles away from him, “what else is on your list?” 

“Erm, bread,” you flick it nervously with your thumb, the other man peer around Walter at you. 

“Nice to see you, then, Marshall,” he says. 

“Mm, you too,” Walter doesn’t look back as he marches past you.  

You smile at Chris and give a tiny wave before you follow the larger man back down the aisle. You catch up to him as the list crinkles in your hand, “is that a friend?” You ask. 

“Kinda,” he shrugs. “He’s in Psych too. Sometimes we teach 304 together.” 

“Oh. Cool. Must be nice to get to work with others like that,” you say. “He seems nice.” 

“Nice? Chris?” He echoes. “Can be, I guess.” 

“Oh, okay,” you accept. 

“Mauve, you’re a nice girl. You think everyone is nice. Just like that guy in the Student Centre, right?” He says. 

“Well, he wasn’t mean.” 

“No, because he was trying to trick you,” he turns down another aisle and stops by the small cans of fish. “I’m not trying to scare you, I’m just looking out for you. Guys like the one who sat at your table, they aren’t nice. Colleges aren’t full of nice guys.” 

Your lips fall straight and you nod. You pick out a can of tuna as you try to hide your anxiety. You know he’s right. At the orientation, they told you how to call Campus Police and about those buttons on the polls that set off the sirens to signal help. And you’ve seen the news stories. Your mom couldn’t stop watching them before you left. 

“My mom told me the same,” you say. 

“She’s a smart woman. You wanna stay safe for her, right? She must be very worried to have you so far away, huh?” He drawls. You nod. “So, how about I keep an eye on you? Just so you can call and tell her everything’s good.” 

“I think... yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree. “Walter...” 

“Yes?” He raises the basket for you to put the cans of tuna inside. 

“Are we friends now?” 

You peek up at him and you’re surprised to see his lips curve, just a little, “sure.” 

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic march 25 - eyeliner - 2341 words

<33 of losing babies and chance meetings in hawaii

Regulus rubs at his eyes, smudging the remains of eyeliner from the previous evening probably only more.

It’s been a wild night out given that Regulus found himself the only one out of his friend group appearing down for breakfast at the hotel’s buffet. He went for a classic hangover comfort food, coffee with beans and toast and while he longed for the sausages and eggs and fruit and frozen joghurt Regulus isn’t fool enough to think he would have been able to keep all of that down.

Sleep is already tugging at the corners of his mind again when he presses the elevator button to bring him back up to his hotel room to doze away another few more hours. There’s a nice breeze coming in from the double doors leading out to the pool and Regulus leans against the cooling marble of the wall, eyes closed, soaking it all in.

It’s been Pandora’s idea, to get the five of them out for a few days over easter, away from home. From work and family—not that the latter was much of Regulus’ concern—and Regulus must admit that this one is definitely one of her better experiments.

The elevator doors ding and Regulus blinks open his eyes and steps forward only to come to an immediate halt because— 

Because there’s a baby in the lift.

Just– all by itself.

Sitting in its buggy. Completely at ease.

Alone.

No like…parent or guardian inside.

What appears to be a small boy with the wildest sort of curly, black hair Regulus has ever seen sits in his seat, one spiderman sock barely hanging onto his toes, chewing away on a toy in his lap and gazing with big, intensely green eyes up at Regulus.

“Uh, hi there, baby,” Regulus says. He sets a foot onto the threshold to keep the doors open and bends down, “Where’s your family, buddy?”

The kid suddenly throws his little body back into the padding of his buggy with a blinding grin and a screech of what Regulus assumes to be ecstatic elation, “Pafoo!”

“Bless you, mate,” Regulus replies politely.

The little boy reaches his hands out to Regulus, “Out!”

And, well, the little bugger might be onto something here because as of right now Regulus must look like a right nutter talking to the inside of an elevator and if the little one’s parents are going to try and find him they’ll probably start at the elevator areas on each floor.

So Regulus gets the small kid out of the elevator and wheels him over to where a set of dark leather sofas and armchairs are gathered opposite the elevator doors.

When Regulus sits down across from the little boy he giggles, happy as ever, as if nothing was amiss.

Well, at least the one time Regulus finds a lost baby it’s a happy one. Lucky draw, he thinks.

The boy is back to chewing on the little rubber ring again and Regulus eyes him curiously, chin propped on his fist. The boy’s skin is a warm brown, similar to Evan’s and Pandora’s and there’s a faint layer of freckles dotting his nose—just like it will happen to Regulus after a few more days out under the Hawaiian sunshine. There’s a small patch of drool on his yellow shirt but he looks clean otherwise. 

After another moment of inner contemplation Regulus finally reaches out and tugs the sock back into place. 

The boy snickers, wiggling his foot and Regulus finds his lips tugging at the corners.

“Pafoo, out!” the boy repeats again.

Regulus frowns, “Yeah, mate, I already got us off the elevator.”

The little boy keeps squirming in his seat.

“Oh,” Regulus makes when it dawns on him, “Oh, out. Er– yes, sure, hold on.”

He scoots forward on the leather to inspect the little belt trapping the boy in his seat. Eventually Regulus finds the lock, figures out the mechanism and untangles the boy from his buggy. Before he has the chance to freeze and wonder if the boy is even old enough to be able to walk yet there are small, chubby arms reaching out to him and tangling around his neck.

“Oh, okay,” Regulus blinks, feeling his tiny body warm where it’s pressed into his chest, “Um, okay, I’m– okay, uh. Hi.”

The boy pulls back from the crook of Regulus’ neck, smiling brightly. “Hi,” he replies, sweet as sugar and waving a hand at him. Regulus’ heart does not melt.

Regulus’ eyes however clock the small bracelet on the boy’s wrist, donned with little letters spelling out the name Harry.

“Harry, huh?” he asks. “My name is Regulus.”

Harry makes another one of his loud, elated noises, “Pafoo!”

“Nah, mate, Re-gu-lus.”

“Pafoo,” Harry grins.

“Fine,” Regulus sniffs, “I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from a one or two year old.”

Harry giggles again, nose scrunching adorably and hiccuping little laughs into Regulus’ shoulder. 

If Regulus had ovaries he’s pretty sure they would be actively doing something right now which– is decidedly a disturbing thought to have. In a manner of trying to distract himself Regulus looks around, gaze landing on the socks once more.

“So what’s your favourite Spiderman movie, Harry?”

“Spidey!”

“Yes, which one?”

“Pafoo.”

“Mine’s probably the one with Andrew Garfield.”

“Mo!” Harry yells suddenly, pointing back at his buggy.

“Mo?” Regulus asks, confused.

“Mo,” Harry makes again, knocking his tiny, loosely curled fists against each other.

That’s when the clarity washes over Regulus, lips dropping open with a silent oh of understanding. It’s sign language for more. 

He’s seen young parents teach their babies sign language for easier communication and with Dorcas being hard of hearing Regulus and his friends obviously have taken on learning a whole lot as well. The basics are as easy for Regulus as English and French are by now.

“More of what?” Regulus asks, doing the according signs.

“Tea!” Harry responds, smiling brightly, clearly happy with being understood.

Regulus kicks at the buggy to turn it and then fishes a sippy cup out of the holder next to the handles.

Harry slurps away at his cold tea content and does the little gulp ahh thing small kids do when they exhale once they’re done drinking. 

Regulus does not think about adopting a baby.

“Harry!” someone calls from the end of the hall suddenly and may the gods stand by because the person running over is undoubtedly the most handsome man Regulus has ever seen.

The small boy in Regulus arms is literally a carbon copy what with the wild, black hair, the dark skin and the bright smile.

“Dada!” Harry yells, as if it wasn’t clear as day that they share the same DNA.

Regulus’ hands start sweating where they’re still around Harry’s now wiggling body, watching the young man rush over.

“Oh, god, thank you thank you,” the stranger chants, carefully lifting Harry out of Regulus’ hands, “Hi, baby, hi. Daddy’s here. Oh, holy fuck.”

Regulus snorts a little at the crude language but, alas, Harry is probably too young to remember anyways. 

He gives them their little moment of embracing, fighting against the restless squirming in his stomach, the thing scratching at the inside of his walls demanding to find out everything about the cute boy’s father.

Once the young father has got enough squeeze time and Harry starts trying to wiggle free, he lets out another string of curses, this time Spanish, and Regulus barely refrains from whimpering.

He has to trap another one behind his teeth when the man finally, actually glances at him, relief clear on his features, laughing breathlessly and chocolate brown eyes glinting happily and with ebbing nerves.

“Thank you, I’m–” the handsome stranger blinks a little, mouth working uselessly before he slips back into a lopsided grin, “Hi, I’m James, you- wow, hello, uh– thank you, um, for Harry. I’m so glad he’s okay, I’m James– by the way. And you are? Aside from my gorgeous knight in shining armour.”

Regulus cocks a brow, hands on his naked hips right above the elastic of his short running pants and below his cropped, black shirt with pink letters saying those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. It was a Christmas present from his friends and the first thing he saw after rolling out of bed with a hangover this morning, sue him.

“No problem, he’s a little sunshine,” Regulus replies, gazing at Harry where he’s fiddling with James’ necklace, “I’m Regulus.”

“Wait,” James says, jaw dropping, “Your name is—”

“James!” it comes from the other side of the hall, followed by another rush of footsteps and Regulus turns to see two more men jogging over to them. One of them being—

“Jesus, fuck, I’m so glad you found him,” Sirius says, eyes fixated on James and Harry.

Sirius, as in, Regulus’ older brother Sirius.

Sirius, as in, Regulus’ older brother that he hasn’t seen in four years.

Sirius with his long-ish hair falling down to his armpits now in long, soft curls. Sirius with his arms full of tattoos and wearing red bootie shorts and having pierced nipples and Sirius with pink cheeks and a relieved look on his face and Sirius having his fingers interlaced with another man’s.

Sirius blowing out another breath as he strokes the little boy’s cheek carefully, “Where’d you find h—”

Sirius that swivels and looks right at Regulus standing dumbfounded in a random hotel lobby on fucking Hawaii.

“Regulus.”

“Sirius.”

“I– what are you doing here?”

Regulus narrows his eyes, “I found Harry.”

“You what?”

“Are you deaf?” Regulus shoots back, “I found your friend’s baby.”

Sirius’ mouth drops open, “Excuse me, that is my godson.”

Regulus slips into a frown, suddenly and stupidly feeling a bit possessive over the little kid that is clearly taken with him but apparently supposed to be his older brother’s godson. 

He sniffs, crossing his arms, “Well, you’re clearly not doing your job well seeing as you’ve lost him. Also he called me his Pafoo.”

Regulus expects Sirius to volley back another insult, a counter-argument or something of the likes but instead he lets the loudest, most dramatic gasp rip from his throat.

“Oh God,” James mumbles, blanching but failing to keep his lips from twitching.

The man next to Sirius looks just as conflicted, instantly cooing into Sirius’ ear soothingly and rubbing his shoulder as this one whimpers like a wounded dog.

“What?” Regulus asks, looking at James.

The handsome father winces with a badly concealed grin before he ducks close, murmuring, “It’s Padfoot. That’s what we call Sirius, it’s sorta his nickname.”

Regulus can’t help it, the gleeful laugh bubbles right out of him. He could kiss little Harry right now.

“No!” Sirius wails, letting himself fall back into the lanky, taller man’s arms. “Betrayal!”

“Come now, Pads, he’s 18 months old,” the third man says soothingly.

“Remus is right,” James concurs, “Harry doesn’t even know my mum from our neighbour most times.”

“Effie doesn’t live with you,” Sirius cries out.

Regulus thinks there might actually be tears forming in his eyes.

“And neither do you,” James says pointedly, “You’re across the hall and you work full time, might I remind you. You’re over maybe four times a week.”

“Five! At least!”

“Sirius, darling, please stop yelling,” Remus mutters, glancing at a passing old couple with a wobbly smile.

Regulus grins, “No, please keep going, this is the highlight of my vacation so far.”

There’s a poke in his naked side and when Regulus looks over James is giving him a playful scolding glare.

Regulus digs his teeth into his lower lip, voice purposefully innocent, “What?”

“Don’t be a tease,” James chides but it sorta loses the edge with how wide he’s smiling.

“Or else?” Regulus counters.

James hums, giving Regulus a once over before clearing his throat, looking back at his friend, “Here, Moons, can you take Harry for a second?”

Sirius makes an affronted noise, looking downright stricken and he quickly takes Remus’ outstretched hands, pulling, what is presumably his boyfriend, out of reach for James. “Two Potters in one day!? Prongs, are you trying to kill me?”

James sighs, pulling Harry back against his hip which then decides to reach out his hands to Sirius, “Pafoo.”

“That’s right,” Sirius sniffs, crossing the distance and ripping Harry from James’ hold, “I love you, little stinker. You’ll get it with time, I know you will. You’re such a smart boy, Hazza.”

Harry immediately starts playing with the thin braids in Sirius’ hair and his brother swivels to level Regulus with a triumphant smirk.

“Whatever,” Regulus says, crossing his arms again.

But before jealousy, no matter over whom, can spread itself in Regulus’ chest, Sirius is stepping closer.

Regulus is certain their flip flops nearly touch and Sirius is staring at him intensely with the same eyes he sees in the mirror every day, and it makes him swallow. The freckle over Sirius’ mouth is just the same as four years ago, as is the one on Regulus’ temple. 

“There’s a baby swimming lesson at the pool I wanted to attend with Harry later at 2,” Sirius says, voice husky, “Care to join?”

Regulus was supposed to meet the others back in Barty and Evan’s room at 3 but they’re probably passed out until then anyways. “I think I can make some time,” he replies airily.

Sirius blows out a heavy breath through his nose, before slipping into a grin, “Good.”

“Good,” Regulus mimics.

“I bet Harry floats better than you,” Sirius taunts, “Do you still sink like a stone?”

“It’s amazing how much of a talent you still possess for making me regret things,” Regulus snips back.

Sirius bumps their shoulder together, making Harry giggle and Regulus purses his lips in an effort to hide his smile.

And then James is there on the other side of him, taking Harry back from Sirius and smiling sweetly down at Regulus and for some reason his cheeks feel a little warmer suddenly.

—

[also for personal reasons i need everyone to know these were the booty shorts sirius was wearing]

[xxsabitoxx]

Love, Don't Be Shy

Sweet like candy | Gojo Satoru x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Suggestive-ish content but mostly fluff

A/N: More Satoru fluffy domestic content to heal the soul.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k (exactly, may I add)

You sniffed yet another bottle of perfume, mildly thankful that you hadn’t given yourself a headache just yet. You were in desperate search of a perfume to surprise your boyfriend with, one that he would love and that would satisfy his insatiable sweet tooth. In hindsight, it would have made more sense to drag Satoru along with you. That way you’d know you picked the right perfume because he’d be there with you to tell you. But, you wanted to surprise him, so you set down the bottle you had just smelt and grabbed the coffee bean shaker yet again. Turns out coffee acts as a reset button for your nose, it was probably why you could still smell at this point. 

You reached for another bottle, grabbing a tester strip and spraying the contents twice. Shaking the paper so it would dry faster, you brought the strip to your nose and inhaled. You nearly gasped in the middle of the small store, immediately knowing that this perfume was the one. You grabbed the bottle, reading over the label and smiling as marshmallow, honeysuckle and vanilla were listed among other sweet scents. “Perfect…” you whispered triumphantly, knowing immediately that Satoru would love it. Within five minutes your two hour perfume excursion had ended and you were nearly bouncing home with the bottle in tow. 

You arrived home before him, giving you plenty of time to change into comfier clothes and practically douse yourself in the sugary sweet scent. As you threw yourself down on the couch, the front door to your shared apartment opened. “I’m home!” he called, not expecting you to be sitting on the couch. “Oh! Well hello.” he grinned at you, undoing his blindfold as he turned to shut and lock the front door. “Well hello to you too, mister.” you grinned as he tossed the blindfold on the dining table before striding across the room to practically tackle you with his affection. You laughed as he climbed on top of you, forcing you into a lying position as he nuzzled his face into your neck. You couldn’t contain your smile as you felt him freeze. 

Satoru sniffed once, twice, three times before pulling his head up to look down at you with creased brows. “You smell good, baby.” It was genuine but you could tell he was a little suspicious. “You think so?” you comment softly, hands reaching up to run through his hair. “I do, you smell really good, really sweet… I like it.” Satoru shamelessly bent down to drag his nose up your neck, smelling the perfume mixing with your natural scent. You laughed, the ticklish sensation making you squirm a bit before he stopped and placed a kiss on your jawline. “Did you buy a new perfume or something?” Still, Satoru wasn’t taking many breaks before his nose was somewhere else on your body. “I–ha–Satoru that tickles! I-I did buy a new perfume.” 

“Just for me?” he commented softly, placing a kiss on your chin, then your neck, shoulder, your sternum, inhaling each time he did. “Just for y-you…” you nearly hiccuped, having gasped in enough air to cause them. “That’s so sweet of you baby… fuck you smell amazing.” it seemed you had made the right choice, Satoru couldn’t get enough of it. “I’m so glad you think so, it wasn’t all that cheap.” you laugh again as he pushes himself up to hover over you, a goofy grin spreading across his lips as he looks down at you. “You’re fucking adorable, you know that?” That goofy grin only seemed to grow wider as you became visibly shy. “Cmon love, don’t be shy.” Satoru cooed as he leaned down to hover his lips just above yours. “You’re so perfect.” 

This time you made a noise, something like a squeak as he laughed softly. “I mean it, you’re adorable to go out and buy a perfume you’d know I like… which is also very impressive. You know me so well, baby.” Your eyes squeezed shut, unable to bear the teasing but genuine tone of his words. “Satoru…” you whined, head turning away from him just before he could slot his lips over yours. Instead, they landed against your cheek, causing him to hum in dissatisfaction. “I’ve seen every square inch of your body, I’ve been inside of your body, yet me calling you adorable, praising you, calling you love and baby has you turning into a flustered mess… I don’t get it.” He chided, laughing a little as you opened your eyes to look at him in surprise. “Satoru!” 

“It’s the truth! You get so shy when I praise you, which just makes you even more adorable.” this time he managed to land his lips on yours, humming in satisfaction as you easily gave in. It took Satoru a minute to process one other key thing, pulling away with a soft smack of his lips. “Vanilla lip balm… you’re full of surprises today.” you laughed again, smiling up at him with an equally goofy grin. “I know you love sweet things, Toru… I wanted to surprise you.” your eyes shifted over to a bag you had left by the tv stand, your empty perfume bag beside it. Satoru recognized  the bag color immediately, only one shop the two of you frequented had bags that color. “You didn’t…” he rasped out, cheeks turning pink. “Oh I did.” 

The bag was from your local “adult” store, flavored lubes were inside. “What ones did you get?” he questioned with dilated pupils, immediately intrigued by the idea. “Oh they have a ton, Toru. Salted caramel, brown sugar, vanilla, cinnamon bun, blueberry muffin, birthday cake…” he audibly groaned, shoulders shaking with laughter a moment later. “I love you.” it was so light and genuine that you could have melted on the spot. Giggling, you responded “I love you too, Toru.” You smiled as he kissed your forehead, cheeks, nose, and finally your lips before clamoring off of you to go look in the bag. “Holy shit you got them all?” all the flavors you had named plus a few fruity ones, just in case. “I did, the worker looked a little jealous.” You laughed as you sat up. 

“They had every right to be…” there was a new tone in his voice, one that had heat starting to pool in your gut. “We’re trying all of these tonight, I hope you know that.” You sighed, “Satoru, I have work in the morning.” but you knew that was a useless excuse. 

“Yeah? Looks like you’ll be calling out, baby.”

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece masterlist ౨ৎ

[ keep safe series ] // ongoing, romantic undertones, slow burn, future angst, comedic

-> "it's beautiful, how this deep normality settles down over me. i'm not bored or unhappy. i'm still so strange and wild. you're in the wind, i'm in the water. nobody's son, nobody's daughter." or, joining the strawhat pirates as luffy's childhood friend allows you to make memorie with people who started as strangers, but then became your loved ones.

playlist

๑ prologue

๑ the cursed orphan enters 彡 alabasta arc begins

๑ [name] joins the strawhats

๑ just a friendly competition...right?

๑ heartfelt conversations with a chef

๑ coffee beans

๑ i'm gonna freeze my balls off

๑ i'm gonna freeze my balls off, pt. 2

๑ crimson red icicles

๑ luffy's innate instincts (a hum of the heart)

๑ new crewmate, tony tony chopper

๑ his hand on his ankle

๑ don't you know? "lover" outweights "boyfriend"

๑ i'll kill you, i'll really kill you

๑ "together in chaos."

๑ zoro being annoyed at his captain and [name]

๑ mr. prince and mr. executioner

๑ the dogs are hounding on [name]

๑ wings that made [name] fly

๑ see you later, vivi!

❔[NAME] WIKI - ALABASTA ARC ENDS

๑ more in common than you'd think 彡 skypiea arc begins

๑ robin and [name] make a good team!

๑ we made it!

๑ [name] wants to adopt suu!

๑ that god guy thing

๑ strawhat adventure team, go!

๑ chopper's crown

๑ put a face to the name

๑ mummified [name]

๑ four hundred years is not too late

ꔛ 666 heart special for quotev -> individual one shots with each straw hat, each assigned a representative song that describes the relationship they share with [name]

๑ navarone - g8

๑ davy back fight 彡 long ring long land arc begins

-> frequently used tags:

#≡;- ꒰ ° keep safe series ꒱

#ks

#one piece fanfic

#one piece fanfiction

DOMESTICITY series // based off of keep safe characters/relationships, but can be read as standalone one shots

ꔛ sanji's special dessert -> he prepares a dessert only for you since he knows your likes and dislikes

ꔛ a shared interest among swordsmen -> rare moments of peace and quiet with zoro

ꔛ nami is working, don't interrupt -> she doesn't mind the company, especially if you're peeling her tangerines

ꔛ usopp and [name]'s conversation -> heart to heart

one piece [ smau ] // social media au

ପ strawhats misc. edition

ପ dating luffy edition

ପ dating nami edition

ପ dating sanji edition

ପ strawhat vacation edition

ପ dating zoro edition

ପ dating usopp edition

ପ dating vivi edition

ପ married to law edition

ପ married to franky edition

ପ married to robin edition

ପ dating eustass kid edition

ପ married to doflamingo edition

ପ dating ace edition

ପ married to marco edition

ପ dating sabo edition

-> frequently used tags:

#≡;- ꒰ ° smau series ꒱

#one piece smau

#one piece modern au

[ yandere ]

જ yandere zoro headcanons

જ yandere sanji headcanons

જ soft yandere luffy

જ yandere luffy

-> frequently used tags:

#≡;- ꒰ ° yandere series ꒱

#≡;- ꒰ ° yandere headcanons ꒱

[ drabbles // one shots // headcanons ]

ꔛ playlist : tender by blur [ luffy x male reader ] // based off of keep safe characters, but can read as a standalone one shot. small hints of yandere luffy. // snippet of pt.2

-> tender is the night, lying by your side. tender is the touch of someone that you love too much. tender is my heart. i'm screwing up my life. lord i need someone to who can heal my mind, or luffy and reader reminisce about their childhood memories while cuddling in merry's crow's nest.

-

SUGAR DADDY series

ꔛ in a world of boys, he's a gentleman, nami x SD male reader

ꔛ pass the test, nami x SD male reader, the one where he meets nami's friends

-

ꔛ shanks being your doting boyfriend

ꔛ random sanji headcanons

ꔛ sanji has a crush on you ♡︎

ꔛ halloween with the strawhats [platonic]

ꔛ a day in the life as a strawhat [platonic]

ꔛ rockstar ! tragalar law headcanons

ꔛ me psychoanalyzing sanji x male reader

ꔛ random individual headcanons ; includes, law, luffy and zoro

ꔛ the type of man . . .

[smoshyourheadin]

Sunshine and Soda Cans

Part 3 - Refreshing

“oh my god tell me EVERYTHING”

angela runs up to you as she hears your keys in the door, practically tackling you for information.

“okay! okay! so, well, we were editing, and then we streamed, and then i drove him to his apartment, and we kissed, and i dont know!” you retort, flopping down on the couch. “also wheres that ice-cream?” you ask her with puppy dog eyes.

“oh shoot yeah! ill grab it,” she scurries off for a minute, and returns with two bowls of vanilla ice-cream topped with strawberry slices. “here you are m’lady”

you hiss as your skin touches the cold bowl

“okay, so, how did it happen? was it good? do you think he likes you?” she begins to spew questions at you.

“one at a time jelly, jeez! okay so , it happened when we were outside his apartment, yes it was good, and i think so? maybe? i hope so at least.”

“well,” she says with a huf “if he doesn't like you he’s missing out!”

you giggle at her, and turn on tangled for the hundredth time this month, it’s your guys’ favourite. you curl up together under a blanket, and drift off.

the weekend goes on pretty smoothly, you and angela just hanging out. then monday comes around.

“cmon (y/n/n) wake up! we’re gonna be late!” you feel the mattress dipping, and rub your eyes.

“huh-“ you reply groggily, and then you realise whats happening

“ANGELA STOP JUMPING ON MY BED!” you laugh at her energy, as she flops down beside you. managing to hoist yourself out if bed, you throw on a sweatshirt and linen pants. on the way to the office, you guys stop at coffee bean for smoothies, which angela almost spills everywhere.

walking into the office, you spot spencer and give him a sweet smile. but he freezes up and just walks away.

what?

you shrug it off, and continue on through the day.

at around 2, you’re about to start shooting an aitah video with spencer and, obviously, shayne. but spencer is being really avoidant, not looking at you while kiana tells you about the shoot. so you chase him up just before the shoot, because you don’t want that tension on screen

“spencer hey,” you jog up to him in the kitchen as he grabs a mt dew kickstart. “whats up? why are you being weird with me? have i done something?” you look into his eyes as you ask him, and you can see his sadness.

“no, i just, i don't know…” he starts to trail off “i just feel like i forced you to kiss me when you didnt want to and i feel really shitty about it and i-”

“hey,” you gently grab his hands “it’s okay, it was nice. i liked it” you smile, and kiss him on the cheek, turning away to go get ready for the shoot. you feel the heat in your cheeks.

during the shoot, you and spencer share the chunky knit blanket as shayne reads you some of the most outrageous stories you’ve ever heard, and you wonder how people online are comfortable enough to say this kind of stuff

afterwards, as you begin to leave, spencer catches up with you.

“(y/n)!” he shouts, catching up with you at your desk while you pack your bag “so um, i was wondering, and obviously feel free to say no, um, if you’d want to go to the fair with me on friday night?” he looks nervous, almost as if he feels he shouldn't ask you.

“yeah, yeah that’d be nice” you smile at him, and his eyes light up at your statement. he thanks you, and says he’ll text you about it later. walking outside, you meet angela and hop in the car.

“what’s got you in a good mood? you’re only ever this quiet when you’re happy. what happened? DID SPENCER-” she begins to interrogate you as you pull out of the lot

“yes, it’s to do with spencer. he asked me on a date.”

angela gasps so loud you swear she could break glass.

“OHMYGOD FINALLY!! I THOUGHT HE WAS IGNORING YOU THIS MORNING BUT HE WAS PROBABLY JUST NERVOUS OH MY GOSH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!” she bounces in her seat, rattling the car. you laugh, leaning away from the hyperactive puppy of a best friend you have.

over the next few days, you and spencer start hanging out a lot more and get a lot closer. you find yourselves sharing longing gazes across rooms, staying up late into the night just talking about life, and discovering things about each other you didn't know. each moment you spend together feels like a lifetime, the bond between you two deepening with every laugh. and then you realise something. you wanted to spend all you time with him.

fuck.

friday evening rolls around, and you’re sat at your desk finishing an edit, and waiting for arasha to bring you a coffee, when spencer walks over to you. his hair is messy, and he’s wearing a plaid shirt tucked in his worn in dickies, with a denim jacket over the top. he looks beautiful.

“you ready to go?” he says, cocking his head slightly

“just give me a minute, im just finishing up this edit and arasha’s bringing me coffee. but feel free to hang out here while i finish up!” you say looking up at him with a smile.

you finish the edit, and arasha walks over with courtney and shayne, and coffee in her hand.

“sup lovers! (y/n) here’s your overly sweet coffee,” she sets it down on your desk, then taking a sip of her own “so, big plans tonight spencer? you’re dressed up…” arasha says slyly, raising an eyebrow

“i mean if taking (y/n) on a date is big plans then, i guess so” spencer smiles at her

“HA! I KNEW IT! IAN AND YOU OWE ME 10 BUCKS EACH” courtney fist pumps the air, and shoves shayne in the shoulder

“ugh why do you always have to be right! you suck!” he dejectedly pulls a 10 dollar note out of his back pocket, and she pinches it with a “thank-you!”. you just look at them all, mouth agape.

“you placed bets on this!?” you look at courtney in shock.

“i mean, obviously. i knew you liked him, but we placed bets on how long it would take for anything to happen. my guess was a month and a week and hey, here we are”

“huh, weirdly specific but… go you!” you smirk at her, standing up to slide your jacket on.

“well, if you’ll exuse us, we have oversized bears to win” spencer smirks and holds his hand out for you to take, as you walk out the office together.

“awh,” tommy says, walking up to the three of them who were lingering near your desk “they’re so cute together!”

“sup nerds, what are we talking about?” ian jumps in

“ian give me my 10 dollars, spencer and (y/n) are going on a date as we speak” she grins at him

“ughhhhhh, fineeeeeeeee. you’re the worst court”

you and spencer hop in the car, and drive off to the fair, and as soon as you arrive, you run and buy a tub of cotton candy.

as you walk around, arms linked with spencer, you drag him to all the shitty games that you’re convinced are rigged.

“what!! no i definitely hit that one!” you stomp your feet like an upset child at the coconut shy, frowning because you didn’t get the giant giraffe teddy.

“watch this” spencer says confidently, and you gawk at him as he hits all the targets perfectly.

“how the hell did you manage that!” you say in amazement

he just laughs and passes you the giraffe “years of playing video games sometimes pays off”

you take the giraffe, and decide to call it amanda. so obviously, you send her a picture

//

amanderp 😚

———

you: [picture of you and the giraffe]

you: guess what i named it

amanderp 😚: giraffey?

you: nope, meet amanda ;)

amanderp 😚: omg i love you!! can she live at your desk? i want to meet her 😆😆

you: of course! i’ll bring her in on monday :))

//

you and spencer continue to sort of just walk around, giggling with eachother. as the night comes to a close, you get on the ferris wheel.

“its so pretty up here” you look out across the fair, the lights dancing over peoples faces as you sit at the top.

“yeah, makes you realise how pretty other things are” you turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you. he looks at your lips, then back into your eyes. you close the distance between you both, pressing your lips together sofly, bringing your hand up to his hair and gently running your fingers through his curls. you break it apart, foreheads presses together, and he giggles

“hey whats funny!” you pout, sitting up and looking him in the eyes

“you taste like cotton candy. you taste like you. just overly sweet.”

you cant help but smile, leaning on his shoulder and lacing your fingers together. he looks down at you, and in that moment, you became his sunshine.

——————————

a/n: AHHH ITS FINISHED!! thank you all so much for the love on this series, it was so fun to write and it’s been so nice seeing your guys’ comments 💛💛 requests are open <3

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Side Effects III | Han + Chan

You're onto whatever it is that Jisung and Chan are hiding. You just have to prove it. With a hidden camera set up in your room you're ready to catch the two science nerds in the act. However it just doesn't work out that way.

•Pairing: nerdy Jisung + Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, kitchen sex, feelings of guilt, jealousy and betrayal, animal testing no rats were harmed in this work of fiction

an: sorry this one took so long. writers block was kicking my ass. slightly edited so if something doesn't make sense or needs to be fixed let me know ♡

The link to the song Amortentia that's referenced is included. For a more understanding of Jisung's feelings towards y/n give it a listen. Completely optional of course but it's truly a good song. Amortentia By, Let's Lumos ft. Oliver Boyd & The Remembralls

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

Part I • Part II

You had everything planned out. You knew exactly what you were going to do. Or so you liked to tell yourself. In reality, you were clueless and nervous as hell. What should I do? Seduce the two men and see who spills the beans first? Nah, that'd never work. Confront them with my suspicions about both of them being invisible? Without concrete evidence, they would only deny it.

“Ugh, damn it. Guess I'll just wing it,” you mutter to yourself behind the register, just as a customer walks up wanting some eccentric type of coffee.

You’ve felt Chan more than Jisung lately, so you figure it would be easier to get to him. You know he seems to like places where it's easy to get caught, like the balcony, the kitchen, or the couch. If Jisung were to ever walk out of his bedroom, he’d see you two immediately. Your eyes light up as you pass the recycled paper cup full of fresh coffee. Each time you were fucked by someone you couldn't see, it was an instinct to be as quiet as possible to not get caught… but what if you weren’t? Your mind starts running through scenarios of Jisung finding you as you come undone around some unseen man.

You argued with yourself your whole shift at the small coffee shop you work at. What if Jisung catches his best friend invisible and balls deep inside his roommate, causing a fight? Why would it, when Jisung doesn't see me that way? What if Jisung kicks you out? I'd be homeless and miserable. The cons were looking pretty convincing. You were all out of ideas, having talked yourself out of every one. It was starting to look like you'd never know what they were up to in Jisung's room, if they were actually invisible or if you were insane.

When you step into the apartment and slip off your shoes, you’re surprised to see Jisung in the kitchen. What surprises you the most is that he says something to you as you walk past the kitchen to your room. You freeze and look at him, almost wondering if you imagined him saying, “Hello” to you. Looking around, you see it's just the two of you.

“H-hey, Ji,” you respond, feeling timid and a little scared that he’ll just start ignoring you again.

He gives you a shy smile and retreats to his bedroom. Weird. He never fails to be weird, and you never expect it either. It's not like how you expect to have a visitor in your room waiting for you. You could smell the sweetness in the air the moment you stepped inside your room. To anyone else, they probably wouldn't be able to smell the difference between the vanilla of Chan and the caramel apple scent of your current favorite body lotion. Where he was in your room though, you had no idea.

Chan sat on the floor in the corner of your room by your bed, watching you. He had to find another spot to observe you from after you almost stepped on his balls two weeks ago. He discovered this corner was one you didn't go near, and it provided the best view to watch you undress. Much like right now. You meticulously removed each piece of clothing, and Chan was engrossed in the action as if it were his favorite show or movie. He didn't suspect that the way you moved had anything to do with the fact that you knew he was there. Slowly, you put on a show for Chan while still wondering how to catch them.

Does Ji know Chan is in my room? He must.

You were certain that Jisung's greeting to you was some sort of signal for Chan. It amused you, and you almost laughed out loud, but you remembered that you had eyes on you. That might not be enough to convince someone like Jisung or Chan, but it was enough for you. Nothing would get past you now that you knew you weren't crazy. Now, if only you could expose one or the other while they were invisible. Where are you? you wondered once you were completely nude. You stood there, chewing on your lip, pretending that you'd forgotten what you were supposed to be doing. A slow turn and, with a gasp, you moved to grab your towel.

Maybe if I entice him enough, he'll follow me into the shower. The steam might expose him...

It was a shot in the dark, but you didn't have a whole list of ideas. There was no guarantee that Chan would follow you into the shower, and no guarantee that the steam would make an outline like in the movies. Never once had Chan followed you into the shower. It always seemed like an easy way to get caught. Not in the way you were thinking, though. He knew you'd possibly get suspicious if he just so happened to have wet hair right after you felt something. Not to mention Jisung would be more suspicious than he is now.

Jisung had yet to question Chan about the strange, creepy smile you gave them both. He noticed how Chan's body language changed that night—how shifty and nervous Chan was, no matter how calm and collected he acted. Jisung had always been good at reading people. Well, except for you, but he attributed that to his feelings for you. Jisung just couldn't understand why Chan suddenly started acting weird. Surely if he were experiencing any side effects, he'd report them so they could work on them. Chan wasn't the type to keep things like that to himself. Not with something as important as this. This elixir, once perfected, would make them billionaires. That outcome was so close Jisung could hear the announcement of him getting a Nobel Peace Prize.

Chan continuously tries to fight the urges, running tests of his own that Jisung doesn't even know about. Every night, he tries a new combination of vitamins and over-the-counter pills. In his own time, he researches anything that would lower a person's libido and, in a healthy, safe way, tries each one himself. So far, nothing has worked. The only change is that he's getting a good daily dose of vitamins and a hell of a workout with you. It's even a mental workout just trying to resist you when you choose to walk around your bedroom completely naked, like you're inviting him to fuck you. You are, but Chan doesn't have a clue.

There's no way you would ever think that he was the one that was balls deep inside whatever hole of yours he decided he needed to fill that night. But smell is such a powerful thing. You could smell something you hadn't gotten a whiff of in twenty years, but one breeze past you will bring up a whole memory you could've sworn you forgot about. You put a lot of effort into that cologne for Chan. You paid close attention to how he smelled weeks before you settled on that specific one. The smell of smoky vanilla always reminds you of his hugs. The warmth and sweetness surround you. It brought you comfort. It still does; only now it also makes you wet. Like your body knows once you smell him, he'll be fucking you into another dimension.

So while Chan would love nothing more than to fuck you hard up against the slippery, wet tiles of your shower, he remains in the same spot, all while his precum leaks heavily from his hard length. He refuses to even touch himself. It would do him no good anyway; he'd still be hard as hell and insanely horny. He even tries to resist the temptation to feel you. You were still dripping wet from your shower when you walked back with the towel wrapped around you. You half-expected Chan to have left, but the soft shuffling sound that quietly creeps closer gets louder. The smell of vanilla fills the space around you, and you struggle to pretend you're unaware. Without thinking and without any warning, you scream loudly, hysterically calling for both Jisung and Chan.

Jisung bursts into your room without hesitation, making your heart swell. The way his cheeks turn red at the sight of you gives him a cute, innocent look, all wide-eyed, wearing his round glasses and lab coat. You have to bite your tongue to hide your smile. Instead, you pout and run to him, grabbing his arm.

"Ji, oh my god! I just saw this massive spider in the corner. I… I don't know where it went, though. Where's Chan? I know he usually takes them outside." You lay the damsel-in-distress act on thick.

You cling to his arm, your breast pressing firmly into his biceps. He shifts on his feet, looking around your room, likely for Chan instead of the imaginary spider. Jisung can feel his heart thundering in his chest, and his cock rapidly growing harder. It's been a while since he's taken the elixir, and although that wasn't easy, lusting over you and desiring you seems to only grow since he already felt you under him and around him.

“Oh, uh, I'll, um. I'll look,” he stammers, moving out of your arms, though he'd rather be fucking you up against the wall behind you both.

“Thanks, Jisung. Dunno what I'd do without you,” you tell him. Your voice is soft and delicate, which only makes Jisung struggle even more.

Chan uses this opportunity to slip out of the open door before the effects wear off, while Jisung hesitantly walks toward your bed, looking for the bug, scared and horny. A loud thud startles both you and Jisung, and you both turn toward the door, seeing nothing, though you hear the faint whisper of a few curse words in a very familiar accent.

“I'm not seeing it, Y/N. Maybe it crawled away,” Jisung says loudly as a distraction from the foot of your bed.

With an amused smile, you look back at him, and his throat feels suddenly tight. With you just in a towel, hair damp, and in the same spot where he was inside of you, he feels overwhelmed. So many emotions are running rampant inside of him. He just stares at you, lost in the memory of when he first felt your walls hugging his cock tight. With his faraway stare, you wonder if he's thinking about the last time he was in your room. Back when you had no clue and seriously thought you were insane. When you can prove your suspicions, then you'll deal with the fact that they both let you believe the place was haunted or that your brain was fried from working too much. You take a couple of steps over to Jisung and gently touch his arm. He hasn't jumped away from you like before, but he does look at you with such an intense expression that you almost step away from him.

“Ji? Are you good?” you ask, looking him directly in the eyes. He swallows hard, his breathing coming out in quiet huffs.

He prays your eyes don't stray and travel any further than his face. He'd be mortified if you noticed the very prominent bulge he's got right now hidden behind his dark basketball shorts. It's painful just how hard he is, and with each angry pulsation, he fears that he might cum right here in front of you.

“Yeah, I'm... I'm alright, just tired.” He clears his throat and starts to walk to the door.

You feel panic blossom in your chest. What if he goes back to being distant? The thought makes you reach out to him, grabbing the wrinkled white lab coat. Jisung looks over his shoulder, and his heart drops seeing the fear and sadness in your eyes. He knows he's been a huge dick to you, but he figured that would make being away from you easier. Yet he was wrong. He missed your company far more than he missed your tight, wet, perfect cunt. Before his mind can drift off again, you speak up.

“U-uh… I was wondering if you wanted to order from Collision? I know how you love the food there. My treat?” He nods, and his lips perk up into a small smile.

“Sounds good, sweetie. My treat, though, okay? I'll get our usual.”

And then he leaves your room, shutting the door gently behind him. Bewildered is far too weak of a word to describe how you're feeling while you just stand there in the middle of your room with a stupid shocked expression. Jisung has gone back to how he was with you overnight, and it makes you anxious for some reason. Like something big is going to happen really, really soon…

Chan is walking out of Jisung's bathroom when he steps back into his domain. He locks the door and just stares at his friend.

“Uh, sup? Why are you looking at me so weirdly?” Chan asks, chuckling nervously.

“You did it too, didn't you?” Jisung whispers, looking at Chan, who has panic flash across his face.

“No! What? Why would…” Chan trails off, quickly accepting defeat.

“Not while she was sleeping, no.” He finally admits and watches as his best friend walks over to the bed and flops down with an oof.

“Listen Ji, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do all the things that I knew were the right things to do.” Chan continues, unmoving from his spot in front of Jisung's bathroom door.

“No, I get it. The elixir. This side effect is strange. I don't even know how to describe it, let alone study it.” Jisung inhales deeply and sighs. “On top of that, we're so close to making it last longer than twenty minutes too. I can feel it.”

Chan moves, walking over to the air mattress and carefully sitting down, feeling guilty and also proud of their hard work. He opens his mouth to apologize at least six more times, but when Jisung speaks, he's unable to find his voice.

“Did she like it? You said she was never asleep. She must've wanted it, so she must've enjoyed it. Stupid question…”

His statement hangs in the air like cigarette smoke. Heavy, lingering, suffocating. Chan, with his guilt and desires eating at him, and Jisung's heart hurting due to the unspoken love that he has for you. He wants to be mad at Chan. Shit, he is mad at Chan, but he really understands. Though the little green demon called jealousy is constantly tapping on his ear, telling him that now he's got no chance with you. All the girls love Chan, despite him being just as nerdy as Jisung. With his chiseled abs and jawline, the perfect dimpled smile and accent, the girls at school always had eyes on him. So what's to say you won't fall for Chan now that he's fucked you who knows how many times. Jisung can't bring himself to even ask for a number.

“I try to fight it, Ji. I really try. In the beginning, it was easy, but something shifted… no, cracked in me. One night, she was talking in her sleep. But that talking soon turned to moaning, and at the time, I still felt normal. Until she got… close.” His voice gets quiet, and he trails off.

“Was that the, uh, first time you and her?” Jisung asks, and Chan shakes his head in reply.

“When she, uh, finished in her sleep, she moaned your name, Ji. I know you don't think you deserve her, but you're wrong.”

It's not much, but Chan's words soothe the green-eyed demon that was festering away at Jisung's heart.

Nodding and with a loud exhale, Jisung stands up. “Alright, let's get to work. I know for sure there's a way to tackle the effects as well as lengthen it. We just need to think further out of the box,” he announces, pulling out his phone. “But first, I need to order food.”

That night after dinner, things started to look up for you. Though you don't have any proof yet, Jisung seems to be coming around. You're not back to how things were, but at least he isn't running away from your presence. You sigh and roll onto your back, hitting the yellow "buy now" button on your phone. By the time you get home from work tomorrow, you'll have a wireless discreet camera. A victorious smile spreads across your face as you think, “Gotcha.”

You set your phone aside, the screen dimming as you rise from the bed. The soft rustle of the sheets and the creak of the mattress punctuate the quiet. You can feel him watching you, his gaze almost tangible against your skin. Your heart quickens, not with fear but with excitement, the anticipation of what’s to come making your pulse race.

Slowly, you begin to undress, your movements deliberate and unhurried. The fabric of your clothes slides against your skin, a soft whisper of cotton and lace. You hear a faint, almost inaudible intake of breath, and you smile, knowing the effect you’re having on him.

The room is cool, the air from the open window sending gentle chills across your exposed skin. You can almost feel his presence drawing closer, the warmth of his body cutting through the coolness. Your breath hitches as you feel the first tentative touch – a soft, barely-there caress along your arm, trailing down to your wrist. It’s as if the air itself has come alive, brushing against you with a lover’s touch.

You don’t flinch or pull away; instead, you lean into it, letting your eyes flutter closed as you savor the sensation. His touch grows bolder, more confident, sliding up your arm to your shoulder, tracing the curve of your collarbone. You shiver, a sigh escaping your lips. The feel of his hands – warm, soft – skimming across your body with a reverence that makes you ache.

Chan moves closer, the scent of vanilla intensifying, mingling with the smell of cake batter from your body wash. You can feel his breath now, warm against your neck, goosebumps up and down your arms and legs. His lips follow, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You tilt your head, giving him better access, your fingers threading through the air where you know his hair must be. The sensation is surreal; you've never let your hands roam too much before. You feel his hair through your fingers and his hands on your hips, pulling you closer, his body solid and real against yours despite the invisibility.

The room is filled with the sounds of your shared breaths, the quiet breeze, the faint rustle of sheets as he guides you back to the bed. You lie down, heart pounding in your chest.

His hands are on you again, sliding up your thighs, parting your legs with a gentle insistence. You gasp as his fingers find your core, slick and ready, the sensation electric. He teases you, his touch light and maddening, drawing soft whimpers from your lips.

"Please," you breathe, your voice a desperate plea. There’s a moment of stillness and then he’s on you, in you, filling you with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you cry out.

The world narrows to the two of you, the sensation of him moving inside you, the slippery sounds of your bodies coming together, the taste of his kiss on your lips. Every touch, every caress, every thrust sends sparks of electricity through your veins.

You cling to him, your fingers digging into the air where his shoulders must be, your body arching into his. His pace quickens, the rhythm of his movements matching the frantic beating of your heart. You can feel the tension coiling inside you, tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

With a final, desperate thrust, you come undone, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm. He follows you over the edge, his own release a silent shudder that you feel rather than hear. For a moment, you lie there, your bodies entwined, the air around you heavy with the scent of vanilla and sex.

As you catch your breath, you feel him begin to pull away, the warmth of his body retreating. You reach out, your fingers brushing against nothing but air, a wistful smile on your lips. The room settles back into its quiet stillness. You reach for your phone, the glow of the shipping tracker on the screen lighting up your face once more. For now, you’ll play their game, savoring every touch, every stolen moment. But soon, you’ll have the evidence you need to confront them, to bring their little experiment out into the open.

"Ready to come clean, boys?" you think to yourself, feeling Chan's eyes on you, waiting for the moment he can slip away. He finds that moment when you go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Just in time too, as the effects wear off right as he steps out, coming face to face with Jisung.

“"I'm sorry," Chan whispers, letting his head fall.

There's no need to ask how long he's been standing there or if he heard your moaning. The flexing of his jaw muscle and the steady breathing to keep himself from doing anything he'd regret speak volumes. Chan suggests they should scrap everything and start over. He can't stand the hurt look on Jisung's face; he's like a little brother to him. Never in a million years would he ever hurt him.

“No. We're not far from the end; we can't give up now,” Jisung says quietly, moving away from your door and towards his own as Chan follows. “I know the feeling of not being in control, and with you taking a higher dose than I was… well, I get it. Let's just finish this up as quickly as possible.” Chan mutters a defeated-sounding agreement and trails after him like a sad puppy.

When you get home from work, you find the package containing your new camera. You retreat into your room quickly to set it up. You smile to yourself as you angle it so that it's pointing towards your bed and the bedroom door. At one point, you even thought to rig up some contraption above your door that would dump flour on them when they walked in, but you thought better of it. With your luck, you'd be the one covered in white instead of Chan or Jisung. Though… you still just might be. When you walk out of your room, you see Jisung and Chan talking in front of the door with Channie's bags in his hand.

“You leaving us, Channie?” you ask, worried that you missed the opportunity to catch him on camera and that you just set everything up for nothing.

“Don't worry, I'll be back to bug you two soon. My cousin's having a grand opening for his restaurant in Australia, so I'll be gone for the weekend.” He explains, his eyes darting to his friend nervously. “Stay out of trouble,” he tells Jisung and looks back at you. “Both of you.”

You give him a lazy salute and smile. “Yes, sir,” you respond and walk into the kitchen.

Just you and Jisung for the weekend… This could go either really well or really badly.

The first night was a bit awkward. Jisung is distant again, but not as much as before. He seems to try and talk to you more, but you can see he isn't always fully present in the conversation.

It's not that he isn't paying attention or finds what you are talking about boring. It's the flashbacks that he struggles with around you. The temptation of taking the liquid just to feel you again. He misses how you felt, the sounds he would make you make. Every time he is with you, talking about whatever, it’s almost like he can practically feel you bear hug his cock with your greedy cunt.

The second night isn't any easier, and most of the time, Jisung is in his room, tweaking and testing the elixir on more borrowed rats. Each time he hears you shuffling around the apartment, he wants to chug the whole test tube of the faint aqua liquid.

Those two days, however, you feel defeated. You keep thinking that you wasted money and time on the camera that sits hidden in your room out of sight. In a moment of frustration, you disconnect the device with an annoyed growl.

“Fuck this,” you sigh and sit on the edge of your bed. “Back to the drawing board, I guess. Maybe… maybe I could take a peek inside his room?”

The brainstorming with yourself only keeps coming to a brick wall. The camera was the answer, or so you thought. Now, without anything happening, you figure you missed your window to catch them in the act.

It's Saturday evening, and you've seen Jisung only a few times. You start to worry that he's gone back to his weird avoidance towards you again.

“Hmph. It's not like I have cooties or something,” you mumble, rolling your eyes as you walk into the kitchen, just barely catching a glimpse of your roommate before he hurries into his room.

It's true that he's avoiding you, but at that particular moment, he just didn't want you to see that he had snuck out of the kitchen with your espresso extract. You'd kill him if you knew he was going to use all of it in the name of science. No matter how many times he told himself that it's for a “good cause,” he knows not to come between you and your coffee. Lucky for him, you already had your cup for the day and wouldn't notice that it's missing until tomorrow. Plenty of time for him to replace it.

The idea of adding a strong espresso to the elixir had immediately popped into his head at random. He could feel the light bulb over his head glowing brightly. It was such a simple idea, but he was more than positive that this was what they needed to lengthen the invisibility timeframe.

The tiny white rat squeaked from inside the metal cage that sat on his cluttered desk when he sat down. Its nose twitched curiously, sniffing the air as the strong smell of coffee filled the room. Jisung's glasses slowly slid down his nose, but he was too focused on measuring and mixing to be bothered by it or even adjust them.

“This is it,” he whispered under his breath, eyes sparkling with excitement.

With a glass dropper in his hand, he watched as the now grayish-teal elixir filled the tube. A couple of drops fed to the rat, he started the timer on his phone. Jisung could hear you outside his room singing. It was muffled, but just the sound of you working with the experiment made him hard.

“Maybe if I... No! I promised Chan.” Jisung took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the cage that seemed to be empty.

The occasional squeak and the cage bedding being kicked up was evidence that the rat was indeed still there and still doing just fine. More squeaks from the cage woke Jisung, who had dozed off, and he checked his phone. Thirty-five minutes and the rat was still invisible. He jumped up out of his chair, startling the rodent, who jumped and squeaked some more.

“I did it,” he said out loud. “I fucking did it.”

Only problem now, how will it react with something bigger? Sure, he promised Chan he would stay out of trouble, but this is important. He can't possibly wait until tomorrow when Chan gets home and then wait for him to make it to the apartment. He'd just have to fight the urges. Maybe the espresso canceled out the weird side effects anyway. He had to know how this new version of the elixir would do on a human.

He watched the dark liquid swirl in the flask, heart racing with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, he downed the elixir, the bitter taste masked slightly by the coffee. The invisibility kicked in almost immediately, but what he didn't anticipate was the overpowering surge of arousal that came with it. Every nerve in his body was tingling, his cock painfully hard. He was amazed and a little terrified by the intensity.

He paced in his room with a stopwatch in hand as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was invisible, but the arousal was overwhelming. It had never been this intense before. He checked the mirror obsessively, waiting for any sign of the elixir wearing off, but it didn't happen. Twenty minutes passed, and he was still invisible, still hard, and it was only getting worse. He should be happy that his brilliant idea worked, only if he wasn't going mad.

Then, he heard it. Your voice, soft and innocent, singing in the kitchen. You were singing that old song from Let's Lumos, the one you were obsessed with, "Amortentia." The lyrics hit him hard, mirroring his own hidden feelings for you.

Before he could think, he was moving. The kitchen came into view, and there you were. You were lost in the song, unaware of his presence. His breath caught as he watched you from the kitchen doorway, invisible but so very present. The desire gnawed at him, rational thought slipping away. He moved silently, driven by an overwhelming need to be close to you. Suddenly, without realizing it, he was standing right behind you, the proximity making his breath hitch.

He snatched the headphones off your head, tossing them over the kitchen counter. You yelped, spinning around to face nothing.

“Ji?” you whispered, your eyes flicking around the room.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound, before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was intense, searing, consuming you whole. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you close, and you moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled and desperate. When he finally pulled back, you gasped, inhaling deeply like you’d been deprived of oxygen.

“I’ve missed these lips,” he murmured against your skin. One hand slipped inside the front of your shorts, cupping your sex. “I’ve missed these lips even more.”

You gasped, feeling his middle finger slip inside you, your body arching into his touch. His name passed your lips in a hushed whisper, making him groan.

“Fuck, you’re smart. Makes you even sexier. Can I have you, Y/N? Hm? Not Chan, just me.” He slipped another finger inside you, and you cried out, clinging to him.

“Yes!” you gasped loudly. “I’m yours.”

His fingers were gone, and your pajama pants were pulled down. You barely had time to think before he was lifting you onto the counter, his mouth on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. Every touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

His name fell from your lips over and over, each time like a prayer, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed your body.

“Needed you so bad, Y/N. Needed you for so long,” he whispered against your skin. “God, you have no idea.”

You gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing him as much as he needed you. “Show me,” you breathed. “Show me how much.”

You felt his hands on you again, rougher now, more insistent. His cock pressed against you, hot and demanding, and you shivered with anticipation.

“Jisung…” you whispered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, needing him closer, deeper.

He kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue tangling with yours. He entered you in one swift motion, and you cried out, the sensation overwhelming. He was everywhere, all at once, filling you completely. His thrusts were urgent, desperate, each one making you feel like putty in his arms.

“God, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You feel so good.”

The kitchen faded away, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. You didn’t even notice the moment you could see him. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust was like a fire, burning away everything but the raw, intense connection between you.

You lost track of time, the only thing that mattered was the way he felt inside you, the way he made you feel. His whispered words of desire, his hands on your body, his lips on your skin. It was all-consuming, a perfect storm of sensation and emotion that left you breathless.

You could barely think, barely breathe, the pleasure building and building until it crashed over you in waves. You came apart in his arms, crying out his name, and he followed soon after, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

You were both panting, clinging to each other as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

He helped you off the counter, pulling you into his arms. Together, as he carried you, you made your way to the couch and wrapped yourselves in a blanket. The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of his arms around you and his heartbeat against your ear.

Hours later, the sound of the door opening jerked you awake. You blinked groggily, realizing that Chan was standing in the doorway, his eyes wide in shock at the sight of you and Jisung, naked and in each other’s arms.

“Guys…?” he said, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

The blanket slipped slightly, revealing the state of your undress, and you hurried to cover up, as if he hadn't seen you naked for the past month.

“Uh… I can explain…” Jisung started, but Chan just raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Chan said, shaking his head. “Guess we need to talk about this, aye?”

You stepped into Jisung's room, your eyes scanning the cluttered space. "Okay, I need to know what you're working on," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Chan looked at Jisung, eyebrows raised in question. Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She found out on her own..."

"Please," you interrupted, your voice breaking. "I need to understand."

Jisung exchanged a look with Chan, who nodded slightly. "Okay," Jisung said, motioning for you to sit. "But you have to promise to keep an open mind."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. Jisung began to explain, his words technical and complicated. But the gist was clear: they'd created an elixir that grants invisibility. As he spoke, the pieces started to fall into place—the strange occurrences, the feeling of being watched, the vivid dreams.

"So, you're saying... you’ve been invisible this entire time?" you ask, disbelief coloring your tone.

Jisung nods, looking down at his hands. "Yes. We've been testing it, trying to perfect it."

"So the... dreams?" you whisper, not sure you want to hear the answer.

He hesitates, then looks up, meeting your eyes. "That was me."

Your breath catches in your throat. The room spins, and you feel a surge of anger and betrayal. "You... you lied to me, Ji. I was terrified for weeks, thinking I was haunted."

Jisung’s face crumples, and he looks away, shame evident in his posture. "I'm sorry. I never meant for any of that to happen. It started out as a joke. But the side effects… it got carried away.”

Chan stands, his face a mix of shame and disappointment. "I'm sorry too, y/n.” You turn to him, having been waiting for him to say something. “It wasn't just Jisung. I don't know what came over us, but I do know it wasn't something we could control."

Jisung buries his face in his hands. "We fucked up. I fucked up."

You stand, trembling with rage and hurt. "Et tu, Channie?" you say, your voice barely more than a whisper as you look at the curly-haired man who avoids your eye. "How could you guys lie?"

Jisung looks up, tears in his eyes. "I’m so sorry, y/n. I’ll do anything to make it right."

You shake your head, backing towards the door. "I need a moment," you say, your voice hollow. "I can't think."

You walk out of the room and leave the apartment, the weight of Chan and Jisung's betrayal crashing down on you. Outside, the night air is cool and soothing, the feeling of autumn approaching, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you. You walk aimlessly, trying to clear your head, but the pain and confusion follow you.

Back at the apartment, Jisung sits in his room, staring at the door you just left through. Chan stands beside him, silent and disapproving. "We need to fix this," Chan says finally. "We have to make this right, man."

Jisung nods, but deep down, he knows it won’t be that simple. They crossed a line that can never be uncrossed, and the consequences of their actions are only just beginning to unfold.

When you step back into the apartment, you see the backs of Jisung and Chan out on the balcony. The glass door muffles the sounds of their conversation and your footsteps as you walk towards them. Behind the glass, you see tall flames in front of them, and you panic. They've finally done it, you think. They've finally set something on fire. Sliding the door open with speed, the two men turn around quickly, both startled by you.

“What the hell did you burn?!” you ask, looking at both of them.

“Nothing yet,” Jisung says, pointing to the table where every piece of their experiment sits. The notes, every drop of liquid, and even the failed experiments.

“We talked a lot, y/n, and we came to the mutual decision to destroy everything. It's not worth it if it means destroying anything with you,” Chan says, bringing you to tears.

“We would hug you, but the side effects have some lingering symptoms. You're very difficult to be around, let alone touch, right now. Sorry, y/n.” Chan tells you, and Jisung awkwardly coughs, which makes you laugh.

“Listen. Maybe you don't have to destroy it. Maybe you could change it to be some kind of sex enhancement drug? Doesn't sound too difficult for you two.” You appreciate that they'd actually destroy something that could make them billionaires. “How about calling it Love? That's cute, right?”

“Fuck, y/n. Your brain is so fucking sexy.” Jisung grumbles, scrubbing his hands over his face and up into his hair, making you blush and giggle.

“About time you two stop this silent mutual pining,” Chan says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's wait for the stuff to get out of our system before that, maybe.” Jisung laughs and smiles your way. “I mean, if you want to, of course.”

“Ji, of course I do. I told you, I'm yours.” You reassure him, watching his cheeks turn red and ignoring Chan's dramatics pretending to gag.

“Okay, lovebirds, let's get this stuff back inside if we aren't getting rid of it, yeah? Gotta figure out where to store it before we start y/n’s genius idea.”

“I kinda like the side effects.” You say timidly, and both men look at you in surprise and you laugh.

You help them carry everything back inside, feeling a new sense of calm. Once everything is safely stored and locked in a crate that only you have the key to, the three of you head back into the apartment, the door sliding shut behind you. Jisung and Chan exchange a glance, both knowing that their bond with you, though strained, is far from broken.

"We’ll figure it out," Jisung says softly, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Now that there are no secrets."

You nod, smiling, "No secrets."

And for the first time in weeks, you feel a glimmer of optimism. The experiment may have changed everything, but it also brought a truth to light that you and Jisung needed to face. Now, you can rebuild the trust that was lost.

As the night deepens, you find comfort in the fact that, despite everything, you're happy. And if that's a side effect, then you'll gladly endure it all.

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