#it kinda uh. blows up in their face

[bangcakes]

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[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

[zweigsangel]

ex fratboy! chris. smut-angst. 1.8k words.

it’s one of those late nights, and you’re standing there in the middle of a way-too-crowded, kinda messy party that, honestly, you only came to ‘cause your friends dragged you here. the air's thick with too many people, bad beer, and random songs blaring loud enough to drown out any thoughts you might’ve had. and that’s when you see him: chris. the ex you swore you were over. but like, really, are you?

it’s weird though, ‘cause he’s just chilling across the room, laughing too loud, his arm around some guy you don’t recognize, talking animatedly about god knows what. he’s got that same stupid, loose stance, shoulders relaxed, wearing that hoodie he always wore, the one you’d stolen a million times. you think— hope, he hasn’t noticed you, so you kinda try to blend in, sticking close to the wall, pretending to check your phone.

you weren’t always like this, all distant and tense. you’d meet up after his frat meetings, and he’d tell you all these wild stories about his brothers, like the time they tried building a slip n’ slide down the staircase and ended up getting written up by their advisor. you’d just sit there laughing so hard you’d cry, and he’d look at you like nothing in the world could ever compare. and for a while, it felt like he was it. but it ended, kinda messy, mostly because chris was…well, chris. he’d blow off plans, flirt with people at parties, and honestly, it just felt like he didn’t know what he wanted. or maybe he did, and it just wasn’t you. he’d show up late and drunk, ramble on about his deep thoughts on the universe, and then disappear for days, leaving you feeling like some kind of afterthought. eventually, you got tired of being the whenever person, so you cut it off. even if it hurt.

it’s been a few months now, and you’re doing your thing—focusing on classes, seeing friends, trying to move on.

but nah. of course he sees you.

“yo, wait up,” he calls, weaving his way through people, looking right at you. you try to act casual, like this isn’t a big deal, like you don’t feel your stomach flip. he stops in front of you, that grin still hanging on his face. “hey,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “long time no see, huh?”

“yeah, well, been busy,” you reply, shrugging. it sounds casual enough, but he’s still looking at you like he’s trying to read something on your face.

“you look good,” he says after a pause, and it’s so out of character for him to just say something like that, straight-up, that it throws you off for a second “uh...thanks?” you laugh, awkwardly. you know he’s probably just trying to be friendly, but you can’t help wondering if there’s more to it. “so...you still doing the same old chris thing?”

he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away for a second. “i guess so,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. and then he kinda sighs, like he’s tired of the frat boy act, or maybe just tired of himself. “been, uh…been thinkin’ about you,” he admits, his voice low. “more than i probably should.”

you try to brush it off, folding your arms to keep your cool. “oh, yeah? that’s, uh, new.”

“i know, i know, i messed up,” he says, sighing. “just…never got you outta my head, y’know?” you can feel yourself softening despite everything. “yeah, well, maybe you should’ve tried harder.”

he looks at you, his eyes searching yours, and there’s this vulnerability there, like he’s finally ready to admit something he’s been holding back. “you think i didn’t? trust me, i tried. i just…i dunno. couldn’t do it.”

you don’t want to care, don’t want to feel that old pull, but it’s there, creeping up on you. he steps closer, barely an inch between you now, his gaze never leaving yours. “you want me to back off?” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. “just tell me, and i will.”

you could tell him to go. could shut this down, walk away, stay done with him. but instead, you shake your head, just a tiny movement, and he lets out a soft breath, like he’s been holding it in. before you can think, his hand’s on your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over your hip, pulling you closer.

the kiss starts slow, tentative, his lips brushing over yours like he’s testing if this is real. then his hand moves up, slipping around your back, and it’s like something inside you snaps. you grab the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low sound, his grip on you tightening as he presses his body against yours, his mouth moving over yours with more intensity.

“missed you,” he whispers against your lips, his voice rough, desperate. you barely register the words, just feel the heat rising between you two, feel his hands sliding lower, pulling you against him, his fingers firm on your waist, his mouth moving along your jaw, down to your neck, sending shivers through you. you tug him toward the hallway, away from the crowded room, and he follows, his hand gripping yours, letting you lead him through the maze of people until you push open the bathroom door, dragging him inside.

the space is cramped and a little dingy, but you don’t care. the second the door clicks shut, his hands are on you, pushing you gently but firmly against the door. his mouth crashes into yours, hot and urgent, and your hands find their way under his hoodie, slipping over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. you tug the hoodie off him, and he lifts his arms to help you, tossing it aside without a second thought, his hands already back on you, roaming down your sides, exploring every inch.

he kisses you harder, more intense, his lips pressing down your neck, his hands slipping under your top, that quickly joins the hoodie on the floor.

“god, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl. “yeah? thought you forgot about me,” you tease, but there’s no real bite to your words. it’s playful, but you both know the truth behind it.

“never forgot. couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you,” he admits, his hands sliding up to your bra, deft fingers working to unclasp it. you feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves as it falls away, and his hands are on your bare skin, exploring, his touch igniting every nerve in your body.

“you’re, uh…sure about this?” he murmurs, his voice low, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. you don’t even hesitate. “yeah,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

he lets out a soft, almost relieved sound, and his mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time, like he’s been holding back and can’t anymore. his hands slide down, finding the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down, his touch steady and deliberate, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. you step out of it, your pulse racing as his hands explore you, pulling you closer, pressing you against him.

you tug at his belt, fingers fumbling, but he’s already helping, working the buckle loose, kicking off his jeans. he’s back against you in a second, his hands on your hips, his lips trailing down your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers in their wake.

he lifts you, setting you on the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist. “you okay?” he asks, checking in, “yeah, jus’ do it,” you whisper, barely able to hold back the urge to pull him closer, “please.”

he’s kissing you again, his mouth moving against yours as you feel him press against you, hot and hard, and you let out a soft gasp. “need you,” he murmurs, almost pleading, and that raw honesty sends a thrill through you. you nod, breathless, and he positions himself, sliding inside you slowly, giving you a moment to adjust. it feels incredible, every inch of him fitting perfectly, like he was made for you.

“god, you’re so tight,” he groans, burying his face in your neck, and the sound of his voice makes you moan softly. as he starts moving, the rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, and you feel every thrust, every movement building inside you. he’s murmuring your name, breathless, and the heat between you is consuming. you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling him in deeper, urging him to go faster.

“yeah? you like that?” he asks, his breath hot against your skin as he quickens the pace. it feels electric, every thrust sending shockwaves through you, and you nod, lost in the sensation.

“so good, chris,” you moan, the words tumbling out as you feel that familiar coil tightening deep inside you. he leans back, looking at you with those dark, intense eyes, and it drives you wild. “gonna make you feel good, okay?” he says, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes your heart race.

with each thrust, the world outside fades away. it’s just the two of you, the heat of the moment enveloping you, and you feel that sweet pressure building, your body responding to every touch, every whisper, until you’re trembling around him, ready to fall apart.

“come on, babe,” he encourages, his voice low and rough, and you can hear the strain in it as he moves faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “can’t hold on much longer,” you breathe, feeling that familiar rush as he hits just the right spot, sending you spiraling.

“let go for me,” he says, his voice thick with desire, and the way he looks at you, his eyes dark and hungry, pushes you over the edge. with a loud gasp, you’re coming undone, waves of pleasure crashing over you, and he follows right after, burying himself deep as he lets go. the sound of his voice, mixed with yours, fills the tiny bathroom, and in that moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other, together again in a way you thought you’d never be.

as you both come down from the high, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. he doesn’t say anything, just lets the silence settle between you, a quiet, unspoken apology wrapped up in the way he looks at you, his eyes softer than you remember, like maybe he’s finally realized what he’s been missing all along.

and for now, it’s enough to let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

[daycourtofficial]

Rejection

Summary: After some drinks, Azriel finds out you’ve been keeping a secret from him.

Author’s note: hehe what kinda crack was I given I hope yall feel fed these days

“Nothing stings quite like rejection,” you say, taking another sip from your class. A loud laugh fills the air.

“There’s no way you’ve ever been rejected,” Cassian tells you, popping open another bottle of wine.

You roll your eyes, “I’ve been rejected before, Cass.”

Cassian doesn’t look at you as he pries the cork out of the bottle, foregoing a glass and drinking straight from the bottle before he says, “by who? Someone blind who can’t smell?”

You’re taken aback, “by someone who can’t smell?”

He shrugs, “you smell really nice.”

You smile a little, “thank you?”

“Who was it?” Feyre asks from the other side of Cassian, moving her legs beneath her.

You, Cassian, Feyre, Nesta, and Azriel were lounging around the sitting room, each drinking from a bottle of wine, reminiscing on past love lives.

Azriel looks at you as your cheeks heat, telling her, “it’s too embarassing, you’ll laugh.”

“Were they out of your league?” Nesta asks, intrigued by the new topic.

You gulp down your wine, making eye contact with her steely gaze, “uh, yes, definitely.”

Cassian’s laugh is boisterous as he claps your back, “well tell us. Who could be out of your league?”

Feyre laughs, “yeah I think we need to know so we can go see this perfect specimen.”

Your face is even redder, at both the compliment and knowing who it was. You sigh, knowing they’ll never give up until they find out who it was.

“Okay fine,” you say, breathing in deeply. “A few decades ago, after a high lord’s meeting, I asked someone out, they agreed, and then they didn’t show up.”

“Ouuuuuuch,” Cassian drawls, “what an idiot. That hurts worse than being told no.”

“Yeah,” you respond, “it was embarrassing, but I don’t harbor any bad feelings about them.”

You turn to see Feyre thinking about something. “If it was at a high lords meeting, surely we know them then?” Feyre asks.

Your heart begins beating out of your chest, “oh, you definitely know him.”

“It’s a him! It’s a him!” Cassian shouts as you finish off your wine, opening a new bottle.

Rhys strolls into the room at all the commotion, looking as his family devours his wine collection.

“What’s the point in buying all this wine if you all drink it without me?” He strolls towards Feyre, kissing her on the head before sitting next to her.

“She was just about to tell us about when she got stood up for a date after a high lord’s meeting.”

“Ah,” Rhys says, “when you asked out Azriel.”

Everyone stills, and your eyes are glued on the drink in your hand. The blood is rushing through your ears, but you make out a soft what amongst the noise.

Cassian throws his head back laughing, “you asked out Az? And he stood you up?”

His laugh is booming through the room, but not for the reason you think. You fold into yourself a bit, shoulders sagging as Cassian says, “that’s cold, brother.”

Azriel does not address his brother’s taunts, eyes focused on you.

“You never asked me out.”

“Yes I did. I asked you out to this bar, you said yes, and I waited there for a bit before giving up.”

“No you didn’t,” he says, pouring through his memories of all the meetings he’s attended over the years.

“Az, it’s fine. There are no hard feelings. You changed your mind or didn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying no.”

“No it’s not fine. I would have been there.”

You finally, finally look up at him.

Az turns his attention from you to Rhys, “how did you know she asked me out but I didn’t? What high lord meeting even was this?”

Rhys waves his hand, “it was before Amarantha.”

Feyre tenses at the name, but Rhys goes on.

“During a break I heard her ask you out, but Beron began speaking to me about something, pulling my attention away. I assumed you two went out and there just wasn’t anything there.”

“Which meeting was this?” Azriel asks.

Rhys blows out a breath, “Tarquin’s father wanted to talk about Amarantha and the threat she posed. We were in Dawn for close to a week with discussions that led nowhere.”

You wanted the ground to open a riff and swallow you whole. You even sent Feyre some thoughts.

I’ll give you anything if you kill me right here.

Her melodic laugh fills your mind.

Az adores you, though. I’m shocked he didn’t show up.

She pauses, then her voice rings again.

Also you’re hot as hell, who would say no?

You give her an exasperated look and are about to resign yourself to leave and never, ever interact with any of your friends again when Azriel’s voice picks up.

“I left that meeting early,” Az says, remembering, “one of my spies needed out, I had to go extract them discreetly.”

He looks at you, “it took a few days because they got seriously injured and I wanted to ensure they were okay before coming back. By the time I was done, discussions were over and we were back home in Velaris.”

His face falls a bit, “I-I completely forgot. I am.. so sorry.”

“I appreciate the apology but it was ages ago, I figured you got caught up with something or said yes because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“I said yes because I wanted to go.”

The two of you look at each other, forgetting everyone else was there.

He stands, walking towards you, extending a hand.

“I’m quite late, but would you like to accompany me this evening?”

You put your hand in his as shadows envelop the both of you.

The last the inner circle hears from the two of you is a soft yes on the wind.

[alltheirdamn]

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

PART 2

Summary: After a summer away, you decide to pay a visit to your favorite mechanic. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: Pre-outbreak (AU), mechanic!joel, car sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, light nipple play, unprotected piv sex, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (darlin', babydoll, cowboy), cock riding, rough sex, creampie, joel once again being irresistible and disgustingly sweet, light sprinkle of fluff, porn with no plot (kinda) A/N: I have zero self-restraint and couldn't stop thinking about mechanic!joel soo... you could say, it was so nice she had to come twice ;)

PART 1 | Masterlist | Ko-fi

It wasn’t like you were actually planning on pulling off the highway to head toward that mechanic shop… except you totally were. Summer came and went, and after a few months spent in Tallahassee, it was time to go home. You weren’t in a rush this time, though, so you could afford a quick pit stop at a small mechanic shop. Nothing needed to be fixed in your car, but maybe you’d pop a screw loose just for the hell of it.

Pulling into the familiar garage, your heart thumped in your ears as you threw the car in park and nearly ran inside. The waiting room was disappointingly empty minus a handsome man standing behind the counter…one that wasn’t Joel.

His black curls were slicked back, and with just a white tank top and flannel on, you could tell he was built just like Joel. At your sudden entrance, he glanced your way, giving the cigarette in his hand a quick flick over the ashtray on the counter he leaned on.

“Can I help you with somethin’, miss?” He asked. He had that same drawl in his voice as Joel did.

Taming down your flyaways from the humidity, you walked over to the counter with a friendly smile. You didn’t miss how his eyes did a once-over on your body.

“I was just coming through town, thought I’d stop in to say hi to Joel,” you explained.

He took another drag of his cigarette, the cherry burning at the bottom. After a long inhale, he puffed out an air of smoke, filling the space with that stinging smell of nicotine. You weren’t completely opposed to the smell, and you most definitely appreciated him blowing it to the side so that it didn’t creep up into your nose.

“Joel’s just up at the mini-mart grabbin’ some beers. M’sure he’ll be back soon,” he shrugged. “I’m Tommy by the way, his brother.”

He extended his free hand, and you met him halfway to give him a friendly handshake, introducing yourself as well. Tommy donned that same lopsided grin as Joel; it must be that Southern charm and hospitality.

“So,” he drawled. “How y’know my brother?”

You shifted your weight between legs, trying to come up with some stupid lie to explain how you did know him. Short answer: he fixed your car. Long answer: he gave you the best orgasms of your life. 

“I, uh, came through town a few months ago to get my car fixed, and—.”

“Hey, Tommy! Come help me with the beers, man!” A voice shouted from the side door.

Tommy gave you an apologetic grin, rounding the corner to meet his brother outside. You leaned against the counter, drumming your fingers against it as you waited for them to reemerge. Tommy was walking back through the door moments later, a six-pack of beers in hand and Joel in tow. 

“C’mon man, I told you no smokin’ in the damn shop,” Joel grumbled, smacking the back of Tommy’s head.

Tommy only laughed at his brother's annoyance, walking around the counter to give Joel a clear view of you standing there. As his eyes set on you, Joel stopped in his tracks, a wild grin splitting across his face.

“Well, would y’look at that,” he beamed. “If it ain’t my favorite customer.”

A warmth crept up your skin, your cheeks blushing at his words. He approached you, leaning against the counter to mimic your stance. He still wore that worn-down black t-shirt, the fabric thinned out and stretching over his muscles. You wondered how long those scratches stayed on the skin of his back after you both…

“Ohhhh,” Tommy interrupted, forcing your eyes to tear away from Joel’s. “You’re the girl that’s got my brother out $500!”

Snapping your head back to Joel, you smacked his bicep in embarrassment.

“You told him?!” You shrieked.

Joel doubled over in laughter, clutching the arm you had just whacked.

“Calm down, darlin’. I ain’t ever think I’d see you again! S’all in good fun.”

You buried your face in your hands, letting out a small groan. Of course, he’d tell his fucking brother about you; the girl that didn’t have any fucking money for a car and slept her way out of the debt. You could bet Tommy probably didn’t believe Joel when he told him the story, either.

“Aw, c’mon now babydoll,” Joel crooned, peeling your hands away from your face. “I ain’t meant no harm in tellin’ the story.”

“He hasn’t told another soul,” Tommy said. You glanced over to see him raise a hand in defense. “Scouts honor.”

You smack Joel again for good measure, eliciting a howling laugh from Tommy on the other side of the counter. 

“Tommy, I’ll close up the shop tonight,” Joel said, raising an eyebrow at his brother. “Why don’t you head out and grab Sarah for me? M’sure I’ll be back in time for the game.”

“Fuckin’ better be,” Tommy tossed back. “Ain’t tryna lose my money to you again.”

“Seems like he needs that money,” you chimed in, rolling your eyes.

This time Joel shoved at you playfully, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest. 

“Now she’s got jokes!” He teased. 

“Ha ha very funny,” Tommy said, scooping up the six-pack into his arms. “Nice meetin’ ya miss. Don’t run up your tab too high while you’re here.”

Tommy was just as good with the jabs as you were, so you threw him a quick smile and wave before he slid out the back door and disappeared. With only Joel and you left, that nervous feeling crept back in. 

“Got another tire blown out or did y’miss me?” Joel teased.

“Don’t let your ego get too big, cowboy,” you said. “I’m just rollin’ back through town.”

“Pretty sure I’m big everywhere, babydoll, but y’already know that.”

Joel took a step towards you, twisting a strand of your hair through his fingers. You could see the midday sun reflecting in his brown eyes, making them sparkle the longer he stared. Your gaze flicked down to his lips, that pouty bottom one quipped up into a slight grin. 

“You’re just so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” You laughed.

“Sure enough to know that pretty pussy is just soakin’ your underwear right now,” he drawled. 

He grabbed your hips, pinning you to his chest with an arm braced around your back. Dipping his hand between your bodies, he slid a finger over the seam of your zipper, teasing your already throbbing clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feather-like touch of his finger, your body aching for him.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he whispered in your ear.

Your breath hitched as he popped open the button on your jeans and tugged down the zipper. Slipping two fingers between your skin and underwear, he drew lazy circles over your clit, watching you with rapt attention as you tried to stifle a moan.

“Mhmm,” he crooned. “Been dreamin’ ‘bout this pussy ever since you left town, darlin’.”

“Yeah?” you exhaled, rolling your hips against his fingers as they worked faster.

“Ain’t ever had my cock so wet.” Joel pressed a kiss against your neck as his fingers slid between your wet folds and teased your entrance. 

“Christ, Joel,” you exhaled. “Maybe we should take this somewhere else.”

Joel glanced around the empty waiting room and shrugged.

“No one’s here, darlin’.”

“Your shop windows are glass,” you argued. “Anyone can see us if they drive by.”

Teasing your wet folds, Joel slid a finger inside you, slowly curling it in an attempt to shut you up—which did work, unfortunately. You leaned into his broad chest, your head resting on his sternum as he continued the movement in slow strokes. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“What, babydoll?” He asked innocently as if he didn’t fucking know what he was doing to you.

“Take me to the garage,” you breathed. “Please.”

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely, darlin’.”

Pulling his hand out of your jeans, Joel bent to scoop you up, drawing your legs around his waist to carry you out of the waiting room. You wound your arms around his neck, dipping your head down to kiss along the stubble of his jawline. His hands squeezed your ass as he walked you both through the door to the garage, situating himself at the workbench. Still positioned in his lap, you wasted no time and pulled him in for a long, passionate kiss. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed you back, his hands roaming up and down your body as you devoured one another. 

“Jesus, babydoll. Y’really did miss me, huh?” he muttered against your open mouth.

“Maybe I did, cowboy.”

Grinding your hips on his lap, you felt the strain of his cock beneath the worn-out fabric of his work jeans. Joel nipped at your bottom lip, groaning as you circled your hips harder. 

“Easy now, darlin’,” he warned. “Don’t wanna ruin my jeans like some middle school boy.”

You laughed and doubled down on your movements against his cock, each drag of your body forcing him to tense up. Joel’s hand came up to cup your breast through your bra, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper. 

“Y’gonna be a good girl for me, babydoll?” he questioned.

You snuck a glance at his face, seeing his pupils blown wide with lust. Nodding quietly, you stilled your movements and focused on the feel of his fingers pinching your hardened nipple through the fabric. Your jaw went slack as he toyed with you, coaxing humiliating sounds from your lips with each twist.

“Hmm,” he mused, leveling you with a dangerous stare. “That's how I get you to behave, huh?”

“Joel,” you whined breathlessly. 

“Use your words, babydoll.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you begged, leaning into his touch.

“Where’s those manners, darlin’?” he taunted.

Giving him the biggest pouty face you could muster, you pushed your bottom lip out and sealed the deal by batting your eyelashes at him.

“Please, cowboy?” 

Joel rolled his eyes and chuckled, bringing his hand down on your ass to deliver a sharp slap. Hoisting you back up, Joel spun your body back against the wall of the garage, shoving your shirt up as he pressed you against it. He wasted no time in dragging down your bra, ravishing your skin with kisses and bites, leaving a trail of marks down your breast and sternum. You ran your hands through his curls, feeling the humidity of the air dampen them the longer you both stayed in the garage. Neither of you seemed to mind, though; you were so wrapped up in each other there was no telling of what was happening in the outside world. 

He took your nipple between his teeth, biting it softly and rewarding your behavior with another trail of kisses back up your chest and neck. He mumbled a slew of curses under his breath as you mewled against his touch, his mouth hot against the underside of your jaw.

“Quite the mouth on you, cowboy,” you teased. 

“Y’already know what this mouth can do, darlin’. Don’t tempt me.”

“Why don’t you remind me?” you asked, a smug grin teasing your lips.

“Fuck, babydoll,” he groaned.

Setting you back down on your feet, Joel nodded towards his black truck, silently instructing you to move. With the truck bed already down, you did a little hop and shimmy onto it, settling back against the warm metal. Joel grabbed a clean towel off his workbench and stalked towards you with a devilish grin.

“Afraid to get your truck messy?” You smirked.

“I already know you’re gonna have the entire bed of it soaked in damn near a minute,” he responded.

Letting impatience get the best of you, you worked yourself out of your jeans and underwear, slingshotting it directly at Joel’s chest as he neared the edge of the truck. Catching it with one hand, he pocketed the black lace effortlessly, offering you the towel to situate yourself onto. Sliding your body into the towel, you dropped your legs open, giving Joel a perfect view to ogle at.

“Like what you see, cowboy?” You giggled, trailing your fingers down your abdomen and towards the wetness between your thighs. 

“Damn right I do, darlin’.”

Joel pressed up against the truck bed, bending over to kiss down your stomach where your hand laid against your aching clit. He brushed his lips over your fingers before drawing them into his mouth, sucking on them gently. Your breath hitched as your eyes connected, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. Joel pulled your fingers from his mouth and guided your hand through his hair.

“Give them curls a tug if y’need it, darlin’.”

Then his mouth was on you. Devouring you. Lapping at you. Every flick of his tongue sent shockwaves through your body, your veins coursing with an indescribable need to explode. Joel didn’t let up for a single second, his tongue and jaw working at you until your thighs quaked around his neck. He was pushing you closer and closer until that coil inside your stomach was ready to snap. You cried out as he flattened his tongue against your clit, putting pressure at just the right spot to make you see stars.

“Right there… oh my God, Joel,” you whispered, panting as you felt that build-up in your body begin.

With another long draw of his tongue and the brush of his nose against the sensitive bud of your clit, that coil snapped. Hot, warm liquid gushed out of you, covering the entirety of his open mouth and chin. Joel groaned as he continued lapping at you, the disgusting sound of your wet cunt drowning out the heartbeat thudding in your ears. Aftershocks of your orgasm coursed through you, your body pulsing with pleasure with each press of his mouth against you.

You tugged at his curls as he instructed, and Joel lifted his face to reveal what a dripping mess he had become. Your cheeks reddened at the sight of his hooded eyes and wild smile; the look of sheer bliss painting his features. Exhaling, you sagged against the metal of the truck, your chest rising and falling as you tried to regain some semblance of control.

“God, I sure did miss this pussy,” Joel hummed, nudging his nose against your dripping cunt. 

You squirmed against his face, too afraid another orgasm would surge through you and drench him again—which he obviously wouldn’t be opposed to. But you needed his cock buried inside you, now.

“Joel, climb up here,” you said, patting the metal beside you.

“What if I ain’t ready yet?” he argued, kissing the inside of your thighs.

“Joel,” you demanded.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “Don’t get all impatient on me now, darlin’.”

Hauling himself onto the truck bed, he crawled over your limp body, kissing up the side of your neck. Using what little strength you had left, you maneuvered yourself over him, flipping you both until you straddled his lap. Joel’s hands came up to your bare hips, his thick fingers squeezing and kneading the supple flesh as you rolled against his hardened cock.

“Gonna let me ride you, cowboy?” You asked.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back. “Boutta be the best ride of my goddamn life.”

Giving him a wink, you hurried to undo his belt and jeans, letting his cock spring free. Christ, you forgot how big it was. Joel chuckled at the way you stalled a moment, bucking his hips upwards in an attempt to get you moving.

“Calm down, cowboy,” you warned. “I’m gettin’ there.”

Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you positioned it at your entrance, slowly sinking down until your clit brushed against the curls at the base. Even dripping wet, you were forced to stretch around him, the fullness leaving you breathless for a moment. 

“Y’look so pretty like that, babydoll. S’fuckin full of me,” Joel hummed.

You whimpered at his words, moving your hips up and down finding the right tempo that sent you both into oblivion. The press of your knees against the metal wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but you could ignore it so long as he enjoyed himself. You picked up the pace, your body bouncing up and down as you forced his cock deeper inside you. Joel’s jaw went slack as he watched you, enraptured with the way you moved above him. Your bodies slapped together with each drop of your hips, and his fingers flexed against your waist as he pushed and pulled your body until you were grinding against him. 

“There ya’ go, babydoll,” Joel murmured. “Feel how deep I am?”

You only gave him a pathetic moan, letting his hands guide your body as you pulsed around his cock. You were so fucking full, the tip of his cock spearing up into you with each drag of your hips. Snaking a hand down your body, your fingers found your clit, drawing desperate circles as you tried to chase the orgasm threading through your muscles. 

“Fuck,” Joel groaned. “You’re just desperate to cum again, huh?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whined, putting more pressure on your clit as he drove himself deeper.

“S’fuckin’ pretty like that,” Joel exhaled. “Gonna drench me again, huh? Let’s see it, babydoll, cover me with it.”

Your mouth opened with a soundless cry, your cunt flexing around his cock as another orgasm ruptured through you, soaking your thighs and seeping into his jeans. Hauling you down against his chest, Joel positioned his knees upward, pistoning his hips against yours at a violent pace. 

“Fuck!!” You sobbed as more liquid gushed out of you, the strength of your orgasm amplified at this angle.

“Good fuckin’ girl. That’s it, c’mon,” Joel praised, his lips pressed against your ear. “Keep goin’, babydoll. I know y’can give me more.”

“I—I can’t!” You stammered.

Your orgasm wouldn’t let up, though. Joel’s cock drove into you with such force, that you continued soaking him over and over again despite your wailing protests. Joel continued praising you and talking you through each ripple of your orgasm, hushing you as you cried harder. 

“Just like that, babydoll. Shh… Doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Joel kept a brutal pace, wrecking into you as he chased his own release. His hips snapped up one final time before he was spilling into you with a choked groan falling from his lips. 

Falling limp against his body, you stared at the sides of the truck bed with glazed eyes. Tremors still wracked through your body as you settled into his embrace, his hand rubbing soft circles over your shoulders. Craning his head to the side, Joel captured your lips in a soft kiss, his tongue dancing over yours slow and sweet. 

“Doin’ alright, babydoll?” he asked, breaking away from your lips.

You nodded mindlessly, too blissed out to form words. Nestled into his body, you let your fingers wander up his bicep and over his shoulder. Joel placed a soft kiss at the crown of your head, his muffled words lost in your hair.

“Hmm?” You asked.

“S’nothing,” he whispered. “Just enjoyed the ride, that’s all.”

You rested your head on his sternum, giving him a questioning look. 

“Sounded like you said something else,” you said, cocking a brow.

Joel huffed a laugh, his head falling back against the metal with a soft thud.

“I don’t know, darlin’. Guess I kinda like you.”

“Guess I kinda like you too, cowboy.”

Rolling off of him, you situated yourself against the side of the truck bed, resting your legs over his stomach. Joel’s hand kneaded into the tight muscles of your calves, working at the knots in your legs. His head leaned to the side to catch a glimpse at you, a smile breaking across his face.

“How long are y’staying in town?” he asked.

“I was only passing through,” you sighed.

His smile faltered a moment, that glimmer of hope flickering out in his eyes. Suddenly, the thought of leaving didn’t sound so nice.

“Why don’t y’stay the night?” he offered. “Got myself a big enough bed to sleep in, babydoll.”

“How much is it gonna cost me?” You teased, rubbing your foot over the softest part of his lower stomach.

“I’m thinkin’ a good blowjob,” he mused.

“Whatever you want, cowboy. Count me in.”

You spent a few moments in harmonious silence, basking in the circumstances’ simplicity. After a while, you found yourself climbing off the truck in search of your jeans and underwear. Joel worked his way down, too, stuffing his cock back into his pants and gathering the damp towel off the truck bed.

“You still have my underwear,” you grumbled, shaking out your jeans to slide into.

“And I’m gonna keep ‘em, darlin’,” Joel said, grabbing you by the waist to reel you in for a kiss. “Need me a lil’ souvenir.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you chuckled.

Foregoing underwear, you stuffed yourself back into your jeans and followed Joel to the passenger side of the truck, where he had the door already propped open for you. Helping you in, he reached over to secure your seatbelt, kissing your cheek softly before shutting the door and walking to the driver's side.

Turning the key in the ignition, Joel glanced over at you, his eyes roaming over your messy hair and rosy cheeks. 

“Y’sure are beautiful, babydoll. Wish I could keep ya here,” he sighed.

You rested your chin in your hand, leaning over the center console. 

“I don’t know, cowboy. Your negotiating skills are pretty damn good. Might talk me into staying with all those sweet words.”

“Oh yeah?” he perked up. “Y’know you still got a hefty bill to pay off.”

“Shit, you’re right,” you agreed. “I might have to stay a while to settle that debt.”

Joel cracked a smile, lifting up the console to haul you closer to him. Backing out of the garage, he navigated the truck onto the main road and towards wherever home was for him. Settling into his side, your fingers danced over the zipper of his pants as you waged your brows at him.

“Think I should start paying off that debt now?” You asked.

“I ain’t arguing with that, babydoll,” Joel grinned.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 12

James “Bucky” Barnes + Drool/Spit

This is winter soldier Bucky, so imagine he’s wearing that half face mask he wears in the movie. Hes wearing a mouth guard under it, google says that’s what it’s called. Im also taking canon, and throwing it in the toilet for this.

No outright smut in this, cuz it felt a lil weird to add it, as Bucky kinda sees the reader as a very nice and comforting handler. Readers an Avenger 🗣️

2024 kinktober masterlist

Maybe dressing up as a hydra agent wasn’t your… best idea. But hindsight was twenty-twenty. Steves friend was locked up in a hydra facility near where you had just been for a mission, and you knew he was planning a whole thing to get him out. You also knew that it would be a shitshow if it went his way, did he really think it would work just not telling people? It was a good thing Steve was hot, because sometimes his head was full of dirt.

You hadn’t honestly thought it would work, alright? You just assumed you could sneak in, maybe get some info from their tech, see where they kept the winter solider, and get out of there. The documents had said he would be frozen down, so of course you almost shit yourself when he was wide awake and staring at, the same way a starving dog looks at a steak.

So maybe you tucked him under your arm and just ran outta there. Okay, it wasn’t that comedic. You just used your best “hydra bastard” accent and lingo, and somehow got the winder solider, Bucky? Was that what Steve called him? To follow you out. He seemed almost willing, which didn’t make a lot of sense, since well. You were dressed up as a hydra agent.

You just hadn’t counted for the fact that he would see you as his new handler. This was what you were thinking about as you were sitting on the couch in one of your safe houses. One you had bought, not shield or Stark. You loved Tony, you did, there was just something nice about an apartment that wasn’t bugged from hell and back.

Looking down at the winder soldier- you should start calling him Bucky. At Bucky kneeling by your feet. The moment you got home you changed into something more comfortable, just some sweats and an old t-shirt you stole from an ex who’d been a huge baseball nerd.

“so, uh… Buck..y? what do you wanna like, do” you awkwardly said, scratching at the stubble on your chin from the uneasy tension you felt in the air. Feeling you nuzzle against your knee almost made you jump right out the seat. The yell was choked down before it became a reality as you looked down, frows furrowed in confusion as he just seemed to… nuzzle you.

Hesitantly you reached a hand down, approaching him with the caution one would a feral dog on the street. His pale eyes were kinda creepy, with all that eyeblack smudged around them like that, and how they just laser focused on every little movement you did. Bucky’s hair was oily and uncomfortable as you ran a hand through it. Couldn’t really blame the guy though, could you. you couldn’t imagine hydra was the nicest people to work under.

Bucky seemed to arch into the touch when he realized you weren’t trying to hit him, a choked raspy noise leaving him as his eyes almost rolled all the way back. Hadn’t Steve said hydra had this guy for, like, 70 years? Then you guessed it wasn’t weird for him to ache for any kind of human touch. Youd seen Tony after he was brought back from the cave he was kept in. hed been so touchy but also flinched away from everything. And that was just 3 months, you couldn’t imagine what this guy had been through.

You hadn’t thought about how you were rubbing Buckys head as you mulled over your thoughts, your second hand reaching down to rub his ear and rub a thumb across his cheek, right above that mask of his. You also hadn’t noticed the way his eyes seemed to droop, pupils blowing wide as he leant all his weight against your leg, or how something wet was seeping into your sweats.

It took a while for you to finally come back to yourself, having gone on some long tangent in your head about trauma and how to deal with this guy before you could bring him back to the tower. Looking down you had wanted to apologize, only to see how Bucky looked like he was in heaven, slumped against your knee and eyes barely open a crack as he melted under your hands. The big spot of drool on your leg made you realize how long you had been sitting like this.

“Fuck, uh. Sorry dude, didn’t mean to space out like that” you chuckled a bit dryly, finally pulling your hands back, your heart giving a lurch as he let out a raspy noise. There wasn’t much voice behind it, but it felt like one of those scarred fighting dogs trying to whine. It was… kinda cute in its own way, even if it came from the winter solider of all people.

“That things probably real uncomfortable, huh?” you mumble, eyes landing on that mask of his. With little though behind it, you reach down and carefully search for the release mechanism. It took longer than intended, with Bucky trying to nuzzle into your hands whenever they came close. God this guy was touch starved, hopefully the team would know what to do.

A soft amused huff passed through your lips as you finally got the mask of him, strings of drool hanging from his parted lips against the inside of the material. “Drooly boy, aren’t you” you joked, only for Bucky to let out the faintest of whimpers as he tried to nuzzle against you again.

As he panted with parted lips, you could spot what looked like some kind of cover on his teeth. Had hydra tried to silence him in another way? Was that why he didn’t talk, or was it all trauma? You hadn’t thought about your actions much before you found yourself carefully pulling on his jaw, Bucky leaning his head along as he simply let you do as you pleased.

Bucky let out a louder pleased noise as your fingers slid into his mouth, his tongue rubbing insistently against your fingers as if he was exploring. With a shaky exhale you carefully moved your fingers around, trying to grab onto what was covering his upper teeth. The entire time Bucky seemed more interesting in licking at and sucking your fingers. The movements were too messy to be hydra trained, at least that could help a little on the guilt it made you feel.

Spit was rolling down his chin, Bucky not even seeming to think about swallowing it. With a little struggle, you finally got whatever was covering his teeth off, Bucky trying to follow your fingers as you pulled away, finally realizing that it was a mouth guard. Thick strings of drool hung from the mouth guard and Bucky’s lips and pink tongue, making you shudder.

There was no way you were gonna go down that road, not with how messed up this guy was. There was also that whole thing that he might think you are his handler, so that was something you would explore. Instead you put the mouth guard to the side with his mask, and used your sleeve to wipe all the spit and drool of his face, mumbling soft scoldings at him as Bucky tried to lick you again.

“Lets just go get you cleaned up, alright?” you finally sigh after having to pull your hands to yourself, after he tried to catch them in his mouth again. Bucky seemed more than happy to follow you as you lead him into the bathroom, starting to take his outfit off before you even said anything.

Instinctively you wanted to scold him for just doing that, but seeing him step into the empty bathtub and look at you with those softer, but still blank eyes, made your chest ache just a little more. The shower took a while, with you having to scrub his hair multiple times. You caught him drooling during the entire process, as if he didn’t have full control of his bodily functions. You also saw him get hard, his cock pink and twitching, oozing its own fluids from what must be the first pleasurable touches in years.

You didn’t do anything about it though, instead helping him dry off and wiping his chin as he kissed softly at your palm, like his own way of saying thanks. “You’re welcome. Come on, I’ll get you something to wear” you mumble out, voice softer and more careful as you lead him to your bedroom and find something that’ll fit him.

It was a struggle to get him into bed, the man clearly uncomfortable with how soft it was and unsure of how to lay. Bucky only seem to lay still when you laid down with him, and he only settled after you let him take your fingers into his mouth again.

The action of just sucking and licking put him in a much calmer state, Bucky’s eyes drooping as he melted against the pillow, even as he still stared at you with such intensity. Seeing him fall asleep so easily after everything made it bearable that he was suckling on your fingers and soaking your pillow in drool. You would figure this out, one way or another. Even if it meant letting Bucky drool all over you until you did.

[theemporium]

[3.3k] a friendship begins to blossom between you and luke as he begins to feel more settled in new jersey. the jump from college was intense, but he was somewhat glad he had a supportive group around him. and maybe his makeout sessions with you were a great stress relief too. (less smut and more heated makeout)

series masterlist

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cherry🍒: i don’t believe you can cook 

cherry🍒: sounds fake tbh

Luke snorted to himself, his lips twitching upwards as he stared at your message. You had sent it at some point during practice, continuing the conversation the two of you had been having the night before.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Less than two weeks ago, he was practically dry heaving on the ice at the idea of meeting up with you and now there hadn’t been a day the two of you had gone without talking. 

He didn’t even text his brothers this much when they were apart, and now he was practically glued to his phone whenever he got the chance—something Jack loved to point out. 

Pre-season training was intense, he expected as much when he entered the NHL. Both his brothers had warned him about it, too. He just hadn’t realised how intense it was going to be, or how big the jump between college to professional hockey would be. 

And he didn’t realise how much more he would be eating. 

Jack had found it fucking hilarious. He continuously chirped his little brother for always having a snack in his hand. Whether it was in their apartment, on the road or in the locker room, Jack would be the first to laugh, teasing him about being a ‘growing boy’. The rest of the team were a little more sympathetic, but that didn’t stop them from making some jabs themselves. 

It meant that Luke had to adapt, meaning he had to learn to cook more meals beyond the three staples that had got him through college when he wasn’t relying on any meal plans. And it meant he was getting pretty fucking good at it too, much to his own surprise. 

hockey boy: i cook so well, you’re just jealous

He paused, his shirt still half-hanging around his neck as he saw you typing. 

cherry🍒: prove it then

Luke grinned. 

hockey boy: i’m about to blow your mind with my steak subs 

He felt a rush of anxiety—a good kind, for once—when he saw the bubbles show up on his screen again. He waited, anticipating your response. He had practically forgotten about the fact he was standing in the locker room, half-dressed after practice until he heard someone calling his name. 

“Luke!” 

His head snapped up, turning to find that most of the boys had already left. There were a few stranglers, still packing up their stuff with no real rush. But it was Nico who had called his name.

“Uh, yeah?” 

“You free to talk?” Nico asked, a kind smile on his face like the other boys on the team had always said. It was hard to feel anything but welcomed by the Swiss. “After you’ve changed.” 

“Oh,” Luke glanced down at his phone, seeing a notification that you had replied but quickly shoved his phone down on his bag. “Like, right now? Because I kinda had some plans—”

“It will be quick,” the older man assured him.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and smiled a little. “Yeah, I’m free.”

Luke moved pretty quickly after that, ignoring his phone as he quickly changed back into the sweatpants and hoodie he had thrown on this morning when Jack had banged on his door at some ungodly, early hour. He shoved most of his things into his bag, trying to act like he felt completely normal and stress-free about a one-on-one conversation with his captain.

He tried to act nonchalant as they made their way to the lounge area where some players crash before or after a practice. Fridges and shelves were stocked with a variety of trainer-approved snacks and protein shakes, it was probably one of Luke’s favourite rooms recently. But now he felt too on edge to even grab one of the lemon muffins he loved. 

“Calm down, you aren’t in trouble,” Nico eventually spoke up, settling down on the couch as he looked at Luke expectantly. “I just wanted to talk.”

Luke cleared his throat, settling down on the couch too. “Yeah, so you’ve said.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “How are you finding Jersey?”

“It’s good,” Luke nodded.

Nico raised his brows. “Just good?”

Luke blinked. “...really good?”

“Hm,” Nico hummed, but he sounded amused. “Usually I have trouble shutting Jack up, you’re like the opposite.” 

Luke laughed a little. “Jack was always the yapper.” 

“He’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about,” Nico added, almost far too casually. He briefly wondered if his captain was waiting for an in to whatever the real reason behind this conversation was. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know I’m your captain too, right?” Nico asked, and this time he sounded a lot more serious than he did thirty seconds ago. It was how he sounded on the ice, how he sounded on the bench during playoffs last year. He hadn’t seen much of this side of Nico, but he recognised it well.

Luke frowned. “Is this a trick question?”

“No, I—” Nico paused, shaking his head. “I just want you to know that I see you as one of my boys. Not just Jack’s little brother. When I played with my brother, I know sometimes it feels like you’re just…there. In his shadow, sometimes. I just don’t want you to feel like that here.”

Luke relaxed a little. “I don’t—”

“But you’d tell me if you ever did, yeah? I’m your captain too. I want you to know I’m there if you need me, as a captain or a friend.” Nico had a sincere but serious expression on his face, and a small part of it reminded him of Quinn. That warmth and comfort that came from someone a little older, a little more sure of themselves—a true captain.

“I know,” he promised the older boy with a nod. 

“Good,” Nico said before his face broke out into a smile. “Do you need a lift home? I told Jack he could go and I could drive you back—”

“No!” Luke blurted out before blinking, seeing Nico’s slightly surprised face at his outburst. “I, uh, meant that I didn’t need a lift. I was just going to get an Uber.”

Nico’s brows furrowed together. “There’s no need, I can drive you back. I know where—”

“No, I just,” he paused, feeling his cheeks heat up in response. “I’m heading to a friend’s house. Not going home. So.”

“I see,” Nico murmured, and there was something shining in his eyes that Luke didn’t fully understand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. “I can drive you to your…friend’s house, if you want.”

And let you watch him get dropped off by his captain? Yeah, he would rather not.

“I’m fine with an Uber, but thanks,” Luke said with a slightly strained smile, only hoping he didn’t look as guilty as he felt. He didn’t even know why his whole body felt on edge, he knew he was doing nothing wrong. 

But something about the way Nico was staring made him feel like he could see right through him, through everything. 

He was almost convinced his captain knew exactly where he was going and why, and that was something Luke didn’t want to think about.

…

“Back off!”

“But I’m hungry!”

“There’s gonna be nothing left if you keep eating everything.”

“But it’s taking so long.”

Luke shot you an exasperated look, though he didn’t bother to hide his smile as you slumped against the counter beside him. “It’s only been forty minutes.”

“I was hungry before you got here,” you defended with a huff.

“And you’ve practically eaten all the cheese I was gonna use,” he retorted. 

You crossed your arms over your chest. He tried to ignore how endearing he found the act. 

“C’mon, give me five more minutes and your food will be done,” Luke tried again, and he managed to finally crack a small smile from you.

“This better be worth it, Hughes. This is my first meal of the day.”

“I—” Luke frowned a little. “Yeah, we’ll dive into that later.”

You raised your brows, something like amusement painted across your face. “Worried about me, Hughes?”

“At the fact it’s one o’clock and you haven’t eaten a single thing?” Luke pointed out. “Yeah, actually, I am. And I think that is a justified reason.”

You waved him off. “I had coffee.”

His lips parted. “That’s not—”

“Cook for me, Hughes,” you interrupted, a grin stretched across your face as you playfully slapped his ass. “You said you would prove yourself.” 

Luke’s cheeks flushed. “You’re bossy.”

“And you like it.”

He didn’t disagree.

…

“Stop looking so smug.” 

Luke glanced over at you. “I never said anything.”

“But you have a smug smile on your face.” 

“I don’t.” He definitely did. “But I am waiting for you to admit I was right.” 

“Fine. You’re a good cook or whatever.” 

Luke beamed in response. 

He was never an overly confident or arrogant guy, not even on the ice. He knew when he played well, he knew when he made people eat their doubts that the youngest Hughes brother wasn’t as good as the other two. He was never the kind to go fishing for compliments or praise either.

But there was something admittedly satisfying when he got to see that expression on someone’s face, the one they got when he proved them wrong. 

Whether it was something as big as proving his high school coach that he was good enough to make it into one of the best college’s hockey team, or as small as proving to you he was a damn good cook, and he made a damn good steak sub.

He didn’t like asking for compliments, but it was nice to receive them. To have that reassurance. To know that maybe he wasn’t as hopeless as he sometimes felt in his own body.

You raised your brows. “What? No cocky follow up?”

Luke shrugged, leaning back into the plush cushions of your couch. The plates and the rest of the dirty dishes had been shoved in the dishwasher, some random old sitcom was playing on the tv and the two of you were sprawled on your couch with your feet on his lap. Not that he was complaining.

It was sweet. Relaxing. Domestic. 

Almost like you two were just friends hanging out.

“Not really my thing,” Luke admitted. “You said I was right. That’s enough.” 

You tilted your head in interest. “That’s enough?” 

He missed the heat in your words, the shift in tone in your voice. His eyes were aimlessly focused on the tv, trying to work out what was going on after he zoned out for a few moments. He missed the way your eyes dragged over his body, lingering on the way his shirt stretched over his shoulders and clung onto his arms. 

“Yeah,” he nodded absentmindedly. “Jack is the one who would—oh.”

You grinned at the way he fell silent, as he blinked in surprise at the way you planted yourself in his lap. 

“I—” Luke cleared his throat, no further words coming out as you placed your hands on his chest. 

“Just wanted to say thank you,” you told him, your eyes following the way you ran your hands over the expanse of his chest, the way his heart thundered under your touch before your fingers traced along his neck. “For cooking for me.”

“Right,” Luke said, swallowing a little. 

“Can I say thank you, Luke?”

He nodded.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” he rasped, his wide eyes staring up at you. “Please.”

“So polite,” you teased before you leaned down, your fingers fisting the material of his shirt in your hands as you pressed your lips together. 

It took Luke a few seconds before he eased into the kiss, into letting you take control as your tongue swiped over his bottom lip. He sunk further into the couch, his hands hesitating a few moments before they rested comfortably on your waist, just like they always did.

And you waited. 

You waited for them to move as you deepened the kiss, as your tongue explored his mouth. You waited as your hands ran up and down his chest, feeling the way his body shivered under your touch, at the way your nails lightly raked down his stomach. You waited as you felt his hands squeeze your waist, like he was finally giving in.

But his hands remained where they were.

“Luke,” you murmured, a little breathlessly between kisses. “Move.”

He paused, pulling back as he looked up at you with a confused expression. “What? Like, from the couch?” 

You couldn’t help yourself as you snorted. “No, I meant your hands.”

“My hands?” He repeated dumbly.

Your smile softened a little as you reached for his hands, squeezing his wrists tightly. “Your hands are your friends,” you told him, biting back your laugh when you noticed his confusion grow. “There’s more to making out with a girl than kissing her.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat a little. “I knew that.”

“You like it when I touch you, right?” 

He nodded.

“So, do the same,” you told him, squeezing his wrists again. 

Luke blinked, swallowing hard. “I—”

He quickly closed his mouth, his cheeks flushing as a familiar feeling of embarrassment washed over him. He looked a bit hopeless, and it tugged on your heart strings a little to see him so hesitant.

“You can ask me anything, Luke,” you reminded him, your tone soft and void of anything remotely mocking like he almost expected. “I won’t judge.”

His eyes flickered back to your face. “Where…do I touch you?”

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “You want me to show you where I liked to be touched, baby?”

He nodded, his face flushing a deeper shade of red.

You never tore your eyes away from his face as you placed your hands over his, trying not to focus on how much bigger they felt than your own. You watched the way his brows furrowed, like he was trying to concentrate as you guided his hands along your waist until they dipped down to cup your ass.

He swallowed. “Is this okay?” 

“So okay,” you told him before you leaned down to kiss him again. His hands remained still on your ass and it made you smile against his lips as you prompted him, as you let his hands experimentally squeeze your ass. “Girls like this.”

“O-Okay,” he breathed out.

“Feels nice when you wanna take a bit more control,” you told him, lightly nipping his bottom lip as he let out a choked noise of surprise. “Control the pace.” 

“Mhm,” he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to guide his hands over your body again. 

“Sometimes a girl just wants a little more when you’re making out,” you continued to whisper between kisses, taking his hands to the hem of your shirt. You felt him freeze a little beneath you as you guided him under the material of your shirt and softly squeezed his hands in reassurance. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” 

“Just wanna make you feel good too,” Luke murmured, a little bashful in his admission as his fingers skimmed over the skin of your stomach.

Something inside you twisted, in a good way. 

“You’re making me feel good, Luke,” you told him, your lips grazing his as you spoke, as you continued to move his hands further up your body. “Just doing exactly what I tell you. Such a good boy, such a fast learner.”

“Shit,” he breathed out as you rested his hands over your tits. He paused for a moment before giving them an experimental squeeze, finding the smile you gave him in response much more rewarding than anything else. 

“That’s it, baby, just gotta be a little more confident,” you murmured before you dipped your head down, finally pressing your lips against his again. 

And yeah, it was a little awkward at first when you dropped your hands from his. You were kissing him, your tongue swiping against his and his hands were just lingering on your tits like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

But then you rolled your hips against his, snapping him out of whatever brain fog he was lost in and he decided to just let himself sink into it. To just let his instincts take over. To trust the fact you would help him if he was doing something wrong.

And, fuck, Luke thought he might have to listen to his instincts more often if these were the results he got.

One of his hands slipped back down to your waist, to keep you on his lap as the other squeezed your tit over the fabric of your bra. You keened under the touch, almost panting against his lips between kisses as you gripped his shoulders. And then his other hand moved lower, moved to cup your ass and squeeze until he was helping you rock against him. 

Your nails dug into his skin, but the pain was dull and desirable. It showed him that you were enjoying this, that you were enjoying the way he pawed at your tits and squeezed your ass. It showed him that maybe he did just need some confidence, to just trust that sometimes he would just instinctively know what to do.

His head dipped a little as your pants became heavier and the kiss was harder to continue. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, experimentally mouthing along your skin until he found a spot at the base of your neck that made you shiver under his touch. 

He slowly ran his tongue along the spot, smiling a little when your fingers moved to grip his curls and tug a little. His teeth grazed the spot, a small voice in the back of his head wanting nothing more than for him to wrap his lips around the spot and suck until—

RING! RING! RING!

Both of you jumped at the shrill of the phone echoing through the room, both of his hands dropping to your waist to hold you tightly before you fell on your ass. His eyes snapped over to where his phone sat on the coffee table and groaned when he realised who was calling him. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Luke grumbled, eyes narrowed on his phone as he watched Jack’s call ring on until it stopped.

“For someone who was desperate to get you laid, he sure knows how to ruin a moment,” you commented, though your voice was amused and lighthearted. 

“I told him I’d be back later,” Luke huffed out. “I don’t know why—”

He was cut off by his phone buzzing again. And then again. And then again. He sighed deeply as he reached over, not moving you off his lap—and you made no move to slide off either, so he wasn’t complaining. He swiped, unlocking his phone as his brother’s messages came through.

jack attack: yo how did the thing with nico go? 

jack attack: also idc what you said, we are having a birthday party for you and the boys agreed

jack attack: bring your lady friend ;)

Luke groaned a little, rolling his eyes and locking his phone instead of replying. 

“Not a fan of parties?” 

“Not a fan of Jack’s parties—especially ones that are three weeks after my actual birthday,” Luke corrected, his lips twitching downwards as his hands rested casually on your waist. “He tends to be a little…”

“Much?” You supplied. 

“Yeah,” Luke snorted. “He also said he wanted me to invite you.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me there?”

He raised his brows in response. “Do you want to come?”

“I’ll never say no to a party,” you said with a smile that was anything but innocent, leaning down until your lips were brushing his. “Plus, it’s your birthday. I think you deserve a little treat.” 

Luke gulped a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned before kissing him, whilst his whole body flushed at the implications of your words. 

jack attack: i know you read my texts

jack attack: stop fucking and reply, asshole!!

.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🎃 Spooky, Spooky Movies 👻

You're nursing a crush on Eddie but you're too shy to approach him. A shared love of spooky movies brings the two of you together.

❤️

You had been quietly nursing this little crush of yours for a while now, Eddie Munson was the object of your affections and your crush had only continued to grow the last month or so. Ever since school started again, you noticed Eddie more and more.

Not that he would notice you. Eddie seemed to have crushes on cheerleaders like Chrissy Cunningham, he wasn't interested in you at all.

If only you had the courage to join Hellfire Club or even something less terrifying like even saying hello to him once in a while. That could be a possibility.

You're pretty sure if you joined Hellfire you would just get all tongue tied around him. It was extremely annoying that he made you like this. If you were around people you knew then you were fine.

However being around the guy you were crushing on reduced you to mush. How you would love to make him laugh by saying something witty or just anything at all.

Secretly you watch Eddie while he's in his element, ranting about conformity, Miss O'Donnell and Jason Carver. His eyes are bright, a tiny smirk on his face as passionately begins talking about his new campaign in D&D.

After a few moments you pack away your things and head out of the cafeteria. You're not paying attention as you should and end up knocking into Eddie. Shit.

Flustered you apologise and Eddie flashes you and all dimpled smile as he gathers up your books for you.

Then his eyes trail down to your shirt and he points to it excitedly. "Jesus h Christ, that shirt is so fucking cool. I take it you're a big fan of spooky movies huh?"

You literally forgot you were wearing your favourite Evil Dead shirt today and smile up at Eddie. You were determined to at least hold a conversation with him and maybe your love of spooky movies was the key?

"Mmm, I think I've rented out every horror movie that Family Video has to offer" his eyes light up and he guides you to The Hellfire table, ignoring the rest of the members as he barked at Mike to make space for you.

The two of you spent most of lunch chatting about horror movies that you liked. When you mentioned you were planning to rent out Poltergeist and either Christine or Friday the 13th he was practically vibrating with excitement.

Then all of a sudden his usual confident demeanour vanishes and he looks suddenly shy, he tugs a piece of his hair across his face and peers at you nervously.

"Uh, I actually have Poltergeist rented out rented out ready, maybe you could come to mine and we could watch it?" Oh.

Was this like a date? No...it couldn't be right? You take a chance and ask him, completely expecting him to blow you off. "You mean like a date?"

He blushes but swiftly glares to silence the rest of Hellfire who begins to cat call and tease Eddie. The look immediately silences them and Eddie gestures for you to follow him out to the corridor. "Away from prying buttheads" he tells you and throws an irritated look at the Hellfire table.

Once you're alone he's a little shy again. "Yeah I mean like a date sweetheart" you're elated and stunned that this is actually happening and you accidentally blurt out something you've been wondering for weeks, maybe months.

"I thought you'd have a crush on Chrissy or the other cheerleaders" you admit and he scoffs.

"I mean Chrissy is sweet and all but no. Kinda got my world turned upside down by a beautiful, spooky movie loving lady" flustered but not wasting any more time, you beam and agree to the date.

"Yeah, I'd love to go on a date with you Eddie" he gawks then makes a show of clutching his heart and swooning, it makes you giggle and maybe fall a little bit more for him.

You didn't realise at the time that the date would be the start of something very special.

All because of your love for spooky movies.

Halloween 1987

Eddie is chatting to Steve as you browse through the horror selection in Family Video. You settle on The Thing, Nightmare on Elm street and Fright Night.

What you're most looking forward to is tomorrow when you and Eddie are going to the movies to see The Lost Boys. Both of you were excited for the film but you were anticipating it the most.

Vampires movies were a secret love of yours and this one looked so good. A perfect film to see before Halloween.

Once you've picked your selection you head up to the counter, Steve whistles as he eyes the titles.

"Ahh I see date night right? Munson's picks I guess?" Eddie snorts.

"My princess loves spooky movies I'll have you know Harrington" yeah you'd never get tired of hearing Eddie call you his princess.

Or for all the Halloween's together that were yet to come.

🎃🍁

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

hiii, could you write something about Tom meeting his celebrity crush ( he also maybe said it in an interview) at the Museum Gala? She is a big actress ( maybe did house of the dragon or something). She thinks he is super hot and she has seen the new hunger games movie, so she kinda flirts with him because she knows she is his celebrity crush and he is a nervous wreck. Eventually they start going out and end up dating! Just something about another British Tom manifesting his life LMAO

could you also add some insta posts ? I love this kinda of au! I hope you like this idea

lots of 💋 t!

And They Meet || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

A/n: love love this request ty anon 😙

Warnings: none!

Wc: 1,232

Dividers by @pommecita

“Do you have a celebrity crush?” The question caught Tom by surprise as he chuckles, his fingertips tapping on his chin. “I do actually, uh Y/n Y/l/n.” He admits for the first time on camera.

“I watched House of the Dragon the moment it came out and I just fell in love with how she portrayed Alicent Hightower, truly one of the greatest actresses at such a young age,” He smiles like a mad man as he recalls the time he first saw her on screen.

The gorgeous green coloured dress you would wear looked heavenly, and of course, your impeccable acting drew his attention. He binge watched the first season over and over, a smile adorning his lips everytime you would bless his screen with your beauty.

“Have you met her Tom? She’s a lovely person in real life.” The brunette sighs, “Unfortunately I have not, soon hopefully, soon,” He crosses his fingers as he lets out a low chuckle before moving on.

~

You watch with a grin on your face the interview that mentioned you. After Tom revealed that you were infact, his celebrity crush, you couldn’t help but feel like a giddy high school girl.

The thought that the Tom Blyth took a fancy towards you was mind blowing, especially since you’ve watched him from afar and admired him for quite some time now. You remember you first saw him on Billy the Kid and thought he was exceptional, and quite attractive.

“You think he would be at the museum gala next month?” You lift your head to Ally, your manager as she thinks. “Most likely, why’s that?” She smirks at you as you roll your eyes jokingly. “Nothing, nothing, just wondering,” You put your hands up in defence.

“Okay you have 10 minutes left,” Ally looks at her watch. You were at The Kelly Clarkson Show about to be interviewed about the upcoming season of the House of the Dragon.

~

“Y/n, do you have a type? If so, I think your fans would like to know, don’t you?” Kelly winks to the crowd as they erupt into laughter, including yourself. “Physical wise? Most definitely tall, brunette, blue eyes, a nice smile-“ “That sounds a whole lot familiar to a guest I just had a couple days ago….” Kelly teases as your eyes widen.

“Really?” A nervous chuckle leaves your lips, “Yeah, a Mr Tom Blyth happens to fit that description. I also know he mentioned you as his celebrity crush just the other day,” You play with the ring on your finger as you look at Kelly as if it was new news to you.

“Did he really?” You couldn’t help the smile off your face, “I watched the movie the day it came out and I understand the girlies who were rooting for Coryo,” You fan yourself jokingly, “truly understand.” The crowd cheers as you laugh. “I mean, I’m willing to ignore the red flags because he’s just so incredibly good looking!” You were lowkey fangirling.

“I know right!” Kelly agrees, “Tom did such a fantastic job playing young Snow, he really charmed us all,” You grin.

~

“Do you think she’s going to be at the gala?” Tom lifts his head up, the interview of you at The Kelly Clarkson Show displayed on his phone. “She should be,” His manager says as he smiles to himself, his eyes redirecting to his phone as you continue to talk about House of The Dragon.

Truth be told, after her let the entire world know that your his celebrity crush, he had been basking in the many comments saying how good the two of you would look together. It boosted his ego for sure.

He was hoping he’d finally be able to see you tonight at the museum gala and feed fans content. The second Tom set foot the gala, his eyes wandered around, hoping to see a glimpse of you. "Are you looking for someone Tom?" An interviewer calls out as he chuckles whilst posing for the photographers. "Yes actually," He responds with a shy smile.

Then, he hears loud screaming coming from the entrance as everyone in the gala turns their head towards the noise. And in you walked. Tom was standing in the red carpet section along with other celebrities as you walk towards his way, waving at the cameras along the way.

You wore a beautiful black gown, your hair in curls as the cascade down your back. Tom didn't even realise but he was staring at you, his mouth slightly agape, entranced by your beauty.

Cameras take photos and videos of Tom's reaction to you, it was quite cute. A man who finally got to see his celebrity crush in front of his eyes. Little did he know, you were looking around, hoping to find him.

Your eyes look around the place before you spot Tom, a few metres away from you as your eyes lit up. Abandoning your spot where you were posing for the cameras, you picked up the fabrics of your dress with the help of your assistants and made your way over to him.

It took a few seconds for Tom to realise that you were walking towards his direction. "Tom!" You greet him, going in for a hug as if you had known each other for years. He was slightly taken back but nonetheless hugs you respectfully. "How are you, darling?" He says as you pull back.

The pet name making you blush as you grin at him. You always knew Tom's eyes were blue, but jesus, you didn't realise just exactly how blue they are from up close. "I'm great now that I've finally met you," You chuckle, your hand gripping his bicep as he bites his lip lightly, smiling at you.

"Your eyes are really blue," You blurt out as he laughs, "I get that a lot," "Y/n! Tom! Can we get a picture of the two of you please?" Paparazzi calls out as you and Tom make eye contact, not realising how close your faces were before quickly looking away shyly.

"May I?" He says to you, asking if he could put his hand on your waist. What a gentleman. "Of course," You grin at him as he snakes his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip as your arm wraps around his waist.

The two of you looked good, good together. Throughout the night, you and Tom couldn't get away from each other. He was always by your side, even when you were doing interviews, and vice versa. His hand would rest on the small of your back protectively as you two navigated your way around.

Even at the dinner, he was coincidentally seated beside you which made you happy. You even recorded a video for your Instagram story about it and tagged him. The two of you hit it off straight away, exchanging numbers and even planning to meet up in a couple of days.

Being each other's celebrity crush blossomed into even more. Tom asked you to be his girlfriend after a few weeks of seeing each other and fans were going crazy, saying how he manifested it. You and Tom as a couple received so much support from everyone, including those in the acting industry saying how much of a talented young couple you were.

[munson-blurbs]

Best friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend gets a lot more than he bargained for when he walks in on you wearing only your Hellfire Club t-shirt.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), dry humping, thigh riding, cumming in pants

WC: 1.2k

A/N: Reader is described as wearing an oversized Hellfire t-shirt. This is her shirt, not Eddie's. There is no indication of her size whatsoever.

--

Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Your toothbrush is clenched in your hand, but instead of cleaning your teeth, it serves as a microphone while you dance around your bedroom. The stereo is playing loudly; you can’t even hear the creaking staircase floorboards over the music. 

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love’s gone be—AAAAH!

Your palm flies to your chest when you see Eddie standing in your doorway, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

“And here I thought I was the rockstar in this friendship,” he smirks, arms folded across his chest. 

Your heart rate slowly returns back to a pace that won’t send you to an early grave. “Jesus, Eddie! What are you doing here?”

“Figured I’d stop by,” he replies nonchalantly. “Y’know, you probably shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked while your folks aren’t home. Anyone could walk in off the street.” He flops onto your bed with an exaggerated exhale, looking pointedly in your direction. “Nice pants, by the way.”

Nice pants? You’re ready to sleep; an oversized Hellfire tee serving as your pajamas. You’re not even wearing—oh. 

You tug at the hem, but even after years of wear, it doesn’t stretch below your thighs. Heat blooms in your face. “Yeah, well,” you sputter, “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Eddie pouts. “You mean you didn’t wear that ‘specially for little ol’ me?” He ducks as you hurl your toothbrush at his head. He opens his mouth to say something before quickly clamping it shut, but not before you notice. 

“What?”

“N-Nothing.”

You cross your arms, more firm this time. “What?!”

“When you, uh, threw the toothbrush…your shirt…” His face turns bright red as he scrambles to explain. “…it, uh, kinda rode up.” His Adam’s apple bobs nervously. 

“It’s just underwear. You’ve seen me in a swimsuit before.” You try to hide your own embarrassment, playing it off coolly, but all you can think about is the fact that Eddie Munson saw your panties. 

He nods, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Right, yeah. Totally the same thing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I should get going.” He pushes on his knees, starting to stand up, but abruptly stops. “Actually, um, maybe I’ll hang out here for a bit, if you wanna maybe put…put something else on.” Pink embarrassment blooms in his cheeks, spreading down his neck. 

“No, I’m going to bed, and you’re leaving. We can get breakfast tomorrow morning or something.” You sigh when he doesn’t move, making your way to where he’s sitting. “C’mon, time to—”

Eddie attempts to hunch himself over, but there’s no hiding the hardening bulge straining behind his zipper. 

It’s only natural, you tell yourself. He’s a twenty-year-old guy; he’ll get a boner if the wind blows the wrong way. It doesn’t mean he’s into you. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. This is super weird, and I shouldn’t have come in without knocking.” He buries his head in his hands. “Just…give me a sec, okay?”

“Okay.” Now’s your chance. If there’s any time to find out if he’s into you, it’s when he’s sporting a stiffie in your bedroom. “Or…I could help you with it?”

His head whips around so fast that his curls are a blur of brown. “Wh-What? Like, help me…?” He’s desperate for you to finish his sentence, not wanting to say something that makes the situation even more awkward. 

“I can help you get off. If you want. Or you can just use my bathroom and, I dunno, rub one out.” You cringe at the phrasing. “No pressure.”

“Um, yeah. No pressure.” His thumbs circle each other, an anxious habit he’s had for years. “So if you were gonna help me out, what would that look like?”

You shrug, a half-smile gracing your lips. “I guess I’d do this first.” You place one hand on each of his shoulders, straddling his waist with your bare thighs. “And then I’d kiss you?”

“Mhm, please.” Eddie grips your hips as you lean in, mouths finding one another in unhurried splendor. He tastes like stale Camels and spearmint gum, only breaking the connection to trail his lips down your neck. 

It’s your favorite spot to be kissed, and the way his teeth nip at your flesh, tongue gliding over the mark as though sealing it in, has you grinding down on him. 

“Christ, honey,” he breathes, “you look so goddamn perfect like this.” His fingertips dig into your asscheeks possessively before one hand snakes its way up your shirt. You expect him to lift it above your head to expose your breasts, but he doesn’t. 

“Y-You can take it off,” you stammer, feeling silly as you say it aloud. 

Eddie shakes his head in refusal. “Next time.” Next time. It’s a promise you hope he’ll keep. “I just love the way you look in this shirt.” And nothing but this shirt, he thinks to himself. 

The friction of your cotton panties on his denim pants is delectable, providing just enough pressure to your aching clit. You’re greedy in your movements but make sure to give him what he needs, too. Your pussy rubs against his clothed cock; Eddie uses the hand on your ass to help guide your hips. 

“Thassit, oh, fuck,” he grunts, teased with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Right there, baby. Ohmygod, I’m gonna cum in my fuckin’ pants.”

“S’okay,” you murmur into his ear, gently biting the lobe, “‘m close, too. So close, holy shit.”

Sweat beads along his upper lip, his groans more needy and guttural. “‘M coming, ‘m coming, ‘m coming.” He babbles pathetically as sticky, wet warmth floods his boxers. You follow his lead, finishing on his somehow still-hard cock. 

The immediate aftermath is filled with panting breaths and sporadic giggles as the pleasure high fades and reality sets in. 

“Did we just—” Eddie starts, eyes wide in disbelief. 

You laugh, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “Mhm. We sure did.”

He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy from perspiration and activity. “So, um, what do we do now?” There are many unspoken questions woven into it. What does this mean for our friendship? Do we even have a friendship anymore? Was it as good for you as it was for me?

“Well…” You sit up a bit straighter, toying with the chain of his guitar pick necklace. “We can throw your stuff in the wash, and maybe while we’re waiting, we can get started on that next time you’d mentioned earlier?”

Eddie grins, kissing you with a fervor like you’ve never seen. “What are we waiting for?” He tugs off his pants and boxers, unashamed of the way he’s painted them with cum. When he notices you staring, he winks. “‘S a lot, isn’t it? Imagine how much it’ll be when I’m actually inside you.”

It doesn’t take long for either of you to find out.  

--

[tgcg]

bad mouther, hole master

TG: kissing with tongue is gross as hell

CG: COME THE FUCK OFF IT.

TG: what

CG: I'M SAYING SHUT UP.

TG: oh

CG: IT'S NOT THAT WEIRD. IT'S LIKE THE NATURAL PROGRESSION OF REGULAR KISSING TO EVENTUALLY INCLUDE THAT. IF YOU HAD ANY SEMBLANCE OF ROMANCE GHOSTING THROUGH THE DEVOLVING REMNANTS OF YOUR THINKPAN YOU'D APPRECIATE WHAT IT BRINGS TO THE NUTRITION PLATFORM OF ANY CONSENTING CONCUPISCENT RELATIONSHIP!

TG: youre talking about it like its a goddamn military weapon or some shit

TG: some kinda scientific fuckin method to fondle a dudes mouth with your own mouth thats

TG: thats gross

TG: this isnt supposed to be a debate before fuckin congress on the pros and cons of getting your mack on

TG: its i would say a reasonably personal thing to react about and thats just my reaction man you dont gotta arbitrate it

TG: and like why the hell do they have to linger on it so long in these movies do they really want me to immerse myself in people necking each other that much

TG: roll the sounds around in my earholes like im swilling a fine fuckin wine

TG: well my professional opinion is that shit tastes and sounds mad gross and tbh i havent seen a single movie where it was close to being any kind of necessary

TG: its just a cringy waste of everyones time

CG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, AND I DISAGREE WITH EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR IGNORANCE GASH, YOU LUMP OF TIGHT-LIPPED CLUELESSNESS.

TG: did you just homestar me

CG: FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, SINCE YOU'RE APPARENTLY DESPERATE TO START SHIT WITH ME RIGHT NOW: HAVE YOU EVER EVEN DONE IT?

TG: hell no

CG: THANK YOU FOR PROVING MY POINT.

TG: proving your point--

TG: bro have uh

TG: have YOU???

CG: EXCUSE ME? HAVE I WHAT?

TG: come on

TG: i walked into this stupid conversation with a fucking shovel and by god am i digging myself a damn hole big and wide enough for every dave across time to squeeze in so i might as well get cosy in this shit before we all start collectively shoving dirt in our mouths

TG: bet your ass im taking you down with me though

TG: grab your spade and get digging man

CG: GRAB MY WHAT????????

TG: just tell me

CG: ???????!!!!!!!!

TG: karkat

CG: NO!

TG: f-

CG: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!!! WHAT PART OF "SHUT UP" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND????

TG: wait no

TG: oh my god dude

TG: you can spin that shit all you want but you can do it the hell away from me

TG: i do not need to be hip to your weirdo foursquare fantasies

TG: patently not my business

CG: STOP RIGHT THERE. JUST SHUT IT. I AM PUTTING US OUT OF OUR MISERY RIGHT NOW. I AM CONDUCTING AN ACT OF MERCY ON THIS INSANE FUCKING CONVERSATION AND YOU ARE GOING TO ZIP YOUR LIPS AND TAKE IT.

CG: HERE IT IS: YOUR SINGLE OPPORTUNITY TO PRETEND YOU NEVER SAID THAT TO ME. I AM GOING TO FORGET YOU MADE A COMPLETE MOCKERY OF ME AND MY CULTURE THIS ONE TIME. AND LET YOU CONTINUE TO DIG YOUR STUPID, SHITTY HOLE.

CG: AND DAVE, I AM BEGGING YOU NOT TO WASTE IT.

CG: TO ANSWER YOUR SHOCKINGLY INAPPROPRIATE QUESTION, NO I HAVE NOT DONE IT.

CG: WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK.

CG: HAPPY?

TG: ……..

TG: way to defuse the situation solid work

TG: real gold star effort grabbin that lit wick and blowing on it

TG: ok first of all you asked me first so dont act like im the one being a weirdo about this

TG: second of all i didnt mean it like that and you know it

TG: THIRD of all what the hell was the point of engaging the knightly theatrics then if you cant even verify that shit

CG: WELL FUCK, SORRY DAVE! I GUESS I'M JUST A FUCKING ROMANCE ENTHUSIAST! I GUESS I GIVE A MAJOR SHIT ABOUT THE THING YOU'RE OPENLY MOCKING TO MY FACE! IS THAT SO IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO WRAP YOUR THOUGHT SPONGE AROUND?

CG: AND IT WAS COMPLETELY REASONABLE FOR ME TO ASK YOU THAT, YOU CONGEALED FETID NOOKSTAIN! MY STATUS ON THE MATTER HAS LITERALLY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE POINT EITHER OF US IS TRYING TO MAKE.

CG: TRY TO KEEP YOUR NUGBONE FROM CAVING IN ON ITSELF WHEN I DROP THIS BOMBSHELL: I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE OPINIONS ON THINGS I ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT, EVEN IF I HAVEN'T DONE THEM! I DON'T JUST GO TROUNCING THE FUCK ABOUT LOBBING MY UNFOUNDED OPINIONS AT PEOPLE LIKE I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. UNLIKE SOMEONE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INVOLVED IN THIS CONVERSATION WE'RE HAVING RIGHT NOW!

TG: youre

CG: I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU BY THE WAY. THE SOMEONE IS YOU.

TG: oh gimme a break

TG: bro youre going apeshit over something you havent even done

TG: you know what that sounds like to me it sounds like an overcompensating fake fan who doesnt get any

TG: you heard of troll napoleon complex

CG: AT LEAST I ACTUALLY FORMED MY OPINION BASED ON CAREFUL CONSIDERATION --

TG: -- oh yeah i bet huh

CG: -- INSTEAD OF JUST BANKING ON NUBJERK --

TG: -- not a real thing you just said

CG: -- REACTIONS AND WRINKLING MY SNIFF NUB AT ANY SIGNS OF GENUINE PHYSICAL INTIMACY!

TG: stop saying nub

CG: YOU EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BULGEWAD

TG: not too much worse than being a perpetual fountain of emotional diarrhea

CG: DON'T YOU DARE.

CG: DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO USE THAT AS A "GOTCHA", YOU--… YOU! FUCK!

TG: dude did you actually run out of insults

TG: okay this is getting concerning

TG: youre the international dude of verbal dunks

TG: that can not be happening

CG: AAGHRJRGHJRGRHJAGHRJGRHJAGRHJRGRHJRGRHRJR

TG: you cant run out of em youre like the ultimate peddler of hate

CG: YOU DON'T THINK I'M CRITICALLY AWARE OF THE HOOFBEASTSHIT I'M SPEWING NIGH FUCKING CONSTANTLY?! I AM PAINFULLY COGNIZANT OF HOW MORONIC EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS!!!!

TG: feel like ive done some damage here

CG: ESPECIALLY MYSELF!

TG: alright bud time to calm down

CG: YOU CALM DOWN!!!!

TG: okay whatever!

CG: WHATEVER!!!!!!!!

TG: jeez

…

TG: here

…

CG: UGH.

TG: yeah

TG: really glad stuff like this happens in private

CG: YEAH. SAME HERE.

CG: JEGUS, CAN WE GO BACK TO BEFORE WE HAD THIS CONVERSATION? I DON'T ASK YOU MANY FAVORS, SO SURELY YOUR SLURRY OF ILL-DEFINED TIME POWERS CAN ALLOW YOU TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

CG: JUST LIKE, WIPE THAT WHOLE THING OFF THE SLATE.

CG: LET'S START OVER. SAY, FIVE MINUTES AGO. HOW DOES THAT SOUND?

TG: what conversation?

CG: OKAY, GOTCHA.

[phantom-0-writer]

prompt 02: tim’s birthday present

Tim sat in his empty house at the empty dining table. The table was actually quite large; it had enough seats to sit at least 15 people. But there was just Tim there. 

His parents had promised and sworn up and down that they would come back in time for his birthday. He had everything planned out. He picked out the birthday cake, put on the candles, decorated, ordered his parents' favorite foods, his parents' favorite movie for movie night, popcorn the likes. But that morning, just when Tim was double checking to make sure everything was ready for the most perfect birthday ever, his parents had called to tell him that something really important had come up, and they wouldn’t be able to make it. Tim figured it was better than last year, at least they called this time. 

Tim stared down at the cake, the candles lit. He had heard online that people would make wishes on their birthday cake and blow it out. Tim thought that was a weird thing to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

What should he wish for? It would have to be something special that he doesn’t already have. Tim thought for a long moment, the candles bleeding into the frosting of the cake. 

A brother. 

Tim closed his eyes and put his hands together like he’s seen the other children to do in the cartoons. And Tim wished for a big brother. When he finally wished hard enough (whatever that meant) he opened his eyes and blew out what was left of the candles. 

Tim waited. What exactly was he supposed to do now? In the cartoons, everyone would celebrate and cheer and the birthday boy would open his presents. There wasn’t anyone to cheer for Tim, or any presents for him to open. 

Suddenly the house shook, and the loud sound of a crash sound came from the backyard. Quickly, Tim did the sensible thing and go check out what the noise was. That's what the characters always did in horror movies. 

In Tim’s backyard, there was what looked like a weird space ship that had crashed into his backyard. There wasn’t any fire or anything, but the spaceship looked pretty wrecked. Getting closer, Tim could vaguely make out that someone was inside the spaceship. Looking around, he saw what looked like maybe the handle. Tim couldn’t really tell. 

When Tim put his hand on it and tried to open it, something poked out mechanically and pricked his finger. He flinched back instinctively, caressing his finger tip.

“Recognized: Danny Fenton. System Override.” A robotic lady spoke. Who is Danny Fenton? As if to answer him, the space ship opened its hatch, and inside was an unconscious black haired teenager. “System Malfunctioning. Please Assis-” The robotic voice spoke again, before getting cut off as if the power had died. 

Suddenly, Tim remembered his wish. A big brother. 

This was Danny Fenton, and he was supposed to be Tim’s big brother

----

When Danny woke up, he found himself in a very soft plush something. Something that definitely wasn’t the Spector Speeder. Alarmed, he sat up quickly to find that he didn’t recognize where he was at all. He also didn’t recognize the weird kid that was staging at him from two feet away. 

“Hi, I’m Tim. Timothy Drake.” The boy introduced himself almost business like. 

“Uh, hi Tim.” Danny responded awkwardly. “You got any idea where I am?” Danny sat up properly, moving the blanket (?) off of him and turned to face the weird and kinda creepy kid. 

“You’re in Drake Manor. Which is where I live.” He answered again. 

“Ok…ay” Danny nodded thoughtfully. “Any idea how I got here?” Truthfully, Danny hadn’t really been expecting an answer, but he still got one. 

“Because I made a birthday wish to have a big brother.” He answered in the same way he had answered the other question, very matter-of-factly. 

“Ok- Wait. What?” Danny asked, doing a double take at Tim. 

“You’re supposed to be my big brother, right?” Tim was starting to look a little hesitant, and as weirded out as Danny felt he couldn’t help but feel bad about the whole situation. 

“Where are your parents, Tim?” 

“There not home, because they had really important things to do for work.” 

Danny nodded. “Do you know when they’ll be back?” 

Tim shook his head. “They were supposed to come back today, because it’s my birthday. But they said they couldn’t make it.” 

Well, shit. Didn’t that sound awfully like Danny’s birthdays before he had given up on his parents showing up. At least he had Jazz. This kid looked like he was alone. 

Not liking the silence, Tim started fidgeting again. “So, are you gonna be my brother, then?” 

And what was Danny supposed to say, No? Besides, if he was really causing problems being in this random universe, then Clockwork would figure it out. 

Bonus: 

Danny sat at Tim’s dinner table, the kid looking at him radiating in excitement, each with a plate of stupid expensive pasta in front of them. “You said your name was Tim, right?” Danny started thoughtfully. Tim nodded, drinking up everything Danny said. “Well, first course of action as you, big brother. I need to give you a nickname.” 

Tim’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Like what?”

Danny tapped his chin exaggeratedly, “Hm… Tim, Tim.” Turing the name around while he absentmindedly twirled his fork between his fingers, Danny wondered what he should come up with. Suddenly, in a misplaced strength, Danny’s fork flew out of his hand. 

Before Danny could even say anything, “I’ll get you a new one!” Tim offered quickly. Getting up from his chair, his foot got tangled behind the leg of the chair and Tim fell quietly on the floor with an oof. 

Danny laughed at him. “You okay, Timbers?” He asked, getting up to check on the boy. 

“Yeah, I like Timbers.” Tim said, a bright smile on his face despite the blossoming bruise on his arm.

------------

table of contents

[princessbrunette]

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅PRINCESSBRUNETTES SCREAM SALON INTRODUCES … ໒꒰ྀི ˃̵ ࿁ ˂̵ ꒱ྀིა

PLAYING DANGEROUS ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

♩ lana del rey — playing dangerous ♩

pairing: detective!johnb x reader.

cw: mentions of a murder, reader is a murderer, mentions of the law, slight age gap, abuse of power, sexual content.

you are responsible for your own media consumption. welcome to kinktober day two.

nothing ever happens in this town.

nothing worth talking about anyway. only god knows why john b was stationed out here. what kind of detective work was there to do out in the sticks you might ask? jack all, that’s what. nothing but the occasional stolen tractor, and one time — oh, one time, somebody vandalised the town statue outside the city hall, leaving john b to figure out who did it. now that one was real exciting, he knows he’s not meant to — but he secretly loved the smart criminals. made his job just that bit more exciting. the vandal took out the security cameras facing the monument, and also had questionable motive for the graffiti. took john b the whole of two days to figure out who did it, and they didn’t even get an arrest. just a hefty fine. the criminals round here were boring as ever.

until you.

a murder, in his small town. it rocked everyone, as you can imagine. everyone knew everyone round here, which made things all that more interesting. a young man’s house had been burnt down, with him inside of it. john b had to commend you, you’d sent him out with a bang, not even bothering with a boring method of murder, more paperwork sure but god was it worth it. a real case, hell — he cracks this one and they might even move him up to the city. get him on some real jobs.

now not only were you apparently this young man’s scorned ex lover, the kid apparently being some kind of serial cheater — but john b had asked around, and apparently you hadn’t been careful enough to cover your tracks when purchasing large amounts of gasoline. to him, it was pretty obvious who’d done it— but there was procedures he had to take. things aren’t always as they seem, and john b couldn’t afford to jump the gun and ruin his chances at a promotion.

knock, knock, knock.

it’s late, he’s aware. 9PM isn’t the most appropriate time to show up at a perps door, but hell — with this case came a buttfuck load of paperwork that he hadn’t been doing before and it had taken up all his time. now it was time for some real action, his stomach stirs in excitement. shit, his cock almost hardens.

he starts observing you before you’ve even greet him. the sound of socked feet on wood. do you sound hesitant? frightened? confident and unknowing? is there an air of acceptance to your walk, knowing you commit the heinous crime? he pretends not to notice the jostling of curtains in the window at the front of the house as you undoubtedly take a peak. he figured that was fair, as it was so late — rocking comfortably back and forth on his feet with his hands behind his back.

you take another minute to answer, so he frowns, letting out a little whistle and going to knock again. “uh, are you—”

you swing open the door, big stepford smile on your face. here we go.

“officer?”

“detective.” the brunette flashes his badge, tight and polite smile as he peers into your hallway. “i’m sorry to drop by so late ma’am is this… this a good time?” he’s awkward, young in nature and not so much in stature, the lines in his forehead and around his eyes already telling you he’s a bit older. as you observe him right back, he clears his throat and fixes his tie.

“of course, detective.” you correct with a smile, a knowing one — like you were sharing a joke between friends. he’s unsettled by your energy.

“‘don’t mind if i come inside then do ya? kinda… chilly tonight.” he stuffs his hands in his pockets, pivoting his body round to glance at the blowing trees. your expression settles like you’d been waiting for him to ask, and you widen the door gap — exposing all of you. you stand in the littlest night gown, white silk against your skin and john b feels like letting out a comical gulp. he didn’t think you’d be beautiful. where do beautiful girls get off murdering people? beautiful girls could have whatever they want.

“my, i’m a little shy standing here in my nightgown.” you converse as he passes you, acknowledging that you did infact catch him looking. he says nothing, just smiles and huffs out an awkward chuckle from his nose as he respectfully dusts his boots off on your welcome mat before strolling inside. the house was dark, lit only by candles and you follow him to the living room.

“tea? coffee?” you offer and he lowers himself into an arm chair, patting the quilted arms a few times with his large flat hands. he wants to scoff, knowing better than to take a drink from a probable murderer.

“wh— oh no no, this uh. this shouldn’t take long.” he watches you just as carefully as you watch him, and you make the conscious decision not to sit. you stay standing infront of him, skin glowing in the low light. you were wearing so close to nothing it was distracting to a pent up, perpetually single man like john b. he feels like loosening his tie.

“very well then, detective. what seems to be the issue?”

“do you know anything about a fire, ma’am?” he sounds hesitant, eyes wide but only in the way where he’s stiff with observation, not wanting to miss a second of a tell you might give. there’s a pause of hesitation before you nod, crossing your arms over yourself. unfortunately the only note taken there was that the action pressed your tits together.

“yes. very tragic.”

“yeah, no for sure… not many fires in this town right? got down to a record break last year. only three fires and they were pretty small.” he converses, relaxing a little into the seat. you stay on your feet.

“was bound to happen at some point i suppose. men have a habit of being reckless, leaving things switched on and so on. probably fell asleep with a candle burning.” you sway, eyes flickering to your own candles like you were imagining the same fate for yourself.

“for sure, for sure…” john b nods slowly, taking a moment to look down at his lap as he thinks. where he looks back up, you’re staring.

“he was a uh, boyfriend of yours — if my intel is correct?”

“ex. ex boyfriend.” you correct, jaw tightened just a smidgen like you couldn’t help yourself. john b stares you down, infact he could swear his lips quirk upward just a tiny bit. he’d so got you.

he settles a little more, resting his elbow on the arm of the seat so he could prop up his chin, staring at you with a knowing look.

“mind telling me where you were on sunday evening?” shit.

he watches the shift of emotion on your face, the way it falls ever so slightly before immediately lifting again, like you had full faith on yourself. you smile, huffing out a breathy little giggle as you tilt your head to the side like a confused puppy.

as you speak, you slowly begin to slip the strap of your nightgown down the smooth skin of your shoulder. “gosh, i barely remember. i spend so much time here… all lonely… was probably… keeping myself company, if you catch my meaning, officer.”

“detective.” he rasps, eyes following the strap like the weakling he is. he clears his throat.

“apologies, detective.” you correct, before pulling down the other strap. “you mind if i slip into something a little more comfortable before we continue with this?” you shoot him the innocent doe eyes. he raised his eyebrows, and you drop the nightgown to your feet anyway, naked as the day you were born. “much better.”

john b chuckles, tilting his head to the side as he looks up at you. “this what we’re doing now?” he deadpans with that warm friendly smile that drew you closer.

you giggle, and this time it’s actually authentic, stepping closer until you brave straddling his lap. he winces like you’d placed hot iron on him.

“is it working?” you try your luck, and he’s distracted by the fat of your hips, his coarser hands sliding up them to grab at the meat of them, watching the way your folds part around his growing bulge through his black work pants.

“ugh, i don’t know.” he groans quietly. he knew there was another version of him somewhere, behind glass, watching this all go down. he’d pound on the glass, telling himself to stop, that he was throwing away everything all for some pussy — but the truth was, he was lonely too. this life didn’t leave much room for… socialising.

knowing you were close to breaking him, you roll your hips, letting out an exaggerated whimper as you watch his hands slide up to your tits. “m’sure i can change your mind somehow detective. you really don’t wanna put those tight handcuffs on me, i’m only a fragile girl.”

“fuuuucking shit.” he groans in despair, and you feel his hardness wedged up beneath you.

it’s not even five minutes later and you’ve got him inside of you, his pants around his ankles — a true testament to the way you’d caught him out, used his loneliness against him and it didn’t even take any convincing, he cracked pretty much immediately. shit, he loved his job — but maybe he didn’t wanna go big city cop after all.

your hips went from rolling to aggressive bouncing, your teeth grit, primal and forceful like you couldn’t help yourself. the sweet little mewls you let out after each bounce didn’t match the sheer force at which you were milking him. over the harsh plap plap plap sound — you lean forward to his ear.

“why you lettin’ me get away with it detective? s’it cos you like me? do you like me?” god you were insane, but the neediness in your voice filled a hole he’d craved. he’d always wanted one of those girlfriends, the type that cares too much, wanna know his every move. he knew it was wrong, hell — you’d killed someone. but something about it was getting him off just as much as it was you.

despite being older than you by quite a bit, his eyes held this puppy like quality to them, a youthful gaze he stares up at you with. “because you’re pretty. really pretty, and uh — you’re young.” wow, he was messed up. he’s not even sure why he said the last part, everything was just so twisted.

he was aware of how much he was screwing himself. but hey, john b had always been a sucker for doe eyes and pretty tits, so who could blame the man?

[san8ny]

Knee Socks.

an: i got like 2 other works lined up, but here’s some slowburn, emphasis on burn; the smallesttt of nsfw at the end by ellie; ARCTIC MONKEYS REFERENCE?!

Ellie's gaze involuntarily flicks downwards, her eyes taking in the sight of your shorts riding up your thighs. She's mesmerized by the softness of skin, the curves of your body, the way you’re innocently watching the show— you, who was unaware of the perverse heat Ellie was supressing herself, rubbing her olive toned thighs together in an uncomfortable manner.

She wants to reach out and touch, but she knows that's the last thing she should be thinking about. She's already a mess of emotions as it is, and adding desire to the mix would only make things worse. Surely it wasn’t her fault to think like this?

"Are you comfortable?" Ellie rasps out, unable to help herself from asking the question, who wouldn’t? A pretty girl sprawled on her comically animated bedsheets, her plain black work shorts hugging her upper thighs, revealing soft inner-thigh pudge with little stickers of celllulite,

“uh-huh” you reply back sweetly, looking over your shoulder to where Ellie sits against the pillows near the headboard while you’re layed on your stomach near the foot of the bed, I’ll get a better view here you’d told her earlier when you two got back from work and began hanging out at her place. Oh, did she mention you two met eachother at work?

She still remembers the way she would follow you around everywhere when you were showing her around the place, teaching her the ropes. Ah, make sure you don’t get here thaaat late, ‘aight? Manager is pretty chill but she’s kinda bitchy during rush mornings, you’d said with warm eyes and a downturned smile right before walking away.

"Good," Ellie replies quietly, now being brought back to where you two currently lazed on her comforter. She can't help but also notice how your shirt has ridden up slightly, revealing the ittiest sliver of your lower back. She sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes glued to the exposed skin. She wants to trace her fingers over the soft expanse of flesh, but she forces herself to stay still.

“When are they gonna kiss already?” You exclaim clearly edged on from the show, your elbows giving up as you face-fall fully onto the bed now; the fabric of your shirt slightly twists around your waist, “All this talk is making me wanna sleep.” you say muffled into the bed,

The said bed creaks ever so slightly as Ellie scoots forward, “That eager to see people make-out? Crazyyy..” She snorts, finding her hands lightly beginning to massage at your calves.

You melt into the touch, airily giggling as you back up into her alittle; it wasn’t uncommon for you two to massage each other after a long shift yall worked, We’ll save money you told eachother that day.

propping your head up, you lay it on folded forearms instead, the attention on the show is long-gone; all that could really be focused on was how skilled the auburnette was as she kneaded at tensed muscles; Had the temperature gone up? You groan when her hands roam up your thigh, now making their mark at somewhere that had been sore for time, a slightly healed injury you’d gotten during an accident at work where you pulled a muscle,

“Yeah? Right ‘ere?” She mumbles to you, readjusting her position on the bed to slightly hover over the back of your hips as she works deep circles into place you hadn’t even thought were knotted, “Mhm..” you hum back, glossy orbs now closed as you enjoy the sensational warmth that came over your body. God, she was a pro.

Ellie’s hands now began to climb to your hips, her thumbs drawing figure 8’s with the rest of her digits tightening a grip on your sides for a moment before letting them go in short pulses. By now, her face was lined up with the back of your neck, slight hairs standing up as she lightly blows at it; a cheshire smile on her stretched lips when she notices the scrunch inbetween your brows. She wanted you to feel this as much as she was,

“Feels s’good Els..” You sigh contentedly, fluttering your eyes open and turning your head slightly to the side as you look to where she was above you, her upper body fully now pressing, and laid on your back by now.

Ellie’s face was lightly flushed, canines biting down on her rosey, chapped bottom lip as they drew slight blood; How could feeling you up feel so good for her if she wasn’t even the one feeling it? The sight brought a small smile to you as you sat up, Ellie now seeing the initiative to sit back down on her haunches rather than her knees, and not on you importantly. You slightly lean in, brushing her slightly sweaty bangs away from her forehead; “Thank you for that. I really needed it.” You gently say, cupping her cheek before dropping it down to grab your phone, looking at the device,

“Ugh, ‘almost 12, I gotta get going. See you tomorrow at work?”

Ellie doesn’t even realize how dazed she looks before running a clammy hand down face in an attempt to wake herself up, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll pick you up actually.”

You nod as you two make yourselves out of her dark room, and into the dimly lit hallway, towards the front door, “Okay! Bye Ellie, I had fun by the way!” is what you tell her as you skip over to your car.

She doesn’t even say a ‘bye’ back before hastingly slamming the entrance shut, sliding down the door as she buries her face in her once balled up palms; she spreads her thighs slowly, noticing the growing wet spot on her shorts as it dawns on her what just has happened.

You had her so fucked up.

[holycrimin]

In honor of me getting my first ever TMNT Comic,

here's Leo with a crush who gets overly excited when gifted something they're obsessed/hyperfixated with (cough definitely not me cough)

while I did buy the comic for myself (it was an Eastman and Laird's TMNT adventure special) I wanted to explore this more because my brain is way too active and i need an outlet lol

pls dont blame me if its a little ooc, im trying my best and this is impulsive T0T

note: Reader uses they/them, Leo is a massive dork, semi proofread

2012!Leo x Expressive!Reader

Saw something he thought you'd like while on patrol,

"Hey guys, you think they'll like this?" He looks throught the window.

They snicker and shit on him (lovingly in a sibling way)

Whether it was a poster or figurine or comic, he's getting that baby just for you

Obviously he'd get it by paying because stealing would be wrong.

And by paying he means snatching it in the middle of the night and leaving a twenty with an apology note

Because that's what heroes do

anyway

Hops up to your apartment,

(with his brothers watching from the shadows because they absolutely cannot resist a good show. yes, even Donnie; like a true hypocrite)

He makes sure that neither your parents are there with you and he knocks on the window

You, with your ultra smart brain, immediately knew it was him because it was either that or a murderer that climbed up to specifically your window to murder you

which was unlikely, but hey, so was being friends with a giant turtle

You open your window and are immediately greeted with a shiny (not-so-brand new) comic/poster/figurine of the thing you talked about nonstop for weeks. maybe months. actually now that you think about it it mightve been year—

"Hey."

"Wh-"

"No way. NO WAY." You take it out of his hands (gently) and look at it in awe, before looking up at him with a dazzled expression

(If you squinted you could see sparkles coming off of you)

"What- Where- Dude. Where'd you even find this?!" A wide grin on your face as you look at him.

"Oh y'know.. Patrol and fighting bad guys, awesome stuff. Uh, then, y'know.. I found some merch that I thought you'd like."

"Dude he's seriously blowing this." one of the guys (mikey) whisper. "Yeah, he's worse than Donnie." he says, earning a 'Hey!' from Donnie.

Leo glares at them for a second before turning his attention back to you.

You let out a giddy giggle, "ahh! dude!"

"Dude." You set it down gently and put both of your hands on his shoulders. "I. Love you. So much. You know that?"

He blushes a little, "Well, I mean, it's not really a big de-"

"Not a big deal?! DUDDEE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Is this a marriage proposal?" You say, shaking him a little.

"Wh- um.. What?" Leo lets out a weak chuckle, he feels his face heating up. "Because I accept. Let's get married, I love you so much. Oh my god, you have no idea-"

Ohhh god.

Yeah, that does it.

Well, even more than it already has.

"Whahahaha... Okay, uh, You don't really mean that, do y-" Oh.

"..Oh, sorry, is that too far? I mean, I do it with my other friends, but I'm not sure- Leo?" Yeah, no this is going to kill him. Kinda pathetic, huh? That a kiss on the cheek could send him spiraling just like that.

"Ah.. hahahah! Okay cool, haha.. uh, bye! I'll ah.. see you tomorrow? yep. Yeah. Okay, bye!"

He runs off.

Aw crap.

Did you do something wrong? God, you hope not. Maybe you should tone it down next time.

"Smooth moves brother, really got them falling for you."

"Shut up."

------------------------

Total writing time: idk like 15-20 mins?

Any fellow fic writers feel free to take inspo or even write a direct sequel to this, I just really like this idea and would absolutely love to read more abt it lol

[rottenblur]

So soaked|A.ANDERSON

Part two to post workout pump | 2k words

Summary: After a successful night with your tinder hookup you spend a very eventful morning with her further proving she’s the one for you, and that you’ll never shower alone again.

Warning: smut, dirty talk, shower sex, head, fingering, abby being the cutest, choking, domestic ass abby, kinda fluff???

The touch of soft sheets against your bare legs, you wiggle them around then realize this wasn’t the couch, your eyes open. You gaze around, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, she had carried you to her bed? Without waking you?

Who was she, what was this? Were you in some kind of romance movie? You look at the bedside table, a glass of water and a book.

You really didn’t take in much of the bedroom, didn’t look to see if she had good “interior design” you were too busy moaning her name, well you were caught up in the moment for sure.

You move the duvet past your elbows then look to the other side of the bed. You run your hands across the sheets, you wonder if she slept with you.

You sit up, god. You hadn’t thought about it but maybe fucking then spending the night with someone you just met, off tinder of all places wasn’t the smartest on your part.

You look at the floor, to your discarded clothes, brushing it off then grabbing your phone. You look at it, it’s dead. You lean back onto the bed then stand up.

You walk through the bedroom doorway to the living room, grazing your free hand on the white door frame. You look around the living room, for a cord to plug your phone into, you look up at the closed door the opposite side to Abby’s door.

You shouldn’t snoop, but where was she? Did she fuck and dip in her own house? You lay down your phone on the coffee table, and walk to the door. Hovering your hand on the door knob, you lean in. Behind the door you hear heavy breathing and grunting, oh.

You crack the door open, knowing damn well how rude it probably was. You see her, sweaty with her hair down with nothing but a sports bra and boxers on. They were tight around her leg muscles, nothing like how they looked on you. Her arm freckles shiny from the natural sunlight peaking in.

She mutters a quiet “fuck.” as she presses the weights down to her chest then pushes them back up, her hand engulfing the bar. She puts the bar back on the holder, wary of making any noise she must think you’re still asleep. It’s stalkerish how you’re watching her, when she sits up and pushes her light locs behind her ear it almost makes you squeeze your legs together.

She grabs a white towel off the floor, she pats it on her forehead, you pan your eyes how her legs are spread wide on the bench. You pull yourself from continuing to watch her like a creep and knock on the already cracked open door.

She looks at you, her face lightening up. “Hey uh, sorry for creeping on up, my phone is dead so-“ she smiles and stands up. “Of course, in the kitchen.”

She walks you to the kitchen guiding you there with a hand on your hip, you plug in your phone and watch the screen light up. The notifications from your friends asking how the date went flood in, Abby leans down to kiss your neck. “Goodmorning, sleep well?” She asks, you drop your phone back into the counter and tilt your head for easier access.

“So good.” You mutter under your breath. She sucks on a special spot just below your eye and releases with a pop. “Wanna shower with me?” She whispers into your ear, placing delicate kisses in between words. Her hand dancing around your waist, how could you say no. You nod, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She twirls you around, she peeks behind you at your phone blowing up. “I can answer those later.” You say and smile, she smiles back.

She walks you to the bathroom, your hand in hers. She turns on the shower, putting your hand under the water to make sure it’s the perfect temperature for you, it’s the little things about her that make you crazy.

She kisses your forehead then strips you out of your clothes, you step into the shower letting the water refresh you after the events of last night. She strips off her clothes and steps in right behind you. You turn around to face her, she looks down at you and for the first time she looks shy.

You can’t focus on any thoughts with how fucking adorable she looked, like a scary dog that only wants to cuddle. You put your arms around her neck and kiss her cheek, she grabs your chin directing it to her lips. She pulls away with a smile on her face, you reach over to her array of body products, but she stops you.

“Let me.” She says and grabs the body wash, she squirts out a decent amount and starts forming suds all over your body. The shower filled with the scent of pine and sandalwood, her in the purest form.

She turns you around, moving her hands from your arms to your chest, god the adrenaline she gave you every time she touched you. Butterflies from your stomach right down to where it matters. She moves her hand down to your stomach, she rests her hands on your hips as the suds wash off.

You can feel her breathing down your neck, sending shivers right down your spine flush with her exposed body. She turns you around one last time, she takes the remaining suds rubbing them across your ass, she’s not shy enough to not grab your ass right now.

You look at her face, then down to her sud covered chest and stomach, the strawberry blonde hair peeking out from in between her muscled thighs. You feel your breath hitch, then you look back up at her, fuck you were lucky.

You had known her barely 24 hours and you were butt ass naked in her shower as she washed your body. All because of some stupid dating app.

She leans down, kissing along your neck to your collarbones, the remainder of suds washing away as she places her hands back onto your ass. She pulls you closer to her by the grip on your ass, her body flush to yours.

“You look so fucking adorable darling.” You whine out a response as she kisses the perfect spot on your neck. It’s surely to be bruised after this shower, she attaches her plush lips to yours.

Transferring one hand to your neck with a gentle squeeze by her fingertips, the other to the back of your thigh. She walks you to the shower wall, hand still tightly wrapped on your neck. “You want this?” She asks, you nod. “More than you could know, I need it.”

You admit, she looks at you for a second then removes her hand from your neck, she kneels before you then puts a thigh on her freckled shoulder, she holds it there as she leans into where you need her.

Her lips connect to your heat, the water dribbling over the two of you making you feel hotter than you were. She licks a stripe up your clit then sucks on it, she looks up at you then mumbles something incoherent.

You tangle your hands into her hair, your back flush to the damp tiles. “Huh?” You ask her, as if her mouth wasn’t preoccupied by devouring you.

She looks back down, disconnecting her mouth, then her eyes come back to your face. “I could spend all day between your thighs.” She says with a smirk.

Blush covers your face as those blue eyes stare at you so innocently, after saying such a vile thing to you. You huff at her pulling her mouth back to you to shut her up, if she kept talking like that you wouldn’t last long.

Her grip on your thigh gets tighter, her mouth quickens her tongue dancing across your clit so perfect and planned. If you looked at her for too long, how her hand wrapped around your thigh, how she was on her knees for you, your knees weaken.

She caught on to your tightly shut eyes in concentration making sure not to miss a single flick of her tongue, she made it impossible to not look at her.

She looked up at you and pulled her mouth away, replacing it with a hand drawing slow and gentle circles on your clit, torture. “You’re gonna watch me eat your perfect fucking pussy or I won’t eat it at all.” She says to you, no she demands you.

You nod quickly. “Please, I will.” You beg her, your hips bucking at her slow fingers. “Good, good girl.” She says and leans back in, but this time it was different. It’s almost like that knowing you were watching her pulled something feral out of her because she fucking ate you up.

Her mouth attacked you like it was craving you for years, it was aggressive but not sloppy, it almost had more precision than before. You feel your knees weaken, you almost couldn’t stand. “F- fuck Abs I can’t ‘m gonna-.” You stuttered out to her and before you could finish your sentence she had dropped your thigh and stood up.

“Not yet darling.” She said towering over you, she grabs your chin and kisses you, you can taste yourself binded with her spit, your legs felt like they had melted long ago.

She pulls away, her hand wrapping around your throat keeping you in place, she looks at you as she slips her fingers inside you. Your walls clenching around them, she moves them gently then connects her lips with yours.

You push your tongue into her mouth, she groans into your mouth. Her hand on your neck tightens, making you feel lighter, her fingers speeding up, with force and intention the tips curling to your favourite spot to be abused. Her kisses are just as aggressive as her hands, your teeth banging with urgency and need.

You feel your walls begin to pulse, she pulls away from you to watch you come undone all over her. She nods at you as you whimper her name. “Just like that, such a beautiful little thing.” She says with a smirk as she attacks your gummy walls with a thrust of her fingers one last time.

She pulls out, her hand loosening from around your neck, you stare at her freckled face as you come down from your high.

She smiles at you, giving you a kiss and wiping a wet strand of hair out of your face, she holds your jaw for a moment just stroking your cheek with her thumb. She could be so sweet then be so aggressive in only ways you want her to be.

“You okay?” She asks, in a genuine tone. You nod with a smile, she smirks back. “Definitely more than okay.” You say wrapping your arms around her. “Ready to get out?” You tilt your head, did she just ask you to leave? “..of the shower darling.” She laughs, you almost laugh with her.

She wraps you in a towel, and sits you on her bed to wait for clothes, you didn’t want clothes around her. You wanted her to stare at every inch of your body 24/7 and personally you think she’d like it.

“Do you want pants or-“ she asks you and you shake your head, there was no need. You get dressed in a hoodie of hers and watch her slip on a t-shirt that was loose on her for once, made her look cute.

After you both got dressed she led you out the living room giving you a kiss and sitting next to you on the couch. She looks over at the kitchen then to you. “I’m going to make breakfast okay? You hungry?” She asks.

You smile at her. “Always.”

A/n: sorry i havent posted in so long why is writing fluff SO HARD i wanna post part three to my college abby