#pastry courses online

[gurugirl]

The Big Tease | bfd!harry

*photo is for t-shirt placement visual only. please picture who you like as reader.

best friend's dad!harry x reader - forbidden relationship au

Summary: based loosely on this request - Harry comes to your place to make sure you're taking care of yourself and you find that as hard as you try to tease him, he's not giving in to you and then some high emotions are exposed.

Word Count: 7.8k words

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, angst, age gap, cheating

bfd!harry masterlist

You tried not to feel guilty about what you were doing with a married man. Your best friend’s dad. It was hard when it came to keeping it a secret from everyone. Keeping it a secret from Fae.

“Where’d you get this?” Fae brushed her fingers over the pretty little bracelet Mr. Styles gave you a few nights before. It was gold with three round light-colored opals in the center and two round-cut tiny diamonds on either side. It was dainty and sweet and you knew it was expensive after googling the brand and finding the exact item available online and in high-end shops nearby.

“Ahh… my mom and dad got it for me a while ago. Just haven’t worn it in a long time. Forgot it about,” you lied with a shrug. Lying to her made you nauseous.

“Really? How could you forget about this? It’s gorgeous! Looks really pretty on you too,” she complimented and you frowned as you looked down at it.

You hated lying to your best friend. But what could you do? You certainly wouldn’t admit to your affair with her father. And of course, you weren’t quite feeling guilty enough to put an end to it either. Mr. Styles was the best you’d ever had and you were completely smitten with him.

When you two finally made it back to your apartment after shopping and eating and stopping at the ice cream shop for a treat you’d also forgotten all the lovely flowers you had sitting around your living room and kitchen.

It had also become a thing where you’d get the most exquisite bouquets delivered to you every Monday morning. Peonies, roses, phalaenopsis orchids, and gardenias all stuffed with hardly any filler. You knew the bouquets he was sending you were hundreds of dollars a pop. But they were breathtaking.

You quickly assessed in your mind whether or not you’d removed the cards from them which would have given everything away should Fae see. Unlocking your door and letting yourself in first you quickly glanced around and the freshest bouquet clearly still had its card poking out of it. You made a beeline across the room as Fae closed your door behind her and plucked the tiny card out, crumpling it in your hand, and then bent down next to the table to pretend you were doing something else.

“Those are so pretty, Y/n. Oh my god. Do you have a flower service or something?”

You had three bouquets placed around your living room. One was clearly old and some of the flowers were drooping, losing their vibrant colors, while the newer ones were full of soft pinks and purples, crisp white and cream…

“Yes. I decided to start treating myself to nice flowers every week.” You smiled. Another lie. You couldn’t afford a weekly delivery of these kinds of flowers and if Fae bothered to research how expensive bouquets like this were she’d have questioned you further. But luckily she didn’t.

The bracelet, the flowers, your glow… all things she noticed, could have been an indicator of a lover but as far as you could tell she hadn’t connected the dots. Or at least she didn’t voice it to you.

Of course, everything could be explained. But she was your best friend. If you weren’t more vigilant, she’d be catching on soon, you were sure.

.           .           .

The following day after a morning shift at the restaurant you arrived home and collapsed on your couch. It was exhausting. The restaurant was only open for breakfast and brunch on the weekend (where normally it’s only a dinner spot the rest of the week) and it was slammed. Mimosas, eggs benedict, fancy French tarts, and pastries, huge parties of people, music, guests nursing hangovers… The restaurant was well known for its weekend breakfast and brunch with bottomless mimosas and Bloody Marys. The clientele were usually upper-class folks who didn’t mind spending $35 for their mimosa and then only ordering 2 when they could have had as many as they wanted. A local creamery provided butter, yogurt, and milk for your special breakfast dishes, and a bowl of fancy yogurt and some in-house granola was $15. The cheapest food item on the breakfast menu. The cheapest item on the menu was a cup of black coffee, refillable. Unless you ordered the free tap water.

You got lucky to eat anything while you served breakfast. It was typically too busy to take a bite of anything. But the tips were excellent because everyone was usually in a great mood.

You were startled awake by your phone vibrating in your back pocket. You’d fallen asleep without even realizing you’d closed your eyes.

Pulling the phone out from under your body you realized it was Harry calling you (he normally didn’t call unless it was prearranged).

“Hello?” You sat up as you answered.

“Baby! I was worried. Are you okay? I didn’t hear back from you.”

Harry had a thing where he wanted you to text him when you got home from work to let him know you made it safely, even if it was a morning shift. He was always so worried about you but you kind of loved it.

“I’m fine. Sorry! I fell asleep as soon as I sat down on the couch. God, I’m so exhausted. Fae was here late last night and then I had the breakfast shift so I only had like four hours of sleep…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I was just worried. I texted you and then never heard back. Just started to panic. Have you eaten?”

You smiled and his soft deep voice made you feel so comfortable and safe, “I haven’t eaten yet. I had a bit at work but just passed out as soon as I got here.”

“So you’ve only had something to eat at work? It’s already dinnertime, Y/n.”

Harry did have a tendency to sort of scold you like he was your dad. Maybe it was ingrained in him in some ways. To try and take care of you and remind you to do things like eat.

“Geez, Dad. I’ll get right on it,” you teased.

Harry was silent for a moment, which had you worried. Perhaps calling him ‘dad’ had been unwise.

But then suddenly his voice broke through the line, “I’m coming over. I have a feeling you don’t have any groceries and I’m gonna make you dinner. Something to eat.”

You scoffed, “I mean… I have food here. I will eat. You don’t have–“

“I’ll be there within an hour,” he interrupted and you nodded to yourself.

“O… Okay. Um… yeah. In an hour.”

.           .           .

You quickly showered and tossed your dirty clothes into your clothes hamper so they weren’t strewn about your bedroom floor. You tidied up and kept yourself busy until he finally arrived. You were getting all worked up knowing he was coming over.

You didn’t know what he had been telling Mrs. Styles about why he was leaving or when he’d stay with you overnight, or spend hours in your bed every week. Though there were times he could only come over quickly, most of the time he stayed with you long enough that he’d need a good cover story. You kind of hoped you could have him for the night.

When he knocked at your door and you opened it up for him you saw he had his hands full. One arm around a sack of groceries and in his other hand the bag he normally packed for when he was staying the night.

You smiled when you saw his handsome face and ushered him into your small apartment. He leaned in to kiss you quickly, “Just showered?” He asked.

“Well yeah,” you spoke as you closed the door and followed behind him to your kitchen, “I didn’t have the chance earlier because I fell asleep as you know,” you laughed.

“Mmhmm…” he grunted affirmatively as he began to remove the grocery items from the bag one by one.

You saw tomatoes, fresh basil, flour, mushrooms, cheese…

“What are you making?” You picked up the container of buffalo mozzarella and then looked at Harry.

“Margherita pizza. One of my favorite little recipes my mom used to make.”

You placed the container down, pulled his arm to drag him toward you, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He immediately paused what he was doing and wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss and then giving you a taste of his tongue.

But then he pulled away with his signature teasing smirk and went back to his task.

“You brought your bag. Gonna stay the night with me?”

He nodded as he folded the paper bag up neatly and then looked at you, “If that’s okay. Have to leave early, though.”

If that’s okay.

You laughed to yourself and nodded, “Of course, it’s okay, Harry. God, what I wouldn’t give to have you with me every–“ You stopped what you saying when you realized how suddenly serious that thought was. You did want him every night. You wanted him to yourself but you hadn’t discussed that with him before.

Harry placed the neatly folded paper bag down on your little counter and then pulled you back toward him with his hands on your hips, “Yeah? Every…? What? Every night? Want me every night, baby?” That same sneaky, devious smirk on his face had you melting and warm.

“I just meant, you’re always welcome,” you slid your hands up his chest and bit your lip. You were a little embarrassed that you admitted that but it was obviously too late now.

“I’m always welcome or you want me every night? Which is it?” He gripped you harder so you couldn’t escape his questions, his gaze.

You puffed a breath out through your lips with a laugh, “Both.”

He loosened his grip and brought a hand to your face, his eyes fixed to yours, “Both. I’d much prefer to be here with you every night too. Would if I could.” The thumb that trailed over your cheekbone and to your temple was soft and loving. You knew he meant what he said.

Harry’s pizza was superb. Your oven wasn’t quite right, he kept saying as he baked it but to you, it was the best thing that had ever come out of that cheap appliance.

“Usually like to make this in a brick oven. The one I’ve got in my backyard, but this will do in a pinch I suppose.”

Your mouth was full as you nodded, “So good.”

Harry laughed at your stuffed cheeks and the way you were gobbling down what he’d made.

“Aren’t you going to eat more?” You asked him finally when you’d swallowed your bite. He’d only had one slice.

“Already had dinner. But I wanted to feed you. Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

For some reason with a tummy full of Harry’s pizza and the kind gesture of his cooking to help take care of you had you reeling and needing more than just food.

Of course, it would have been impolite to just abandon cleanup but you were suddenly aware of how his sleeves were pushed up his forearms and how his dimples were extra deep accompanying his attractive smile. And his hair looked too tidy, you needed to get your hands in it. Needed to get him out of his clothes. Get those long fingers around your neck and touching your body immediately.

You set your plate down on the small kitchen table you were both sitting at and slid your hand up his thigh, “Oh is that why you came over here? The only reason?” You grinned and he leaned back into his chair and looked at you, keeping his own grin in check.

“Need to make sure my girl is healthy. Has everything she needs.”

“Yeah? And sometimes I need more than just food too, Mr. Styles.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and spread his legs slightly as you continued moving your hand upward, “Oh I know, sweet girl. You need a lot of things, don’t you?”

You nodded, “What about you? Do you need things too? From me? Anything I can help you with?”

Now his grin was breaking out over his face but it was cheeky, playful, “Of course I do.”

But he wasn’t giving in to your little game. He liked having you be the one to ask for it. You didn’t know why but he loved hearing you beg him. You always resisted begging. At first anyway. Sometimes he’d give in without you needing to.

“And what do you need from me?” You stopped short of putting your fingers over where you knew he was tucked under his pants. The obvious natural bulge he sported giving away where he normally liked to position himself.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, love. But I’m here because you needed to eat first and foremost. And you needed some groceries.”

You laughed and skipped over his lovely cock and put your hand up to his chest, scooting your chair in a little closer, “I’ll give you anything you want, sir. All you have to do is ask.”

Harry smiled and licked his lips slowly, “I’m as content as I can be here with you right now. Could sit here all night listening to you talk. S’that what you want? Want to touch my chest,” he flitted his eyes down to where your hand was before looking back into your eyes, “and my thighs, and chat all night about my pizza making skills and your lack of healthy food?”

You folded your lips into your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. He was playing a game of chicken with you. You really wanted to win this time.

“Well, that does sound really nice. You’ve filled me up so good with your yummy pizza. Guess I don’t need anything more than stimulating conversation with you if that’s all you’re interested in.”

Harry swallowed and breathed a laugh out of his nose, “Fine. Pizza and conversation it is.”

You wanted to huff in frustration. He still had his arms crossed over his chest, just under where your fingers were toying with the buttons on his shirt. He wasn’t giving in. But you had a thought.

“I’ll be right back.”

You hopped up from the chair and pranced to your bedroom. If he wanted to tease so would you. Stripping off your sweats you dug out your thin white Hey Lover t-shirt and tied it up just under the center of your breasts, and black cheeky boy short panties. You’d pretend you were only getting comfy since it was already late in the evening. He’d know what you were up to but you could play it off like you just wanted to get into your comfy house clothes.

When you got back to the kitchen Harry was already cleaning up.

“Hey, let’s do that later. Wanna sit and talk a bit.”

Harry tsked you, his back still turned as he wrapped up the rest of the pizza in foil, “I worked hard on this. Don’t want it to go bad. You can go sit–“ when he finally turned his full gaze back to you he stopped mid-sentence. You saw his jaw clench and his nostrils flair.

Not fair. That was not fair of you.

You knew your top especially was going to drive him mad. It was thin and your nipples were poking through the material and he could certainly see the shadow of the deeper color of your areolas popping through.

And he did. You noted where his eyes roamed, pausing over your tits for a good few seconds before licking his lips and turning back around to finish his job.

“Go sit.” He said without a single note of sweetness or desire.

You smiled to yourself as you walked into the living room and sat on your couch. Putting on a little music you selected a good little playlist that you knew he’d like.

Trying to act as unbothered as you possibly could you found a comfortable position on the couch and leaned into your cushions as you waited for Mr. Styles to join you.

It wasn’t long before he was casually strolling into the living room and sitting on the couch, leaving a few feet between you two. He draped an ankle over his knee and sat back, looking totally cool and unbothered.

You stretched and gathered your hair into your hands to expose your neck as you spoke, “So, how was your day today, Mr. Styles? You already know all about mine.”

Harry nodded slowly as he looked at you, keeping his eyes on your face, “Normal. Woke up and worked out, read an article, and played some golf with a colleague. That’s it really. Now here I am feeding you and entertaining you with conversation,” he grinned and you saw his eyes quickly take in your neck.

You smiled and sighed, “Sounds nice. I’ve played golf a few times. I’m terrible at it, though. Once a guy who took me tried to straighten out my stance but it did no good. No matter how many times he helped me adjust my grip or pushed my legs to spread them out properly it just didn’t work,” you chuckled. It was true. You’d gone with a guy a couple of years back on a date. He was flirting with you when he tried showing you the proper way to stand and hold the club but it turned into making out in the golf cart and a quick fuck in his car before he dropped you at home.

“S’that so? He probably wasn’t a good player either if he couldn’t give you any tips to help you improve your game.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I think he was more interested in getting my clothes off than anything,” you kept your eyes on his to asses but there was nothing there that indicated jealousy.

You had to amp it up. Do something to make him lose it. Wanted to watch him thicken up in his pants.

Dropping your hair you tucked your legs under yourself and turned to face Harry. You knew he was trying his hardest not to let his eyes drop below your neck. He knew he’d be fucked if he took in the way the soft cotton stretched over your breasts.

“Anyway. Are you any good?” You allowed your own eyes to take him in fully. His composure was sure to falter at some point.

“Yeah. I’m all right. I can hold my own.”

His short answer was not exactly what you were hoping for but you didn’t let it deter you. For some reason, his standoffish behavior was getting you even more worked up.

“Bet you can hold your own. You’re just so naturally good at everything you do,” you moved your finger over your tummy, keeping your eyes on his, “I know first-hand.”

Harry raised his brows and the movement of your hand over your torso and then down toward the top of your panties had him dropping his sight to where you were softly ghosting your fingers along the elastic band. You tugged at the knot on your shirt before moving your hand back up toward your chest, your thumb pressed between your thin cotton t-shirt-covered tits.

He watched your fingers and then looked back up at you, “Do you? And what do you know of my skills?” He smiled softly. Still appearing totally unbothered.

You sighed and tilted your head, keeping your eyes on his before stretching your arms over your head and allowing your shirt to lift the tiniest bit, revealing the bottom of your breasts. You only put your arms down once you were satisfied that Mr. Styles had gotten a good look, “Well, for example, you just made me a pizza that was to die for. Also, you recently got promoted at work and now you’re some big shot,” you unfolded a leg from underneath your bum and stretched it out, pressing your bare foot onto Harry’s thigh, “And I’ve seen you work out,” you nudged his muscled thigh, “You put men half your age to shame. You’re so athletic…” you began to pull your foot away but Harry gripped your ankle and pulled your leg to drape over his thigh making you smile in triumph.  Though you’d not yet won this round, he was clearly giving in to you bit by bit.

“Hmmm…” Harry nodded and hummed quietly. He kept his hand on your shin and his eyes a safe distance from anything below your chin, “I know I’m good at a lot of things. Can make you dribble all over your chin by just pulling my pants down,” he licked his lips, “Feel like that’s a great skill of mine. What else…” his hand began to brush over your leg softly and you scoffed at him but of course, he was right. You both knew it. He made you drool and whiney and hot. He didn’t even have to do anything.

“That was one time. And you had your fingers in my mouth. It wasn’t because of your cock,” you lied. Well, his fingers in your mouth did have you drool down your chin and when he pulled his pants down, he teasingly pointed out how your chin was shiny and you’d dripped saliva down your neck and to your chest.

“No? Hmmm… but you were so desperate to get it in your mouth that you tried grabbing me and when I told you to be patient you whined and drooled all over the floor. You can pretend all you want, little girl. I see what you’re trying to do.”

You watched as his hand traveled up your leg and past your knee to your thigh, “Wearing this little getup… trying to seduce me. So desperate for me. But you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than this, Y/n. You can lie to yourself and pretend you're not bothered and change the subject and show me your pretty tits all you want. S’not gonna change the fact that you’re gonna wind up a messy little puddle begging me for anything I’ll give you. Isn’t that right?”

Your mouth dropped open in faux shock. He was right. But you weren’t ready to give up yet.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Styles. I know you like having your ego stroked. So go ahead and keep telling yourself that you’ve got the upper hand. We both know you’re already folding. I can sit here all night and chat with you like this if you want. Doesn’t bother me one bit.” You folded your arms across your chest with a grin.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head. You were fun. He loved these moments with you. Loved giving you a hard time. Loved when you gave him a hard time. He softly pinched the inside of your thigh and you laughed, attempting to pull your leg away but he held you in place, large palms keeping your leg over him, fingers digging into your skin.

“Darling, you forget who you’re dealing with. I’m not the one resorting to skimpy clothes and trying to hide how turned-on I am. I see you trying to keep your legs pressed together. Hiding something,” he jutted his chin toward you and looked over the spot between your legs where he knew your panties covered up a tiny secret.

You wore black panties on purpose. Any wetness would be easier to hide, but keeping your legs pressed together could ensure he didn’t see the wet patch that had begun to spread. However, the way he was holding your leg over his lap made it quite difficult for you to not open your thighs a little.

“You just love to imagine that you’ve got me all bothered. But you’re wrong. I’m totally fine.”

Harry smiled and pulled at your leg further, causing a small yelp to slip out from your mouth followed by a tiny bit of laughter at the way you lost balance when you were pulled toward him, your other leg being tugged at to drape over his thigh.

“Good. Then we can just sit here and talk about the weather and maybe politics if you’re into that. Or is there another topic you had in mind since you’re so keen on just sitting chatting all night?”

You steadied yourself, back against the cushion as you pressed your legs together again and looked up at him innocently, “Randy called me the other day. Said he missed me. Apologized for being rude when we were together. That was nice to hear. The apology,” you wiggled your hips to fix your seating so you could appear more casual, despite having your legs in Harry’s possession over his lap.

Harry’s large palms ran up the outer sides of your thighs slowly before dragging back down to just above your knees, keeping his eyes on yours, “Oh really? Thinking about getting back with him then?” He spoke trying to tamper the playful smile on his face.

You snorted a laugh and grinned teasingly, drawing your fingers across your breasts, “Nahh… I can do better. I mean… maybe if I’m desperate and just need to scratch an itch. You know? Being a single girl gets hard at times. My dildo is only gonna give me a small taste of what a man can. Even if he’s not great in bed.”

Biting the inside of his cheek he nodded with dark eyes, “Would be such a shame to waste a good fuck on Rudy like that when you’ve got me at the helm. Of course, you're too stubborn to admit it. All you have to do is ask.”

 You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap with a pout, “Randy. His name is Randy. But anyway… I don’t have to beg Randy to fuck me. He’s never pretended he was unbothered by me. Always quite straightforward really. If he wanted sex all he had to do was tell me. You on the other hand,” you poked your finger into his arm, “like making it hard for me, which is quite impolite. So I’m okay with not having sex if you just aren’t up for it.”

Harry pushed a laugh out through his nose at your tease, “Rudy sounds like a fucking bore. And he never gave you an orgasm. Either you have really bad taste or you’re just a tease. I have a feeling I know which it is, too. Little girl likes to play games. I can play games if you want. But you know I’m gonna win.”

You knew he was right. You wanted his cock but he wasn’t budging. All you had to do was admit it. Ask him politely. And you would when you couldn’t handle it any longer but you were having fun and the back and forth was like foreplay for you.

He kept one hand grasped around the outside of your thigh while his other smoothed inward, fingers pushing your thighs apart the tiniest bit and then gently dancing upward. If he moved his fingers too far up he’d feel how damp you were already.

“I’m not playing games,” you spoke matter-of-factly, watching as his hand traveled over your skin, “I can just tell maybe you’re tired Perhaps you’ve had a long day and it’s almost bedtime for you. I mean I get it,” you laughed in preparation for what you were about to say, “When you get to be your age things just slow down a little. It’s okay if you’re not up for it tonight, sir.”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and closed his eyes as he laughed at your attempt to provoke him.

When he looked back at you his expression was serious as he pried your legs apart, swiping the pad of his pointer finger right over the wet material of your panties and raised his brows as if he was shocked. Though you knew he was goading you, “You know goddamn well that my age has nothing to do with my libido. Difference between me and you is that I have incredible willpower and I know that you’re gonna be begging me to stuff your pussy before the night is over.”

You laughed and shook your head, “Nope.”

Harry pressed his thumb right over where your clit was already aching and grinned, “Yep.” Popping the p for emphasis. “See I’ve already got you soaking your panties. Goosebumps on your legs. Your nipples are hard. Your face is warm. I bet your heart is pounding too, just wishing you were getting the life fucked out of you right now. And you could be,” he spoke lowly as he slid a finger under the fabric of your panties and smoothed it over your skin, but not touching your crease or your clit like you hoped, “If you just admit it.”

You noticed that his cock had plumped under his pants. A good sign, you figured, “Nothing to admit. I might be turned on but I can hold out. In fact, I’d bet you’re not in much better shape with your cock swelling up like it is. You need this wet pussy to soothe that big dick, don’t you?”

Harry’s undisturbed body language was a concern because even though his prick was growing harder by the minute, you were starting to boil while he still seemed unphased.

“Oh, honey…” Harry smiled at you like you were a pitiful thing, “I’m doing just fine. In fact, probably just gonna fuck my own fist before we go to bed since you’re so stubborn. Maybe I’ll let you watch me too. I’ll be just fine. Just love being here with you. We don’t always have to have sex.”

You clenched your jaw and huffed imagining that scene. Having Harry yank his cock with his big hand until he was coming on your floor. You’d want to lick it up off the floor too. Scoop it all up and swallow it down. He had you obsessed with his come. Well, with him in general.

You tried to think of something to say but your brain was stuck on the image of him slowly stroking his fat cock and saying filthy shit to you while you tried to hold it together and not give in to your own urges.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Harry lifted a hand to your face and brushed his thumb along your jaw and up over your cheek, “Need to tell me something?”

Your lips parted and you breathed out a small whimper and squished your eyes closed. Your determination was crumbling with his soft touches.

“S’okay. If you don’t mind,” Harry pushed your legs off of him and quickly began to unbutton his pants, “S’getting tight in there…” he pulled his pants down just a touch so that the bulge under his briefs was now poking out and he had a bit more space to breathe.

He pressed over his erection and straightened himself out and suddenly the tip of his cock was peeking out over the band of Calvin Kleins. You closed your eyes again and tried to will yourself to not give in to him. But what was fair was fair. You were teasing him with your body and now he was returning the favor.

When you heard Harry chuckle you opened your eyes to look at him and your head was fuzzy. He was literally mouth-watering. He’d unbuttoned his shirt so you could see his tattoos and the large erection poking out from his briefs was like an actual cherry on top of it all. You licked your lips and swallowed down your saliva as you stared at his swollen head. It looked like something you could just pop into your mouth and suckle on if you weren’t so stubborn.

But Harry loved how stubborn you were. You really did make him work for it. You were exciting and sweet and he loved the way you teased him.

“If you want some you can have some, sweetheart. I know you’d like a taste. S’right there for you if you just ask politely.”

You groaned and looked away from him but your eyes were burning and all you could think about was straddling his lap and pushing his briefs down so you could fuck yourself on him. You were actually vibrating and pulsing you were so turned on.

And when you thought about it all… how this was all just a game anyway. How you both knew you’d end up with his come dribbling out of your cunt and satisfied and fucked out before you went to bed you laughed, “Fuck it…” you said as you crawled yourself over his lap and Harry’s hands found your hips, “I want you. Okay? You win.”

He had a pleased smile on his face when he felt you press your soaked panties over his briefs and plaster your lips over his in finality.

He would have laughed and teased you for giving in but he was thankful you did. Because he was aching for you.

You were desperate too. You pulled away from the kiss and put your hands down to his briefs and pushed at the material before sliding the crotch of your panties to the side and letting your wet hole kiss his tip softly as you looked into his eyes, “Can I please have it?”

Harry’s smirk fell from his face the moment you began to lower yourself, coating him in your slick arousal, “Yes. Take what you want. Fuck…”

The music was soft and you could barely hear the lyrics as you began to work yourself down and up along his length. You moaned as you felt him poke deep and keened, sucking in a sharp breath, “So thick…” you panted.

You were wetting Harry’s briefs and the tops of his pants but he didn’t care in that moment. He’d take care of the issue after you were done, “Yeah? Needed to stuff yourself with my cock didn’t you darling? Feels good?”

You nodded and held onto the back of the couch as Harry moved his hands from your hips up to the bottom hem of your top and pushed the material up so he could finally look at your pretty breasts. His favorite. He leaned in and suckled your tit into your mouth and you gasped softly.

You began to ride him a little faster, sticky slick noises coming from between your bodies as you writhed up and down his cock.

“Harry!” You shouted his name in a desperate plea. You didn’t know what you were pleading for but you just wanted more. His tongue and lips and teeth on your tits and his heavy, hard dick inside of you were really all a girl could ask for.

Harry moaned and licked over the spot he nipped next to your nipple and moved his lips over your soft flesh as he spoke, “Poor thing… so needy for me. Should have just given in the first time I told you to, baby.”

The couch under you squeaked gently as you rose and fell over him. The relief of having him inside of you had you tearing up.

Harry tilted his head back to look at your face. And just as he expected you were completely insatiable. Your expression was hungry and lusty with your lips parted, a pained look across your features.

Harry cooed at you and slid his hands up from your soft breasts to cup your face and make you kiss him. Your mouths moved together slowly as you shifted over him, slowing down a little now that your mouths were connected.

Harry pulled away, keeping his hands at your face, “Slow down a little bit. Here…” he dropped one hand to your hip and stilled you, pushing you down all the way over his shaft until you were firmly seated in his lap and his tip was stuffed so far inside of you it hurt making you whine and quiver.

“Like that. Just sit and feel me. No need to hurry. Gonna always take care of you. Okay?” His lips pressed over yours again and you moaned into his mouth.

You acted as if you were starved. You canted your hips slightly to glide your clit against his pelvic bone and he gasped and pulled away again, “I know you need it, baby. Just slow down. You were so desperate weren’t you?” He thumbed at your cheek and wiped your tears with a grin, “Always my good girl. Aren’t you?”

You bit your lips and whimpered as you nodded. You felt like a pathetic girl. It was like the moment his cock was inside of you all your good sense flew out the window and you were a melty, needy puppy in despair, deprived of attention and love. You needed more and more and more every time he entered you. It only got worse as the months crawled on and your affair got more serious.

“I wanna be your only good girl. Please…” You slid your shaky fingers into his hair and smoothed your lips over his with a tremulous breath.

Harry rocked upward, dipping into your sensitive insides and you gasped again, parting your lips from his.

“Look at me, Y/n…” Harry spoke as he moved a hand to the back of your neck.

You locked eyes with him and your sad little pout had him leaning in to give you a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth before he looked back into your eyes, “You’re my good girl. No one else. Just you, baby. Understood?”

You nodded and sniffled, “But I’m not,” You jutted your bottom lip out like a child and felt ridiculous. You didn’t know what had you so emotional suddenly. Maybe it was the build-up and all the teasing. Or the way you always gave in to him and he was so cool and secure in himself while you were shaky and desperate.

Harry moved a hand down your back and kept his other hand brushing softly over your cheekbone, “Yes you are. You’re mine. You’re my only.”

You didn’t want to say it. Hated to bring it up but you couldn’t help it or you thought you’d explode if you didn’t tell the truth, “But you’re married. I might be yours but you’re not mine.”

He hadn’t quite expected it. You knew the situation. He couldn’t just leave his wife of 20+ years. It didn’t work that way. But to hear you say it was… well it gave him pause.

“Okay. I am married. But I’m here with you right now, Y/n. Because I’d rather be here with you. Wish I could be here every night. And I would if I could.”

You nodded. You knew he’d prefer to fuck you rather than his wife. That part was understood. But he’d never actually choose you over her when it came down to it. “I know. I’m sorry for bringing it up. I just… I’m starting to…” You swallowed the words your heart wanted to reveal but you stopped, “Just want to see you more I think. Once a week or every other week isn’t good for me. Need you more. I think that’ll make me better. I’m sorry… I don’t know –“

Harry shushed you and stroked your back softly, “I want to see you more too, baby. Should we think of a way to make it twice or three times a week even? Will that make it better?”

You smiled and nodded, “Three times a week? Oh my god…” You kissed him and squealed at the idea of having him three times a week.

Harry laughed and nodded, “If it makes you happy. Didn’t know you needed more, honey. Didn’t want to make you sick of me.”

You laughed in return and shook your head, “I could never be sick of you, Harry. I’m…” You stopped yourself once again. The words on the tip of your tongue but that wouldn’t be fair. To you nor to him. “I’m happy you want that too.”

Harry’s fingers on your face felt soft and comforting, “Of course I want that. I want you happy. And that would make me happier too.”

You felt dizzy with love and excitement as you pasted your lips to his and began to rock your hips slowly again.

You knew you were selfish. Knew you were getting in too deep but you didn’t care. Maybe down the road one day it would hurt but for now, you would be happy with anything he gave you.

Suddenly Harry shifted and brought his arm to cradle you close as he laid you down flat on the couch, his thick cock still inside of you. But now he was hovering over you with a dark smile on his face, “I need to fuck you like you’re mine. Show you I mean it,” he said as he pulled your legs up, calves pressed over his shoulders, and began to roll his hips into you. The springs in the couch cushions danced under your back and creaked as he picked up the pace.

You coughed out a moan and squished your exposed tits together. You still had on your shirt, tugged up above your tits, and your underwear, and Harry still had his clothes on, while his shirt was unbuttoned and his pants were down past his bottom. You were both the picture of neediness, not even bothering to take the time to undress fully.

Harry held onto the back of your thighs as he plunged in and pulled back to his tip, before plowing his cock into the hilt again. Every time his hips met the back of your thighs the sticky sound of your arousal on his cock was unmistakable.

He swatted at your thigh when you began to slip from his hold, your leg wobbling free from his shoulder, “Stay put. Keep your legs up,” he grunted.

You gasped and nodded, “Yes, sir…”

Every dip of himself into you felt divine. His cock pushing into your insides and slipping into your guts repeatedly was noisy and delicious.

Harry moaned, unable to hold back how good it felt to be inside of you.

You looked up at him and saw how gone he was. His soft raspberry lips were parted and his eyes were dark as he gasped and panted. His thrusts were becoming harder and sloppier and he was breathing hard. You wanted his come.

“Need it, Harry. Give it to me…” you whispered as you brought a hand up to his jaw and he kept his eyes on you. He was shaking with desire you could feel it.

“Fuck, honey…” he groaned and clenched his jaw. He wanted to make you come first but his own emotions were getting him keyed up and he was already leaking a steady stream of pre-come into your pussy with each stroke.

He stopped his motions and sucked in a sharp breath as he lowered a hand to your clit, “Need you to come first, okay? Then I’m gonna fill your pussy like you need, baby.”

With his thumb on your clit you cooed in ecstasy. You had no idea what you were saying as you felt electricity begin to thrum through your body, winding its way around your ribs and down your spine, and into your tummy where sparks began to turn to fire as he began thrusting into you again.

“Want you to fuck your come deep into my womb. Breed my pussy, sir…” You moaned your words unable to stop it.

Harry grunted and he popped his eyes open to look down at you in shock. He knew you were on birth control and knew it was highly improbable but still, your words had him reeling and feeding his breeding kink, something that had been dormant for many years. You tended to awaken old feelings he once relished in.

And he wasn’t sure if he actually want to get you knocked up but just hearing that fed into something deep and instinctual that had been pushed down. Something primal. You had unleashed a tsunami of emotions and now this?

He began to hammer into you and your legs fell from his shoulders as he fucked himself down into you so hard you saw stars and you gurgled as you came around him, unable to voice your dirty thoughts as your pussy pulsed and squeezed around him.

“Fuck!” Harry barked loudly when he felt you come and he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that you’d tapped into, “Gonna knock you up. Fuck you til your all bred and full with my cock and my babies. That what you want? Stuffed full of me in every fucking way?”

Harry throbbed as he finally poured into you, pushing his cock into you as deep as he could manage, balls tucked up against your bum as he whimpered with each tight roll of his hips upward. Imagining his come seeping into you and having it stick. Getting you pregnant. Making you his forever.

He collapsed over you and slid his tongue into your mouth as you brought your arms around his back to keep him close.

Pure hedonistic, rapturous oblivion.

Your heart pounded as he kissed you and you felt him trembling in your arms just as you were in his.

You longed to speak the words you knew you felt but it wasn’t right. You’d want him to say it first. Wanted him to admit it. Wanted him to want you.

But Harry was feeling it all heavy and deeply just the same. His own longing to show you exactly what he felt and that even though he’d play off those words he spoke as he came inside of you, he meant it in a way. He’d love to see you pregnant with his babies. Have you as his own for good. Tell you what he felt deep down.

You smiled into the kiss and Harry pushed himself up to look down at you.

“Just what I needed, Harry. Always know how to make me feel so so good.” You pushed your fingers into his hair and gazed into his pretty eyes and watched as his grin widened.

“Mmm… Ditto. Need you more than just once a week, baby. I did mean that you know.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes to let that idea sink in a bit. Harry grunted as he moved and you suddenly felt a pinch at the back of your thigh and you laughed, opening your eyes.

“Did you hear me?”

You nodded, “Yes, sir. Three times a week is what you said. That sounds like as close to perfection as I could ask for.”

Harry nudged his nose to yours and let out a soft breath, “Just want more of you, baby.”

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[heartysworld]

Mother's Day || Oscar Piastri x Reader

A/N: This is a request I got last night and the moment I saw it I knew I just HAD to write it ASAP so here it is. I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I did! 🧡

W.C.: 2k

MASTERLIST

Oscar sat in his car, adjusting the camera mounted on the dashboard with a genuine smile.

"Good morning everyone, welcome back to the McLaren YouTube channel. It's Oscar here. So, I didn't really plan on filming this today, but according to the schedule, it's my turn to vlog and there's no way out of it. So because today is a really special day you'll be coming with me to run some errands. It's Y/N's first Mother's Day, and I want to make it memorable for her. So, I woke up super early and I'm on my way to get her some flowers and breakfast."

On the way to the places he had in mind to visit, Oscar talked about the other big part of his life. He discussed the last few races and the points he had scored with the invisible audience whom the video was intended for.

He parked the car and walked towards a quaint local flower shop, the bell above the door jingling as he entered. "Alright, so we're at Daisy's Flower Boutique. They have the best flowers in town, and I want to get something really special for Y/N."

Oscar browsed through the vibrant selection of flowers, his eyes lighting up as the woman who worked there showed him a beautiful bouquet of roses and another one of lilies. "These look perfect. I'm actually going to get both." He said. "One bouquet from me and one from our baby girl. I think my wife will love them." He added as he received an odd look from the worker. His reason for buying two bouquets actually made the woman smile, telling him how his wife and daughter are lucky to have such a husband and father.

Next, Oscar headed to a cozy bakery, ordering an assortment of pastries and a couple two lattes, all of your favorite stuff. The camera captured the delicious array of baked goods. "Y/N loves the croissants from this place, so I'm getting a bunch of her favorites. And of course, a latte to go. Funny story, this is where we had our first date six years ago. So we can say we've made it something like "our place". "

With the flowers and breakfast on the passenger seat, Oscar set off back home. "Alright, everything's set. Let's head back home and surprise my wife."

Quietly entering the house, Oscar made his way to the kitchen where Y/N was already awake, cradling their baby girl who let our a loud gurgle at the sight of her dad. "Good morning, loves," he said softly, setting the food and flowers on the counter.

Y/N looked up, a surprised smile spreading across her face. "Oscar! What's all this?"

"Happy first Mother's Day," Oscar beamed, handing her the bouquets. "This one is from me...and this one is from our little princess."

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears as she took the flowers, her smile radiant. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much," she said, leaning in to kiss Oscar and then placing a gentle kiss on their baby girl's head.

Oscar handed her a card with a delicate floral design. "There's more. Open this."

Y/N opened the card, reading the heartfelt note inside:

"To the most amazing woman and mother, Y/N, Happy first Mother's Day! Watching you with our daughter has been the greatest joy of my life. Your love, strength, and kindness inspire me every day. I’m so grateful to share this journey with you. Love always, Oscar and Tilly."

Tears streamed down Y/N's cheeks as she read the note. "Oscar, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Oscar wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead gently. "You deserve it all and more."

You couldn't believe how sweet Oscar had been. This was your first Mother’s Day, and he had gone above and beyond, waking up super early during a break week, to make it special. As you sat in the kitchen, holding you baby girl, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.

Later that week, you found out Oscar's video had blown up online. The comments were filled with people adoring him and your family. “Oscar, you’ve set the bar so high for all the partners out there!” one comment read. “Y/N is so lucky to have you, and you can see the love you all share. Happy Mother’s Day, Y/N!” another person wrote.

You decided to film a little response video for your personal instagram, thanking everyone for their kind words. Sitting in the same spot Oscar had been earlier, you turned on the camera and smiled. “Hi everyone, it’s Y/N. I just wanted to say thank you for all the lovely messages. Oscar truly made this Mother’s Day unforgettable, and I’m so grateful for him and our beautiful daughter. Seeing how much you all appreciate his effort makes it even more special. Thank you again, and happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful moms out there.”

Turning off the camera, you felt a wave of happiness. This day had been perfect, not just because of the flowers or the breakfast, but because of the love you shared as a family. Oscar's thoughtfulness had once again touched your heart, showing you how much he loves you and how lucky you are to have him.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! 🧡

MASTERLIST

[nohoney]

i just thought of social media outlets just over analyzing every celebrity interaction (as they always do) but they were speculating for a while about your relationship with number two pro-hero dynamight. the two of you sat at a table together at a gala a while back and the live broadcast happen to capture you leaning in close towards dynamight for him to whisper in your ear for only just a quick second.

naturally they start asking a million prodding questions over one seemingly innocuous interaction between the two of you.

you and dynamight were spotted together at most three times since that captured moment on television but once again, there was nothing particularly romantic or intimate captured by the cameras. dynamight hardly makes any personal posts on his socials and you’ve switched up to becoming a little more private with your social media this year as a resolution for yourself. so there’s radio silence on both ends about the romantic speculation between the two of you and it dies out as quickly as it had risen up. the media moves on to the next thing.

then a few months later, paparazzi capture you on a outing to get some pastries and people are quick to see that you have your hand on a small baby bump. it’s a decent photo captured and the one posted online is of you actually seeing the paparazzi and giving them a smile and wave. of course they analyze how far along you look like you are and the discrepancy of your last social media post where you definitely didn’t have a little pregnancy bump on you and compare it to the recent sighting. outlets have sources that confirm that you haven’t had any public romantic involvement with anyone throughout the year and everyone starts weighing in on who the father is.

it’s a bare string for the celebrity news outlets to hold onto but they vaguely recall when everyone wondered if you and dynamight were an item. one celebrity news Twitter posts the photo of you with the caption ‘could bakugou katsuki, #2 hero in japan, be the father??’

bakugou retweets the post from his account with only two words: ‘i am.’

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

My Girl 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother’s friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You carefully pull the pastry over the slices of apple a cinnamon. You twist the corners together to complete the effect and hold it in place. Your blossoms are your specialty. You'll sprinkle coarse sugar over the top before you put them in the oven but for now, they'll have to rest. Your mother still has food cooking for the main course. 

You start another one, roll it out the pastry, slice it just so, wrap, and twist…  

The front door clatters and you hear Isaac say hello to your mom on her way in, “where's dad?” He adds on. 

“He'll be home soon,” she chimes. She's indulging in some wine for all her hard work in the kitchen. 

You can't help but long for your bed and the book you left on your pillow. The real world is always so monotonous. You enjoy baking but you'd rather finish the chapter. Sigh, you suppose that comes with the human condition; you're obligated to acknowledge the non-fictional slog. 

“Hey,” the deep rumble cuts through the air like the distance approach of some lingering dragon in its lair. You pop your head up and look over as Sy sets down his usual courtesy; beer and wine. He looks at you then the pan you line with pastry and fruit. “Er, whatcha making?” 

You look back to your hands and finish the twist, “apple blossoms.” 

“Mm, I like apple,” he steps closer to the counter, stopping at the counter, wavering as if he's afraid to come any further.  

“Thanks, er, oh, me too,” you shrug awkwardly, “my grandma taught me.” 

“Ah,” he nods and looks to the side, scratching his beard as he puffs out, “how's… how's your book?” 

You rinse of your hands, drying them thoroughly, “it's alright. I read it before.” 

“Tolkien, right?” He wonders. 

You nod. 

“Ahem, yeah, I… I started… the Fellowship one… pretty good so far.” 

“Oh? You did?” You face him. 

“I pick it up on my break, get a few pages here and there,” he chews his lip and pats his front pocket, feeling along it before dipping his fingers into the fabric, his brow slanting, “I… I made this.” 

He slides out a long flat piece of metal. It's slender and delicate, corner rounded to an oval, with elven patterning along its face. You squint and lean in to have a better look. 

“Wow. What is it?” 

“It's for you,” he says abruptly, “I mean it's a bookmark. I made it for you.” 

“Me?” You wonder as your eyes round, “that’s…” you look him in the face, “why– you didn't have to do that, Sy.” 

“Eh, it isn't much,” he holds it out, “be good to keep your place and all. You never drink the wine or nothing so…” 

“That's… sweet,” you smile and accept the book mark, turning it over. Your name is wrought in beautiful calligraphy on the other side, “it's beautiful.” 

He's quiet as you admire his handiwork. You don't know what else to say. You didn't expect it. You wouldn't expect him to think that much about you. 

“Anything I can help with?” He breaks the stuffy silence, made more stolid by the radiating heat of the stove. 

“Um, no, I'm pretty much done,” you move the pan of blossoms to the other counter, “but thank you.” 

“Ain't no trouble,” he assures and taps the countertop with his thick fingers, “s'pose I'll see ya at dinner.” 

“Sure,” you say over your shoulder. 

You wait until he's gone and back up, looking down at the bookmark. You can't believe how nice it is. How delicate. How can someone like him make something so elegant? Once more you’re reminded of the brutish dwarves and their renowned creations. 

You'll have to do something for him. To make it even. You don't know much about Sy but you know about Tolkien. You're sure you'll come up with something. 

📖

You sit down for dinner. It seems a lot for just a Wednesday. You won't complain even if you would rather be reading. Your mom has put together a merry feast which could feed a king himself. 

The chair beside you scrapes out and you expect Isaac to elbow you as he always does. Instead, he takes the chair across from you. Sy claims the seat to your left. He’s so big, he can’t help but brush your arm with his thick one. You send him a meek smile and he nods. 

As you serve yourselves from the glistening roast and potatoes and medley of salads and veggies, your mother flutters around offering to fill glasses. When she finally sits, she can barely stay still. 

“So, I know this is a lot,” she begins, “but I have news I wanted to share and this is my little surprise celebration.” 

You quirk your head and Isaac barely reacts as he cuts into the pork. 

“I've been given a really big opportunity at work and I'll be heading up a new project,” she's shaking with excitement, “in London.” 

“London?” You echo and look around. 

Isaac chews around his confusion as he finally reacts but your dad only smiles at your mother. You try to muster some positivity but you’re too surprised. This is a bigger twist than any book you’ve read. 

“I'll be gone for three weeks,” she says, “so yeah, I'll miss you all. I know it's all very sudden but I can't pass this up and I know you'll be okay.” 

“What?” Isaac chokes down his food. 

“Congratulations,” Sy says, “that's big news.” 

“When do you leave?” You ask. 

“Friday.” 

“Friday?” You gasp. 

“I know it's short notice but there were details to be confirmed and–” 

“Mom,” you squeak, “that's… that's great. I'm happy. Just… surprised.” 

“What are we gonna do?” Isaac whines. He dramatically sits back and rubs his cheeks. 

Sy clears his throat, “you're grown. You'll figure it out. You should be happy for your mother.” 

“He's right,” your dad growls, “your mom worked hard for this.” 

“We'll be okay,” you wisp, assuring yourself as much as everyone else. 

“Won't be long at all,” your mother beams even as she gets teary-eyed, “I'll call you every day.” 

📖

After dinner, you offer to clear the table. You want to think. You’’ll miss your mom when she’s gone. You assume you’ll be doing much of the cooking in her absence. You don’t mind, she always does so much. But that isn’t the only thing that will go away with your mom.  

It’s just disappointing that you were away for college and finally get back home and she’s leaving. You wasted the time you did have. You shouldn’t have spent all those hours with the Fellowship. You should have spent it in reality. Funny how fast your perspective can shift. 

You finish up tidying as you hear the voices from the front porch. The smell of the apple blossoms lace the air with cinnamon. You take them out of the oven, they’re perfectly golden and some of the apply good noose oozes out the little slits in the side. You plate each with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and take them out two at a time. 

You elbow out onto the porch, the snap of the screen door announcing your arrival. Your mom and dad sit on the porch swing as Sy stands across from them leaning on the railing. You force out a ‘hi’ and hand your parents their plates before you step back. 

“I’ll grab yours,” you say to Sy, “does anyone want tea or coffee?” 

“Oh, peanut, you’re so sweet, I wouldn’t mind some tea... even though I’m sure I’ll have more than enough in England,” she chuckles. 

“Decaf, please,” your dad grins. 

“Alright, will do,” you say. 

“I’ll help,” Sy stands straight, “you’ll have your hands full.” 

“Aw, Sy, you are too much,” your mother preens. 

“Where’s Isaac?” You wonder allow as your hand hovers on the screen door. 

“Moping, somewhere,” your father scoffs. “let him come out for his own dessert, if he wants it.” 

“Oh, right,” you accept and as you turn, a hand grabs the door above yours and pulls it open. Sy is close as he reaches above you to let you inside. You flit ahead of him and he follows with his sturdy steps, pausing to leave his boots on the mat. 

“You don’t have to help,” you say as you grab his plate and offer it to him as he enters the kitchen, “I just gotta put the water on.” 

“Wanna,” he says, “leave mine there. Why don’t you have some?” He insists. 

“I will,” you assure him and reluctantly put the plate back on the counter. 

You turn and flip on the electric kettle. You take out your mother’s favourite mug and a tea ball. As you do that, Sy nears the counter next to you. 

“Where’s the decaf?” He asks. 

“I said you don’t have to,” you giggle out your nerves, “really, I got it.” 

“I said, I want to,” he shrugs, “I don’t mind.” 

You don’t want to argue. How can you? He’s being helpful and you won’t have much of that. Isaac and your dad work so naturally, you’ll be taking on more of the housework. You’re not unhappy at that prospect, you just don’t want things to change so fast. 

“You’re gonna miss your mom?” Again, his questions sound like statements. 

You wince and nod, “yeah,” you close the tea ball and hook the chain on the rim of the cup. He works diligently to loud the coffee maker, measuring out the grounds deliberately. You can’t really explain everything you feel. 

“Well,” he snaps the lid down, “if ya need anything, let me know.” He backs up and goes to the other end of the counter. He slowly turns the plate of pastry and ice cream, “make sure you get some too. Can’t be doin’ all that hard work for nothing.” 

He slides the plate towards him and lifts it. He turns his broad shoulders to you and stalks out. You hear the spook clink into the porcelain before he reaches the front door and he lets out a rumbling purr. Well, at least the dessert turned out. 

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (Interlude)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!reader (see series)

Written for @whiskeytangofoxtrot555's birthday from her premise ask 💜 but also serves as a wee prezzie for @blogbog710, @targaryenvampireslayer, @navybrat817, and (belatedly) the lovely @ellethespaceunicorn! (What the heck is in the water?? So many bdays I didn't know about!)

Summary: Your birthday ritual is interrupted.

*You do not need to know anything about this series to enjoy this blurb.* Warnings for suggestive eating, a sweet kiss (literally), cuddling in minimal clothing, but otherwise, just fluff and feels! WC 1.2k

Of course, you don’t always do this. Sometimes you’re out with friends. Sometimes your parents make a huge deal out of late dinner. Sometimes you draw the short straw and have to work the front desk, but not tonight.

The searing red of the digital clock counts down for you (or up depending on how you look at it). Soon—very soon—it will be midnight, and you can wish yourself the first ‘happy birthday.’ To some that might seem sad, but it’s become a ritual of you putting yourself first. Birthday parties may be for children but celebrating YOU should never go out of style.

The red flickers. New numbers. New you. Older, wiser, and alive. It’s a beautiful thing.

Your eyelids fall heavy after your long soak in the tub, the lingering scent of the bubblebath still warm on your skin. You’re content and tired. You hum as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why you aren’t startled is a hope you don't admit aloud, a greedy, gluttonous vice that piles on to a reality you cannot share with a single living soul except…

Steve Rogers, the fugitive Captain America, crouches outside your window, nimble and stealthy, having climbed to the slant of roof without you noticing.

But you wished for him. You always wish for him to come back.

Your smile grows as you slide off the edge of your bed and press your hand to the pane of glass. He mirrors the gesture, unhurried, soft. It’s just a moment more before you lift the latches and invite him in.

Whispers of ‘hey’ are exchanged while Steve crawls through, but he only answers your surprised “what are you doing here?” with a kiss to your forehead and a long hug.

You taught him how to hug like that. He's taken it to another level as anxiety melts out of you faster than it did in the bath.

His warm skin smells of pine and leather, likely from wearing his decrepit Cap suit to sneak around the woods behind your house. It fits his mountain-man vibe these days--full beard, hair curling beneath his ears, desperate loneliness he uses you to brighten.

You're not sure Steve comprehends how much light he brings to your life in return, but you soak up what you can.

He stands tall, still grinning, and drops a small, structured backpack to the floor. From it he pulls a pastry box, a little pack of candles, and a lighter. He goes through the entire process of preparing your cupcake in his palm before stretching out his hand.

The tiny, flickering flame shimmers in his twilight eyes.

“Happy birthday, Tops.”

As you gently take your treat, it occurs to you that you’ve never told Steve Rogers your birthday. 

“How did you know?”

Technically, the question is casual, but you’re still curious.

His eyebrows shoot up, dramatic and comical shadows cast across his handsome features.

“Well, see, in my…position—” Wax drips onto the towering icing while Steve rubs his neck, guilty and avoiding your eyes. “I have to take certain…precautions, and I was just—” 

“Did you look me up? Online? Do some research, huh? Check up on me?” 

You’re teasing him, but it is fun to see the huge man kneeling at your bedside squirm. His blush is crimson in the candlelight.

You poke his burly shoulder. “You were checkin’ me out…”

“It’s not like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, make a wish, birthday girl.” Steve pushes the cupcake higher in your hold, encouraging you with a wry smile.

Your breath is swift and precise, your desire so clear at the forefront of your mind that picking a wish—another wish, since he’s already here—takes no time at all.

Steve maneuvers himself to sit up on your bed, pulling you to into his lap.

“Good surprise?”

“The best,” you whisper.

You remove the candle and hold the bottom to Steve’s lips. “Lick.”

He sucks off the icing slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You playfully run your finger through the frosting and taste it, too. If you ever told him your favorite cake flavor, you can’t remember that either, but he clearly knows.

“Tasty?” he asks, a swipe of his tongue wetting his lips.

“Uh-huh.”

You take another dollop and offer your finger to him.

He chuckles. “It’s all yours. I’m not fond of super-sweet things.”

“Oh?” You let the whipped, buttery sugar dissolve in your mouth, thinking. “You’re fond of me, so…are you saying I’m not sweet?”

Your concern is overly dramatic, but Steve stares, biting his bottom lip. “No.”

“Then what do I add to the flavor?” You pull down a corner of crimped paper to try the cake itself. He’s still pondering when you clean lingering stickiness off your thumb.

“Clarity,” Steve finally says. “You offer clarity in a very blurry life.”

His hand on your back shifts to cradle your head, bringing you closer until you’re captured in an intense but chaste kiss. He cups your cheek in his other palm and licks across your sweet lips until you open for him. Steve devours you like you are the real treat, uncaring if his offering splats on the floor. It’s not on fire anymore, so who cares?

Something else occurs to you, jolting you to break away.

“How long can you stay?”

Steve pets down his beard, restarting his brain. “Till morning, I guess, but then I should go. I don’t want to ruin any of your other plans.”

Unbidden, you inhale swiftly and are overtaken by a yawn.

He’s wildly amused by that. “Tired, Tops?”

“No,” you lie, feeling another one coming on. “If I eat the rest of this, I’ll have energy.”

“Or—“ Steve plucks the confection away before you can slam it in two bites flat “—you can finish this for breakfast and get some sleep.”

You whine in protest because every minute you sleep is a minute with him wasted. He senses exactly that.

“I promise to stay right here all night. Come on. Get comfy.”

He repackages your cupcake to keep it fresh while you crawl into bed. You’ve never seen Steve have to remove his suit, and to watch, it looks tedious and involved.

“Took a second to master, I tell ya,” he mutters once the top is off.

Another minute and he’s shuffling under the covers beside you, aligning his body to snuggle yours, keeping you facing him.

Again his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin gently. He’s purposefully lulling you, placing the most delicate kisses over your forehead, his beard tickling your nose and making it scrunch up.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

You tilt upwards to steal the apology right from his lips. Usually, your time together is dictated by his needs, even if he doesn’t ask for the attention. It’s uplifting to have no worry of caring for him explicitly. This is just you with him, zero pressure, tons of love, nothing between.

“Hey, Steve?”

You wait for the deep rumble of a hum from his chest

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever said that.”

He smiles against your mouth, breaking away with a swift double peck.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls you flush to his chest, sighing happily when you toss your leg over his hip. “Happy birthday,” Steve whispers into your hair. “Thank you for letting me in.”

You fall asleep with him everywhere, in your arms, in your lungs, and in your heart. Your wish is that he never leaves, and for tonight, he’s doing the best he can to make your every wish come true.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries 

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner @mrschandlerbing @as-white-as-snow-love

[claraswritings]

Can I Be The One?

Summary: Luca is your childhood friend who has fallen in love with you. Carmy meets you through him and falls for you too Vignettes throughout the years knowing them.

Pairing: Chef Luca x female!Reader / Carmen Berzatto x female!Reader- I have never done this before. There’s TWO ENDINGS so you can pick whichever hot chef boyfriend you want.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, negative inner monologue, allusions to a panic attack, language, slow burn (sort of…it’s a fic which spans years), Google translate used, short smut in both endings, friends to lovers.

Notes:

1. In 2.04 in Luca’s kitchen there’s a handwritten sign that says “Jeg elsker dig” which is I love you according to Google translate 😭. So I wrote that into the Luca ending because who wrote that to him. WHO?who?WHO?WHO?… It was you if you want it to be.

2. I am so up for expanding both of these CHOOSE timelines. If anyone has any ideas for blurbs or just wants to chat pop up.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

PARIS

After some years of Luca working in London restaurants and climbing the ladder, he’d built his skills up at a rapid pace impressing just about everyone, including himself with how good he was. You’d been there for him like you promised through it all, his first successful promotion where he was tasked with coming up with a new dessert. You’d brainstorm with him and hold plates steady whilst he practiced assembly. You were there his countless attempts at spun sugar that you wound up having to pick out of his hair. The day he’d perfected his technique on that had been a relief, both for Luca and you but a sad day for the fine tooth comb industry. Seeing him flourish and be successful made you so happy. People were finally seeing Luca as you saw him. Talented, patient, dedicated and hardworking. Finally, he had something he loved that he could put all of his pent up energy into.

Every time he was offered the chance to a new place, he’d asked you to come with him and every time it had been an easy decision.

Given that you’d studied languages and spoke several, you’d agree with a joke that you’d be his unofficial translator in exchange for being his taste tester. It was easy for you to get freelance work wherever you went so it became you and Luca, travelling the world together.

Only a few weeks ago he’d asked you to come to Paris with him so he could learn new pastry techniques over there and stage at a restaurant, you’d once again agreed knowing you’d be able to pick up some translation work online.

“He speaks French and English by the way.” You said as you made your way back to the Paris Air BnB you’d been staying in over the past month. “He was fucking with the staff.” You continued, referring to the government official who allegedly spoke no English or French.

“I don’t think government officials ‘mess with’ people.” Luca looked down at you and pulled a face, “He was pretty old”

On this particular night he’d called you saying there was a restaurant emergency, a government official had requested off-menu, however when said official arrived, he stared blankly at any attempts to communicate in French or English.

“Don’t they?” You said, “I hate to break it to you but I think that is pretty much the byline of their job description.”

“I think…I think he was just being a dickhead.”

“Also in their job description, darling.” you whistled lowly, laughing as you looked up at him.

The way you called him that. It felt sweet, personable and rolled off the tongue and he suddenly felt it heavy in the Paris summer. Did it feel as loaded to him as it did to you? Probably not. You were so friendly and personable to everyone. Luca shook his head and tried not to make it obvious.

Of course he’d thought about you like that. It had started in fleeting moments.

The first day of his first kitchen job, or several years ago when he went to your university graduation and you’d held his arm as you walked across the grass to have photos taken, or last year you’d stopped in to see him, KFC bucket in hand after your relationship ended (Luca hated the guy anyway), or last month you’d tried 20 different variations of the same caramelized banana dessert he’d made even if you never were overly keen on banana because he’d really, really wanted to impress this celebrity chef that was coming into where he was working as sous chef.

It had become more frequent over the years with a hundred other times in between until he couldn’t remember when it had become harder and harder to put it down to a fleeting thought and closer to ‘I think I might be in love with my best friend’

“You’re messing with me aren’t you?” Luca asked, cocking his head to the side.

“He seemed to understand when I dropped it towards the end of the meal and thanked him sounding like this.” You gestured at yourself “So I’m going to go with…no, he understood…”

“Fucking hell” Luca let out low exhale and then laughed. “Hey…thanks again for helping, the CDC has offered you a free meal.”

“Why do you think I came down.” You joked. “Well that and I like hearing about what you’re making” you added on sincerely.

“You like me being a nerd about desserts?” Luca cocked his head, a slightly teasing tone in his voice

“Yeah but I like it. It’s actually really interesting you talking about your technique” You replied back “it’s like vocal food porn or something”

“Nah,” He laughed loudly at your description and elbowed you jokingly in the sides. “You just have a sweet tooth. I can promise you most people are not that interested.”

“Pfft their loss.…” You looped your arm through his and continued “You know I’m so proud of you, Luca, how much energy and love you put into this. It’s so cool. You’ve improved so much since your first dish and you just keep getting better.”

You were there in the restaurant for the first time a dish he’d fully made himself was served in the London restaurant he’d started at. Thai green curried pineapple. It had gone out first to the table next to you and you’d watched the woman keenly, waiting for her reaction. She’d loved it , of course she had, it was made by Luca. It was an open kitchen so you’d shot him a subtle thumbs up when you caught him staring through, fingers drumming over his mouth, nervous, hoping to alleviate his nerves. You’d proceeded to rave about the dish and her reaction, in detail, to him, all the way home, so excitedly, that you were sure half of the tube heard you. Your pride in him calmed his nerves, put him at ease, not just because you were his supportive best friend, but because it would be impossible to fake your enthusiasm.

Luca turned his head, not wanting to meet your eye for fear he’d run his mouth off ‘Couldn’t do it without you, thank you for always being there for me through it all, by the way I think I might have fallen in love with you’

“Thanks… not just for that, I mean for everything…” he stopped and mentally chastised himself for acting so awkward “How are you finding it?” He asked instead “I ask a lot of you, I know”

“Luca. I get to travel the world with my best friend, working from beautiful locations, whilst he lives his dream. It’s incredible.”

You were looking up at him, smiling, clearly ecstatically happy . And why wouldn’t you be. In a beautiful city with your best friend.

He knew he was your best friend but hearing you call him that felt weird. ‘You ARE her best friend, you’re not her boyfriend. Did you forget? Can master passionfruit macarons in a day but can’t understand that?

“Oh…by the way…I got you something.”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts as you paused on the middle of the path and opened your bag with your free hand and passed him a napkin and written on it was a phrase in French.

“Still keeping up with that tradition?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah I might be.” You teased back. “Don’t pretend I don’t know you love them!”

Luca of course loved the little tradition you’d started and had to fight back the grin that was threatening to break out on his face but he couldn’t.

You’d leave him a message written in the language of wherever he was working at the time. ‘Good luck’ on a napkin for his first role in London, There was one from a trip of Venice (‘You’re the best <3’- sei il migliore), and another from Seville (‘You’ve got this <3’ - tienes esto) and one from Rotterdam (‘I believe in you <3’ - ik geloof in jou). They’d made their way into books, notes from each place he’d visited, pressed between pages as memories.

The newest one in French was ‘I am so proud of you’ - je suis si fier de toi <3

He would keep it with him tucked into a pocket until you left Paris for Chicago and he’d move it into a notebook alongside a step by step for Canelés, a photo of the first time he’d made a Paris-Brest and tickets from your first visit to the Louvre and one of you he’d taken, candid, looking up at the sparkling Eiffel Tower.

———————————————————————————

BOTH

CHICAGO

All you had heard about since Luca had started working at Ever, a 3 star Chicago restaurant, was this other chef.

Every day. All day.

He’d come home to you sounding off. ‘Carmen did this better than me, Carmen is quicker than me, Carmen pitted two bags of peas when everyone else had only pitted half of one,’

You knew Luca wasn’t used to being second best and you knew it was getting to him. He’d been the best everywhere he’d been, except now.

Luca would stay up later and later in an attempt to get better, sometimes only sleeping for an hour. It was as if he felt like all his hard work would be for nothing and he’d be back as the guy who barely passed his exams and got in trouble all the time. You’d wake up, go to the kitchen for breakfast and find Luca had been up for three hours practicing folding dough or picking seeds out of strawberries or whatever the head chef had them doing the day before.

You were growing concerned, you knew why it was bothering him and had voiced to him several times to varying results that there was nothing wrong with being second best sous chef at a Michelin star restaurant. This other guys ability didn’t make him less.

After listening to Luca explain that Carmen managed to get the layering of butter and dough just perfect for croissants and had made two dozen whilst everyone else was still on their first and how he could brown a baked alaska in 15 seconds without the ice cream melting, you’d suggested that maybe he should become friends with him.

“Why don’t you ask him how he does it?” You asked him “Maybe he’d be happy to share?”

“What?”

Luca looked in thought for a moment, as if he was only just clicking this was an option, considering it before you continued.

“I’m worried about how hard you’re pushing yourself, bit of competition is fine but you’ll wear yourself out at this rate…Plus maybe there’s something you can show him that he might need to know”

He knew you were right. You usually were. Typical of you to be able to rationalise his thoughts within minutes. Of course you’d suggest he becomes friends with Carmen, why wouldn’t you... ‘You know me too well, you’re good at knowing what I need to hear.’

***

You hadn’t expected Luca to literally show up with Carmen the next day.

And the next, and the next and the next.

If you were honest, you didn’t know what you were expecting from this guy Luca had ranted about for weeks but you’d gotten on with him far more than you expected. Carmen had been shy at first but as you spent more time with him, you’d grown to liked his quiet humour and how remarkably observant he was. He instantly noticed your jeans as vintage Levi 501s, the only type of jean you’d worn since you could remember and eventually he’d become friends with both of you.

Carmen had taken a liking to you, surprising even himself. You were warm, friendly, and outgoing. You had this incredible ability to make absolutely anyone feel like the only person in the room.

Like when he or Luca broke down the process of making the dish they’d made, you’d be looking like it was describing the most interesting story you’d heard.

Questions like ‘so how do you curl the red pepper tuiles? Is that with a knife or am I a total idiot?’ and ‘is it always a green apple in the sugar dome?’ and ‘how do you know when the yuzu jelly is done?’ Even the things you’d say like ‘Can you make Le Tendance with white chocolate or does it have to be dark’

Carmy knew you probably didn’t know the difference between the different types of pans he mentioned or why it mattered. There was no stake in the debate he and Luca had been having over compressed watermelon sorbet for you. But you cared. You always cared.

It was endearing and made him feel appreciated, kept him passionate about cooking even after a long day so he warmed to you, like you’d inadvertently got a part of him, given him a quiet understanding and support, he desperately craved but thought he’d never get.

He was achingly jealous of Luca and your unwavering love and support. It was evident from how you’d gush supportively over Luca perfecting edible flowers or lychee creme or whatever. Carmy desperately craved more of the warmth and love you gave so freely.

****

“Here.”

Carmy pushed a plate of spaghetti gratin towards you. “uh, try it, lemme know what you think. Something I’ve…erm, been..working on.”

“For me?” You grinned excitedly, not even waiting for him to nod before picked up your fork and helped yourself to some, slipping it past your lips.

“Holy fuck” you moaned as the taste hit you. “That’s amazing, Carmy, so good…”

“Better than that one in Mayfair?” Luca asked, from beside you, with a small smile. Your eyes met his and you nodded causing him to smirk. “Told you it was good, man” he said to Carmy patting him on the shoulder “this guys good at everything!”

“Oh god yeah” you took another bite “Fuck me this is…wow.”

“See…” Luca nodded encouragly “And thats high praise from her. She loves that place!”

“Wha’ one in Mayfair?” Carmy turned to you, curious. He hadn’t been but he knew there was a large list of fine dining places there and was keen to know what, or rather, who you had to compare his against.

“Murano. My family used to have dinner there once a week” you explained “…it’s an incredible restaurant. It does the best spaghetti gratin I’ve ever had…” you dug your fork in again and helped yourself to more, pausing as you did “Well… until this one. Have you been to London? We should all go.”

You were effortlessly likeable, funny. Colourful flowers and feathers snaking their way up your arm, a little silver nose ring, vintage jeans and leather jackets. ‘Of course handsome Luca would have a cool girlfriend like you.’

“You two married long or…” Carmy had asked before he could stop himself and immediately winced at how he’d just blurted it out, kicking himself internally.

Beside him, Luca attempted to cover up his surprised expression as quickly as possible and wondered if it was noticeable how he tensed. Did Carmy have a thing for you? What would you say? Obviously she’s going to say you’re not together because guess what? You’re not. Just because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking she’s your girl doesn’t mean she is. Don’t fuck up the one consistent relationship you’ve had in your life.

“Oh…we’re not, we’re not married, he’s my best friend.” You said off hand as you pulled the fork from your mouth, slowly.

“Oh…I tho…” Carmy stopped himself as he caught Luca’s eye. Did he know?

The pair of them held the silence for a few seconds, each wondering if the other was as into you as they were. Luca moved first, dropping his hand from where it was resting over his lips, as if he meant to speak but you beat him to it

“Can I eat all of this?” You pointed at the dish with your fork.

And like that the moment was gone. You’d changed the subject, completely unaware of the tension in the air.

Carmy nodded. He liked that you always wanted another taste. In the kitchen, taste tests were usually quick, a bite to give some feedback and then on to the next. Here in the kitchen of a rental you’d got a short lease on was different.

The need you had for more of what he served gave him more confidence, reassured him. It somehow felt more rewarding than a colleague having a test only to say ‘Perfect, chef. Thanks’.

And Against all odds and all expectations, he’d found himself also wanting more.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

LONDON

You’d left Chicago with Luca after a few months to move to Copenhagen but had promised to keep in touch. From when you arrived, you’d been raving about it to him. How beautiful it was, how relaxed you felt there, so when he’d been offered the chance to go over to Noma and work, he’d been all too happy to go.

Truth be told, he also missed you. Calls and texts a were not cutting it.

Carmy was never one for answering the phone. Maybe it was a defense mechanism with Mikey never answering and not wanting to get his hopes up that it was his brother finally reaching out. Until you. If anything he found himself calling or texting you even when he was tired.

Talking to you helped switch off the static in his head, it was like you were his reminder to stay grounded, stay in the moment.

Carmy had scheduled his flights so he’d have a few days in London before his flight to Copenhagen, mostly to try the places you’d recommended. He’d reached out to ask for the details and it had just so happened you’d been in town for a friends wedding. You’d offered to come meet you the day after, he’d agreed in a second, happy for the opportunity to spend time with you.

****

Markets sprawled across different corners of the city, each with their own individual personality and you seemed to know them like the back of your hand. He’d let you lead, and it was the fourth one you’d been to with him today and at each one you’d insisted on buying from numerous stalls and making him try a variety of things of varying quality as well as buying yourself a pin that went straight onto the denim jacket you had slung loosely over your shoulders.

“Sometimes it’s good, sometimes less so, you know” you hooked your legs over the bench you’d managed to get to before a large group of school kids. “I know it’s not fancy but I just love the markets. All of ‘em”

“I can get not fancy,” Carmen laughed, something he noticed he did more often around you. It had become almost alien to smile or enjoy himself but with you it came naturally “I don’t really cook for myself all tha’ much” He helped himself to some of your bang-bang noodles and twisted them around with his chopsticks “it’s comfort food. I get it,”

“Yeah I bet…Come home after cooking all day, you probably just want something you can put in the microwave.”

“Sometimes not even that So a week ago? Had leftover pizza and I’m talkin’ anymore leftover and I think it woulda just been gone off pizza. Didn’t even re-heat it”

“I don’t know if that’s gross or impressive!” You laughed and it made Carmy smile, he loved it that he could draw that reaction from you and loved that he smiled, really smiled, with you. He couldn’t remember the last time he could be like that around someone.

You paused for a minute, taking a drink from your can of Diet Coke before you spoke again.

“Reservations at eight by the way. I don’t know if it’ll compare but I wanted you to try it.”

“Reservation?” Carmy tilted his head, wondering if he’d forgotten something.

“Yeah.” You nodded giving him a wide grin “it’s a great restaurant in the Shard. You don’t think I’d take a chef to London and not try somewhere did you?”

****

That evening he found himself in a navy dress shirt he’d bought that same day sitting across from you. You’d changed into a little black dress, a small cardigan that was over your shoulders, sliding slightly down and he could see a pink peony on your shoulder.

If he was honest, he half been expecting Luca to show up but when you’d approached the maitre d, he’d greeted you by name and said ‘table for two’ and Carmy had silently breathed a sigh of relief and then instantly felt guilty over it.

Luca was a nice guy. Carmy sometimes wished he was a raging asshole so it would be easier to put his jealousy of him down to that and not his proximity and closeness to you.

****

“You look really good in navy.” You complimented, cutting through his thoughts. The waiter just had cleared away one of the other countless courses, a sous vide duck, that was as expected; delicious, even if he’d have opted for a different garnish.

Carmy felt his heart pick up. Had you just been sitting there thinking he looked good? He felt himself smile a little but was quick to downplay it, blinking back a response “you… you think?”

“Yeah, Navy really suits you, Carmy. You should wear it more often...”

‘Done’ he thought to himself.

“Thanks, I mean you, uh, you look nice too,”

You smiled at him but before you could respond, the waiter was at your table again, with a further course. Steamed chocolate sponge, baked white chocolate and sugar snap salad, the first of a few desserts.

“Wow” you muttered and you pointed at the plate “this looks so good…” you watched him take a bite and nod approvingly before you asked “Is it weird being on this side of the wall? Doing the eating and not the cooking?”

“A little…uh, I guess it’s not often that m’not worrying about everything being perfect,” Carmy grimaced and ran a hand through his hair “I feel tuned into their kitchen even though I’ve never been in it. Is that weird?” His hand rested over his chin waiting for you to respond.

You shook your head “No… No I don’t think so…” you dropped your voice and leant in closer. He could smell your perfume, your shampoo and soap from your skin. “if so, it’s also weird that I can’t switch off the translating and have been evasdropping on that German couple,” you looked to your right with your eyes

Taking your joke as a distraction from how much he’d like to bury his lips in your neck and kiss you, he laughed and took a bite of his dish. You’d made a good decision, this restaurant was excellent as you’d promised it would be.

Is this what you did with Luca? Go travel and visit places with him and try new foods and laugh?

A mix between jealousy and confusion crossed his mind as the thought occurred and he found himself wondering how Luca could not make a fucking move.

Is he crazy or does he have the willpower of a fucking saint. The question rang in Carmens mind before ‘You’re not making a move either,’ he told himself internally ‘being jealous of her friend, being jealous of a guy she’s known since she was a kid. She’s not into you. She does not want you, fucko. She could do better than you. You can’t compete, she’s not going to want you. You just wish you’d had her all this time like Luca has don’t you, would you have been as fucked in the head if you’d had her supporting you all this time?

“Carmy?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. “You kinda went somewhere there? You good”

“Uh, yeah, imma just go for a quick smoke..” he began to stand up and excused himself as he did

“There’s no terrace, you’ll have to go to ground, you want me to come with?” You made a move to put down your fork, to go with him. You looked a little concerned like you weren’t 100% buying that it was a nicotine craving driving the need for air.

“No no, you stay here, jus’ need to…” he waved and headed out pressing the button to take him to the ground level.

Once Carmy was outside, he ignored the request for smokers not to loiter too close to the building and lit up, taking a drag and letting the nicotine hit, leaning back against one of the pillars.

‘I am so fucked’

———————————————————————————

BOTH

COPENHAGEN

“So the cat…?” Carmy started to ask

He’d been in the city a week, deciding he’d work in Copenhagen for a while before heading to New York, and had been staying on a houseboat that apparently had a cat. Despite the note asking him to leave water out for the cat. The water never moved and there was no cat ever there.

You and Luca shared a look and started laughing.

“We lived on this boat until recently. Six months and I never saw that cat once. Bowl never moved.” you said “My theory is that the cat died and they still leave water out for it, Luca’s convinced it was a stray. He still changed the water every day, which was pretty sweet of him…”

Luca tilted his head a little. You’d thought it was sweet? Him looking after some imaginary cat? Maybe he should get a real one and wondered if he should mention it to you. ‘Bit coupley isn’t it, getting a cat? Get a cat so she thinks it’s cute and sees you with the cat and…you still won’t tell her you’re in love with her will you’ Luca told himself internally. He couldn’t stop picturing it though and noted it down as a maybe for the future idea.

****

“Tell Carmy about that Home Economics class you had!” Luca took a sip of his drink as the three of you sat at the table of the houseboat, sharing a few drinks one evening.

“Oh!” You perked up putting down your own as you sat up on your seat “this is so funny! We had this teacher, who set us task to bring in a a lunch you made at home, now I totally forgot because I had my French mock exam that morning…so of course I had to think fast so I didn’t get detention!”

You paused for dramatic effect. Luca biting back a laugh knowing what was coming. “Still can’t believe you got away with that.” He shook his head.

“I went to KFC on my lunch and got the strips and two sides, the corn and the salad, I spent the rest of my lunch, deconstructing it… if you will..” you gestured dramatically “so cutting up the chicken, peeling the skin off, eating some of it, shelling the corn with a blunt compass,” you emphasised, thinking your skill was impressive, “and mixing it into the salad and pretended I’d made a chicken salad.”

“She got a fucking A as well,” Luca commented as Carmy laughed at your ridiculous improvisation. “Don’t know how, but apparently Mrs Kennedy had never had a KFC before!”

“You might have if you weren’t skiving.” You raised your eyebrows. “Forever bunking this one” you pointed at him but you were smiling fondly as you did.

“Hey, You skived sometimes too. I remember you skived off PE to go to that game with me!” Luca joked back, playfully poking you in the side

“Yeah went all that way, sat with your fans and we lost”

Your pout drew a smile from Luca who knew you supported his teams rival, before you continued “and that goal was still not offside!” you emphasised.

Luca began to insist that it was, with a playful grin, knowing he was winding you up at how aggrieved you were over a game that was well over decade old.

Carmy forced a smile at the back and forth between you and Luca, taking another sip of his own drink, hoping the coolness would quell the feeling inside.

He hated it that it bothered him that you and Luca had all these shared memories, that the only time you ever bickered was over your rival teams and even then it was teasing, that Luca had known all these different versions of you, that he probably would always have that shared bond with you.

You and Luca were now bantering back and forth in a playful way that made his chest hurt so he stood up and made his way to the kitchen and began shuffling through the drawers until he found something wedged between two of them.

“What the hell is this ?” Carmy couldn’t help himself as he pulled out the cheese knife. There is no way this was one of Luca’s that he’d left when he’d lived on the boat, meaning it had to be…

“Oh my god my knife!” You perked up, abandoning your spot at the table “I’d wondered that was!”

Your cheese knife.

Your old, falling apart, slightly…okay very, blunt cheese knife.

Luca had tried on multiple occasions to persuade you to get a new one but you’d insisted you liked your old one and trusted it. Until it disappeared when you moved off the houseboat and you assumed you’d accidentally knocked it into the water or something.

“Not that knife” Luca groaned as his eyes shot over to the black handled knife Carmy held. “I was hoping you’d lost that for good” he grinned half jokingly “but it just keeps coming back”

“It’s a knife, Luca, not a haunted doll!” You laughed “I must have just left it here before we moved!”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if it was haunted.” It was his turn to pull a face, first at you then at Carmy.

“Hey I got this knife my first year of University and…” you attempted to protest

“Yeah I can tell..” Carmy spoke, giving you a pointed look. “It’s falling apart!”

“It never failed me.” You continued ignoring both of them at this point “when I wanted a late night block of cheese it was there…”

“You coulda got a professional one or anythin’ that’s not some cheap whole sale crap”

“Actually, it was from Ikea.”

The shared expression of horror between the two men was enough for you to crack up and concede, knowing you could not defend your knife to one chef, let alone two.

“Okay” you threw your hands up “Fine… but how about we leave it here, on this boat…to…”

“Fuckin’ mentally scar any chef that might be put up here in the future?” Carmy added with a laugh and was only met with a swift side eye from you, followed by a sly smirk suggesting you knew he and Luca had convinced you.

****

“What’s the note say?” Carmy asked nodding at a piece of paper glued to the front of Luca’s first Copenhagen notebook. He’d taken it out to read over some notes, prepare himself and prep.

He knew it was likely in Danish but it didn’t look like one of the common phrases he’d tried, to little avail, to practice. It looked a bit like your writing, but he couldn’t be sure.

Luca felt a flood of warmth at the chance to talk about it.

“So it’s this little tradition we do, she writes me these sentences in whatever language of the country we’re staying in. They’re usually like, ‘Well done’ or ‘you’re the best’ or something.” he enthused

“Oh.” Was all Carmy could manage at first. The jealousy sat in his stomach in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Carmy hated that he was jealous but he wanted you to write him cute notes, phrases he’d only half understand “Sounds…erm, sounds nice.” was all he managed before his throat went dry.

“What are you drawing anyway?” Luca nodded at the half open notebook. As his eyes flickered down to the paper, Carmy felt his stomach drop, the breeze had blown the pages past the passionfruite posset, past the wagu beef, past the shaded menu options and right to…

You

Carmy couldn’t cover it quickly enough.

Luca just looked from the paper, back to Carmy, back to you and could feel his heartbeat in his ears.

Course Carmy likes her too. And he’s better than you at everything. She’d pick him you know. Probably already has. Why did you introduce them? That would be tragic. Introducing the one woman you’re desperately in love with to her future man and never making the move yourself. Had her as your best friend, your roommate and still couldn’t tell her you wanted her. You’re a fucking idiot.

He said your name.

“You like her?” Loud enough for Carmy but not for you. Carmy didn’t answer but he didn’t close over his book. “You into her?”

After a moment, Luca sighed, and scratched his cheek and sat beside him, accepting Carmy’s silence as confirmation.

“Yeah, me too mate.” He said quietly before passing his friend a drink.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

COPENHAGEN

With Luca securing his dream job and you able to work remotely, you’d found a bigger place together in Copenhagen. The temporary houseboat to a small place to this bigger apartment now, with a large open plan kitchen and a walk in pantry for Luca to store whatever he might need when he brought work home with him. You didn’t mind as long as he let you taste it.

You’d won the coin toss and scored the room that overlooked the water. Luca hadn’t complained, you worked mostly from home so it made sense for you to have the room with a view and also he’d have conceded anyway, knowing it would make you happy.

****

As Luca entered the room, he saw you from behind, a pair of mid thigh cycle shorts on and a large oversized black t-shirt, getting something out of the fridge. It slowly dawned on him that you were wearing his t-shirt.

The t-shirt on him was tight over his broad shoulders, stopping on his hips but on you, it hung loose and ended about at the end of your thigh, owing to the big height difference between the two of you. Making it look like it was all you were wearing. He’d seen you in shorts before, of course he had but this felt different. It was his t-shirt over the shorts making his brain go haywire.

“Hey!” You turned and greeted him, smiling. “How was work? Did that 70th birthday go well?”

“You’re…you’re wearing my shirt.” was all he could manage before he felt his throat dry up. “Are you?”

‘Get a grip man what are you a fucking teenager’ he chastised himself internally. You’ve drawn attention to it, you could have just enjoyed the view a little while longer…’

“Oh shit sorry, yeah, I just, I got stuff down mine and the doorbell was ringing and yours was at the top of the clean laundry. I didn’t think it was appropriate to open the door in just my bra.” You put what you needed on the counter and moved back beginning to prepare whatever you were making. “Not the best first impression. He might have got the wrong idea…”

Luca just hummed a laugh and didn’t say anything as he tried to stop his brain wandering to you wearing his shirt in other scenarios and he had to shut his eyes. He brought his hand to his temple, and massaged, hoping he could conceal his brain betraying him as tiredness.

“It was the landlord.” You carried on “He said rents due on the 2nd, the utility room is on the 5th floor and he’d like you to get him a reservation, he likes rhubarb and pistachio sorbet” you began relaying the translation of the landlords message.

It was around a minute later he realised he hadn’t actually replied being too busy thinking about, walking over to you, lifting you onto the counter and kissing you hard, sliding down those shorts and having you just in his shirt.

“Luca? Luca, are you okay?” He snapped back to Earth realising you were looking at him “you kinda zoned out”

“Uh yeah, rent by the 5th, utilities on the 2nd” he repeats, waving his hand.

“Other way round, you dope” you laughed. “Come here and help me anyway” You wave him over to the kitchen. “I’m making something. Sorry to take work home with you but I need your expertise!”

“Branching out from the air fryer?” he raises an eyebrow and you laugh

“What! it’s quick!” You protested in defence.

He smiled in agreement “You got a point. Come on now what do you need help with?”

You nodded towards some peaches “Can you dice those whilst I fix this dough out?”

Luca agreed and began dicing but he couldn’t help his eyes, drift back you for a few moments every so often. He watched as you attempted to knead the dough but couldn’t quite get the pressure right and struggled to push down owing to the angles.

“No, like this. The angles better if you…” Luca put down the knife, peaches sliced and diced to perfection. “Here I’ll show you”

He moved around the counter and put an arm either side of you, his hands on top of yours, pressing yours moulding the dough, as you let him lead, relaxing. He began holding your hands with his so he could knead whilst showing you. He tried to resist the urge to press into you, to hold you tight against him.

“Like this, see” he said quietly and you nodded, watching his hands and yours under them as he moved effortlessly.

“Yes, chef” you jokingly quipped and Luca had to bite his lip to stop him dropping to your neck.

It wasn’t quite what he’d like to be doing right now but it settled something else for him. So much so that maybe it was even preferable. This almost quietly domestic, almost coupley activity.

When the dough was done, he reluctantly stepped back instantly missing the contact with you, as he watched you line the dish with the dough and peaches and slide it into the oven.

“Thanks Luca” you grinned at him.

“Anytime.” Was about all he could manage and he meant it, that two minutes set his stomach alight more than anything he could remember.

You ate it together on the small balcony later that evening and as you’d asked him how it felt to finally get everything he wanted; job as head pastry chef at a Michelin restaurant and beautiful place to call home in a gorgeous city. He had to hold himself back from saying

How can I have everything I want but I don’t have you. Not in the way I want you.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

NEW YORK

“How’s Eleven Madison Park.” You asked him. He’d started a few months ago and told you to come visit when you were next in New York. Of course you’d accepted.

The head chef hates me. And not just from a cooking point of view. He actively hates me. I throw up every day before work and usually have a panic attack in the walk-in at least twice a week, he gets weirdly personal, he thinks I’m shit, told me to die yesterday. Carmy thought but hesitated, reluctant to dump his stresses out there in the open incase you thought he was overreacting.

“It’s good, but erm, I mean it’s…a lot, the head chef he’s…”

“A dick?” You suggested recognising the ‘I hate my boss’ look on his face.

Carmy looked a little startled and then he let out a breathy laugh. “He’s one of the best chefs in the world…but yeah…he’s an ass…” he stopped

“What does he say to you?” You asked, carefully.

Carmy didn’t want to say it out loud, saying it out loud felt like it would give more weight to the words and some deep paranoid part of him worried you’d agree or even worse that you’d realise and think ‘he’s got a point, you are worthless and insecure and too slow and pathetic’

“Yknow…just always on me…” his voice was quiet.

He felt the twitch in his leg and ran a hand over his mouth biting on his knuckle for a few seconds, trying to distract himself but all he could hear was his voice in his head.

“Carmy?” You noticed the furrow in his brow and his leg bouncing and his hands against his mouth “You ‘kay?”

When he didn’t respond, you continued, concerned but careful. “Carmy, babe, can you look at me? That’s all I need you to do,”

It was a struggle as he rose his head, forced his eyes open and locked his wide eyed stare onto yours. You smiled gently and exhaled, gesturing for him to follow.

He did and you did this a few more times, talking him through breathing a few more times.

‘Well done fucko, she definitely thinks you’re crazy now’

But your expression didn’t suggest that at all. The opposite. Your look was one of understanding, of compassion and kindness.

“I find this helps.” You lifted your fingers to your own neck where it joined with your shoulder, the clavicle just below, you pressed down in a massaging motion.

“Can I touch you?” You ask and Carmen swore he short circuited but instead he just nodded and hoped it wasn’t too needy, too quick that he responded to you asking to touch him.

With his permission, you put your hand on him, a copy of your own. “Like this.” your hand was on his chest right over his clavicle, circling my gently “Focus on my voice”

You continued to talk to him until he held his heart rate calm and whispered out a ‘thank you’

“Glad I can help” Before you removed your hand from his chest, your fingers brushed the gold chain he always wore, you looped it out from under his shirt. “I like this.”

“Thank you.” He said again, trying to focus on the words and not the soft touch “had it since I can remember.”

“There’s another pressure point…” you said, and took his hand and gently pressed between his thumb and finger, “Just here….”

Your hand paused as the other side skirted his palm and you froze, turning it over and seeing a partially healed burn, still red and sore. “Ouch.”

“Occupational hazard” he said with a wry smile. “It’s fine now, was worse a few days ago” he hummed

“Lemme clean it properly for you. I see plenty of utensil related injuries. My best friend is a chef too, remember. Dont want you to make it worse…”

Of course, fucking Luca. Handsome and a nice guy. What a prick.

He was pretty silent as he you cleaned it for him then you’d insisted on a cream, tracing the cut gently once you’d done “There we go, good as new”

“I like you being here.” He squeezed your hand in a moment of bravery “it’s quieter”

A laugh escaped your lips “No ones ever thought of me as quiet but I’m glad I can help.” You gave him such a lovely, soft smile that he couldn’t help but fall in love with you again.

“I mean in my head.” He said with a laugh “you, uh, y’make it quiet in my head”

Its like you turn down the volume in my head and up the warm brightness, I love you. No one has ever been like this with me. I think I’d fall apart without you. I love you.

You squeezed his hand gently “I’m glad I can do that for you” and he could have sworn he felt it in his chest.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

COPENHAGEN

Luca was barely able to keep the grin off his face. He’d been working on a special dessert just for you, going in early, finishing late, all to perfect this.

The thinnest wafer with a soft caramel creme scooped over centre, topped with a milk chocolate dome. It was a fine dining version of a long since discontinued chocolate bar that you’d loved and he could hear you approach the restaurant kitchen in perfect time.

“Hey! You ready to take off? Film starts in half an hour?”

“Here…I…” He carefully lifted the lid from the plate. “I made something for you!”

“Oh my god this looks amazing!” You stared putting down your bag, as Luca prodded the pouring chocolate towards you. You picked it up and he watched your face completely light up as you poured to reveal the concoction under it.

“Wow…this is so cool!…wait…Is this…” Your eyes lit up when you clocked what had inspired the assembled plate in front of you. “No way! Luca, how did you do this?”

His hands ran through his waves a few times and he crossed muscular arms over his large chest.

“I made it.” He said as if it was a love confession “for you.”

“Oh my god. Okay, I’m going to need you to walk me through it!? This has to be my favourite thing you’ve ever made and I haven’t even tried it yet! What even made you think of this? this is so cool”

Luca grinned and it was the same wicked smile he used to give you when you were younger and he was up to something.

‘Because I love you and you miss it and you look for it in every food store in every country we go to. You think I don’t see you looking but I do. If they won’t bring it back and make you happy, I’ll bring it back for you. Sorry it took so long. I wanted it to be perfect because you’re perfect. I love you’

“You wanna know how I made it?”

Luca gave you that look. He loved it when you asked about his process, you always did but this, the chance to gush about how he created something for you? He could do this all day.

“Course I do!” You spooned a large amount into your mouth and couldn’t stop the sound that escaped your mouth. “Fuck, this is insane. It’s perfect, Luca, oh my god”

“So to get the wafers right, you have to make sure it’s smooth wheat flour, see.” he used a fork to point at the rippled wafer in the dessert, pointing out the waves he’d folded the wafer into. “And I had to match the water at exactly the right about, increase or decrease based on the soaking characteristics of the flour. Took me a couple of gos…to get it exactly like it used to be…first couple it was too dense, the consistency was all off, after that it wasn’t thick enough and would break when I tried to roll it.”

You were looking at him like you were interested as you helped yourself to more.

“And you’re going off memory? For the consistency?” It was impressive being that the bar had been discontinued for about ten years.

Luca nodded, spurred on by how impressed you sounded “yeah I remember them. Super soft, so thin, folded over but with space between each wave…have to do it perfectly or it breaks when you roll it. It’s got to be feather soft.”

“You are such a nerd.” You said, but your eyes were soft and you were smiling at him softly “Go on…” you prompted

He shot a glance up to see you watching as if you couldn’t take your eyes off him, hanging on every word, he often worried he was being a geek or boring when he did this but you looked so engaged.

Luca was grateful you followed that with “how did you make the rest” because if you hadn’t the ‘it’s no problem, I’d give you anything. I love you so much I created this because you miss it.’ was sitting at the back of his throat.’

“The creme caramel was a little bit trickier than your standard, see it’s not got the regular consistency, it’s more dense and it’s closer to a creme than actual caramel.” He took a small scoop with a teaspoon and smeared it across an edge of a plate so you could see it spread thinly, smooth and creamy. “It’s all in the texture. The chocolate is all about the tempering… I wanted the dome to reveal it perfectly no matter where you started your pour, so I made twenty batches and practised so the chocolate would melt and reveal like a curtain pull back rather than just caving in… hold on,”

He got up, left the table and came back with two batches of domes and demonstrated for you, showing you on how the remaining earlier batches, it caved in but on the newer batches the melt was almost like a gravity defying curtain pull up.

Engrossed you watched like it was a magic trick.

“Luca this is…one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.” You said softly “Thank you so much.”

“Does it taste like it did?” He asked the important question.

“You know.” You tapped the fork off the plate “Usually whenever they bring something back, it’s never as good. This…” you ate some more “is so incredible. It’s better. You are a genius! Who else can make desserts based on discontinued chocolate bars from memory alone! You’re so talented Luca, no one deserves this more than you.”

“I wouldn’t be where I am without you, you believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself”

“It’s easy to believe in you when you’re so clearly talented. Is this going on the menu?”

Luca nodded his head “It was meant to be just for you but I think I might…but I’ll still make it for you anytime you ever want it, maybe I’ll call it ‘The [Name]’,”

The smile you gave him was one he’d have given anything to see forever.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

NEW YORK

“Are you fucking kidding me? You think by the time the flight takes off and lands it’d be defrosted.”

You were staring at the departure board at JFK airport, your oversized luggage beside you as you drummed your fingers off the handle- DELAYED- AWAIT FURTHER ANNOUNCEMENT written next to your flight.

Carmy was all too aware of what the snow storm on both sides of the Atlantic meant as he stood beside you wondering if he thought it was wrong of him for hoping the snowstorm engulfing the airport was long lasting enough to ground your flight. He knew his own flight would be delayed too.

‘You’re a selfish mother fucker, wanting her flight grounded, She’ll easily go off and check into some fancy hotel and you’ll be alone and it’ll be what you deserve’

‘Attention all passengers- We regret to inform you flight DAT150846 to Copenhagen is cancelled. Please see our customer relations desk for further communications.’

“Fuck” you whistled and you started typing on your phone, no doubt sourcing alternatives.

“I mean I can get to Esbjerg from Newark but my flight won’t leave until tomorrow and there’s always the risk of the trains being cancelled so that’s one of a hell of an Uber. Which means I’ll get in…” you trailed off, as you attempted to work out the time difference.

‘Don’t go’ he wanted to say. He opened his mouth to say…something, anything but was cut off by the tannoy.

“Further announcement to all passengers travelling on the flight AA113717 to Chicago. This flight has now been cancelled. Please see our customer relations desk for more information.

“Shit that’s your flight, Carmy, they’re both cancelled” the second announcement interrupted your counting. You locked your phone as if it was his announcement and not yours that made your mind up and looked at him.

‘Good’ he thinks back to the Christmases of past, screaming, tension, arguments and yelling, hanging anxiety waiting for all of the above. The mental image of Donna, his mother, locked in her own car, which she’d plowed through the front of the family home a few years back, he thought of the Christmas he worked, where his executive chef chewed him out for…fuck knows, sitting there taking personal jibes after personal jibes, and thought ‘I’d rather spend it with you’

Subconsciously he straightens up, realising he probably should say something.

“It’s okay…I uh, don’t mind, Christmases my way can be…a lot” he shrugged and you understood.

Carmy had, in enough words for you to understand explained that his family, especially around Christmas, were in the most tactful wording; difficult. He didn’t mention them often, you knew he didn’t like taking about them but you knew enough to know it wasn’t usually a fun Christmas for him.

“This might be so weird, I know you’ve got your cousin in the city who you’re probably having dinner with but do you… maybe want to come to the air BnB I’m renting for Christmas. Not expecting you to cook off the clock, we can order in?”

“Michelle left a few days ago.” He said, referring to his cousin leaving for Chicago before the storm blew in, instead of ‘Yes, I’d love that. I’d rather be with you anyway’. Kicking himself internally, he took a breath “I mean…not that changes…” he brought his hand through his wavy hair before he took a breaths

“I’d like that. That sounds…great.”

****

You’d done the best you could, spending the dying hours of Christmas Eve decorating the Air BnB. Carmy had arrived early with a take out breakfast from a deli you loved and you’d spent the morning eating.

Wanting Carmy to open his present first, you passed it over and watched him unwrap it and the realisation slowly settle

“Is this?”

You nodded “Uh-huh.”

Carmy unpacked it from the wrapping and held it against himself. ‘We stopped for less than ten seconds’ he thought to himself as he unfolded the jacket.

“How did you know?” His blue eyes met yours, a curious expression on his face.

“I saw you looking. Remember a few months ago?” The way you said it is was as if it was obvious.

He’d never felt important enough for his sideways glances, one off comments and quick observations to be picked up on. For you to pick up on it…it made him feel special, loved even.

She does not love you, motherfucker. You’re delusional.

It was on one occasion when you’d wandered through the city together in fall. It was in the window of a vintage shop. He’d commented on it, off-hand, that he’d always liked a jacket like that. You’d tried to talk him in to going in and trying it on. It looked like it would be his size but he’d brushed it off in a ‘don’t matter’ type way.

“Yeah I went back that afternoon. Try it on! We can go for a Christmas walk later. Maybe in the park? I had it dry cleaned too”

Carmy didn’t say much for fear you’d think he was crazy or overreacting “Thank you”

You nodded “And I’ve ordered you a bookshelf, it’s only an Ikea one but your cook books are on the floor. Trust me, you’ll thank me.” you noted and suddenly Carmy felt himself relax again and laugh as he passed you over your present for fear he might actually cry from how lovely you were if things didn’t move on.

“Is this the soundtrack?”

You asked as you immediately unwrapped the vinyl, slid it out, squealing when you saw the limited run pressing. It was from one of your favourite 80s movies. “This is amazing, the pressing is beautiful! Thank you.”

“Yeah I watched it….Good movie. I, um, found it in a second hand store. figured you’d…like it.” He averted his eyes from yours, shyly. He left out that it was an online store and he’d spent four hours in an auction before just emailing the seller privately and telling him he’d double whatever the other guy was offering.

“You watched something else other than the cooking channel?” You joked in return, sensing he felt a little awkward about it and wanting to lighten the mood.

“Yeah well…” he looked down and back up, hands through his hair again. “I…wanted to do something nice cause…you’re always…you’re good to me”

Your eyes didn’t leave him for a second.

She’s just grateful. She’s just your friend.

“Nothing less than what you deserve…but thank you. Merry Christmas, Carmy” You leant in and kissed his cheek, only an inch or so from where he wished you’d kiss him.

After you finished your deli breakfast, you’d go for the promised walk in the park, and Carmy wondered if in some other universe, you were doing the same thing but hand in hand rather than side by side. You walked longer than you’d planned and he found himself talking more about that Christmas. Of course you were understanding, non-judgemental and Carmy opened up to you more than he’d ever opened up to anyone; about how he chased a culinary career after Mikey refused to let him work in the family restaurant, the constant panic attacks he had over the current restaurant he worked at and the retaining of three stars that the Head Chef had still found fault with him over and about how sometimes he missed Copenhagen and longed for those days on the houseboat with an imaginary cat and as he usually did with you, he felt lighter.

When you returned back, you collapsed onto the sofa, warm despite the cold air and gestured for him to sit with you

“Put it on one of those cooking shows and tell me how you’d make it better”

You tossed him the remote.

Without saying anything, he turned it on, sat beside you and listened to the sounds of the contestants completing a Christmas Dinner challenge filled the air.

To himself, Carmy wondered if this was the best Christmas he’d had in years, maybe in his adult life.

He knew the answer already.

———————————————————————————

BOTH

It had been several weeks since you’d seen either of them. Luca, he was now back in Copenhagen and Carmen had left for Chicago, having inherited his brothers restaurant, following his suicide.

God, Mikey.

You’d spent four days with Carmy in the immediate aftermath, mostly in silence, making sure he took care of himself. Occasionally he’d share something about Mikey which surprised him more than it surprised you. When it had come to it, you’d asked him if he wanted you to go to the funeral with him as support but he’d refused.

‘Don’t wanna put you through my fucking family’ he’d said. You knew it was an excuse but now was not the time to push.

He’d left for Chicago but told you three days later, he didn’t go in, expecting you to tell him he was pathetic, cruel even, but you’d asked why and then, as you always did, just listened.

****

You’d been in touch with them both over FaceTimes and texts like any other time but this felt different.

Carmy, you’d call when he was on random lunch breaks scattered through the day whenever he had the chance. By the time, his shift was over, he’d be too tired and collapse so you scheduled them as you could. You knew he was trying to work on his late brothers restaurant but knew it was shaping up to be a huge task. He’d been going to the Al-Anon meetings and had been trying but it was you who helped most even when you weren’t there.

He thought about you, when he was anxious about the restaurant, stressed about everything and when he couldn’t cope with thinking about how fucked it was that Mikey, who wouldn’t let him work in his restaurant, had fucking left it to him.

Carmy knew he had to tell you how he felt, maybe he could ask you to come out and tell you how he felt. He opened his phone, typed out a message to you and hit send and then promptly locked his phone in his locker and unsuccessfully tried not to think about it.

****

Luca you’d call at night. It reminded you of when you were both kids and you’d stay up late talking on the phone, whispering and giggling until your parents would tell you to get off the phone. You still made him laugh now as you’d relay some horrible mistranslation at work and try to make him guess what it said and what was meant.

God he missed you, every little thing about you. All he could think, despite having his dream job and living in a beautiful city was how he wanted you.

You were the one consistent relationship he had. Other people had come and gone but you’d been there since the beginning, seen him at his best, his worst and everything inbetween and he didn’t think he could have done it without you. He couldn’t lose you.

Luca unlocked his phone, wrote a message to you and clicked it shut before the read receipt could come up.

———————————————————————————

DECISION TIME

Messages (2)

Luca - “Please come back to Copenhagen, I’m going crazy. It’s not the same without you”

Carmy - “Hey, do you maybe wanna come out to Chicago again? Wanna see you soon?”

“That the two guys that are in love with you?” Your friend said “Right on time.”

You’d just been discussing your relationship with both of them and she’d been so insistent they were both in love with you. A part of you knew but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Let’s see your boyfriends.” Your friend pushed

“They’re not my boyfriends” You protested.

“Okay fine. Please let me see the two men competing for you.”

“Fucking hell, they’re not competing for me” Your eyes rolled, as you chucked your unlocked phone at her. “You make it sound like I’m… Bridget Jones or Bella Swan or something”

“I mean… you kinda are, honey.” she flicked through your phone finding a picture of Luca. “Wait. THATS Luca, your school friend Luca? When did that happen?“ She zoomed in “When did he get hot? -And tall! What is he now like…6’3”?”

“Of course it’s the same Luca.” You muttered. “You think I’ve been travelling about with some other Luca?”

“Show me the other guy!” She said excitedly and you rolled your eyes playfully, she was like a teenager sometimes.

“Three photos down”

“Holy shit, he’s got gorgeous eyes.” She noted looking at a photo you’d taken with Carmy “imagine those big baby blues being hard to say no to…and nice biceps too… I bet he could bench press you.” She comments casually and nudges you. “Okay so they’re both hot, so my plan of go for the hot one is out of the question.” She cocked her head.

“That’s not helpful. I don’t know what to do, they’re both great, amazing guys.”

“Which one do you want to bang…” she looked at you “most. Like if you could only sleep with one of them, which one.”

“Really, again, not helpful.”you rolled your eyes and shoved her.

“Okay in all seriousness, put everything out of your mind,” she shushed you before you could protest. “You know who you want, its obvious, just admit it to yourself and go be with him”

You nodded. She was right. She always was

“I need you to drive me the airport.”

———————————————————————————

Choose: LUCA

Your friend grinned at you, as you tapped your card on the machine having bought a ticket on the next flight out and watched as the airport worker wrapped a luggage tag around yours, sending your suitcase off.

“I knew it.” She shook her head “I mean I’m one for a slow burn romance you know me. “But years?”

One of her eyebrows raised “I would say text me when you land but you’ll probably be too busy…” she sighed and gave you a loaded look “God, you’re so lucky…”

“Fuck off” you gave her a shove and then pulling her back for a hug you nodded. “I’ll text you in a few days.”

You sent a text to Luca- “I know, I miss you… you’ll see me soon.” and then a picture of your passport.

****

There he was waiting for you as you arrived. You hadn’t expected it but of course he had.

You couldn’t stop yourself from running over to him and he, without care that you were at the arrivals gate, in an international airport, wrapped his arms around you, leant down, tilted your head up and gave you a long, lingering kiss that was years of ‘I love yous’, years of kisses, years of yearning, years of shared jokes and memories and years of being just you and Luca wrapped up in one kiss.

He could feel his heart beating like it might explode at any minute. He’d resolved himself to just fucking kiss you the next time he saw you. Your response to his message plus how you’d ran to him had confirmed in that very moment that he had to. And here you were, kissing him back.

“I love you.” He said against your mouth, instead of a hello, words whispered so only you could hear them. “I love you. I should have told you sooner. I love you.”

You let go of your case, moving your hand to toy with the hair at the back of his neck, standing on tip-toes to close the gap in height.

“Hi…I love you” you whispered, laughing as he placed his forehead on yours “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Years, give or take,” Luca gave you an honest look that made you jokingly roll your eyes.

“I meant at the airport.”

He laughed. “Went it quick when I was trying to convince myself that I’d gotten the right idea from your text”

An eyebrow raise from you told him all he needed to know and he kissed you once again

“Definitely no wrong idea. Why do you think I got on the first flight out”

You said breathlessly against his lips before pulling him down for another kiss. His hair was ever so slightly longer, pushed back with a black hairband. He’d worn it like that the first time you’d gone to Chicago with him, he’d left the hairband in after a shift once and you’d commented on how much it suited him.

“I love you so much.” You said to him againz

Realising a large group of tourists had now begun to stare, you separated. Awkwardly he held up a hand and muttered something to them with a wave causing you to burst into laughter.

“Did you just say ‘Welcome to Copenhagen I hope you enjoy your stay’ to the nice group of tourists?”

“How did you know which flight I’d be on?” You said linking your fingers with Luca’s as he picked up your suitcase in the other arm and began walking. It felt so natural to be holding his hand after all this time.

“You always like the mid-morning flight. Remember I booked us on the six am to Venice and I thought you were going to push me out the plane”

You laughed so loudly the large group looked back around causing it to be your turn to hold your hand up in apology.

“Yeah I might have done if you weren’t carrying the passports. Now I think I’m ready for you to take me home” you leant into his side.

****

“Fucking hell.” You whispered half to him, half to yourself. “Luca, that was…”

Any worry about crossing that line was gone, it had been gone when he’d picked you up with one arm, as you entered the place you’d shared in Nyhavn. Mouths mashing together, his teeth pulling on your lip, a whisper ask of ‘are you sure’ as he slid his hand under your shirt, you answering him by sucking on his neck as he held you against him, your legs around his waist

The sudden romantic moment became funny when he’d paused in the hallway and asked “My room or yours?” but you’d never have it any other way.

Luca had been gentle at first, careful. Took his time with you. Laid you down and finished you off with his hands and his mouth, and you were back flat against the mattress, aching for him to fill you. So had reached up and cupped his face, locking your ankles at the base of his back and told him you needed him desperately, that you wouldn’t break. Luca had moaned into you at your encouragement which had only made you ache more. And after he’d let the years of want lead and take over, taking you hard and fast, giving you the best night you’d ever had and drawing another climax from you until you dropped back down on the bed back splayed and hips arched for him to finish deep inside you.

**

“I know. Been thinking about us doing that for a while now…You okay?” He linked your hand with his, without looking. He was still over you, caging you against him.

“You thought about that?” You gently played with his hair.

“All the time” he said casually. “Both that and this”

He was resting on your chest now, planting small kisses across your collarbone, gentle and loving. You felt yourself flush both at the casual sexiness of his statement followed by how sweetly he checked in.

“Luca, talking like that makes me want you again.”

Luca grinned with a sly look on his face “You can have me whenever you like.” He rubbed your hip and squeezed, a silent push to answer the ‘you okay?’

“I’m better than okay.” You ran a hand through his hair playing with the soft waves “are you?”

“Just got all I wanted.” Another kiss to your lips, slowly and sweetly. “I’m on cloud fucking nine”

“It was killing me.” He said quietly after a few moments, drawing patterns over your skin making goosebumps break out “…I know I had no right to be jealous, we weren’t together, I think to me, it felt like we were,”

A small sigh escaped his lips, the breath fluttering against your skin. He’d had a point. Looking back, it had sometimes felt like you were together.

“I saved the time difference in my phone and drove myself crazy when it was night over there…I convinced myself you two were…” he stopped.

“Luca, I promise you nothing ever happened, baby, he’s my friend…but you’re everything to me.”

He lifted his head up to look at you “Good” he said before kissing you on the lips, spare hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You’re the love of my life, you know,” he kissed you again “all this…wouldn’t be the same without you,”

“You’d still have made it…” you kissed him

“Maybe.” Luca kissed you again “but it wouldn’t be the same without you. You’ve seen me at my worst, at my best…and yet you’re still here” he whispered into your neck.

“Always gonna be here babe, it’s you and me,” you traced hands down over his chest.

“You’re the love of my life, darling. You always have been” Luca looked at you with a gaze so full of love it made your heart ache.

“And you mine” you pushed your hands into his hair and placed open mouth kisses against his mouth. “You’re so perfect Luca. So, so perfect”

*

The next morning toys wrote him a new message ‘Jeg elsker dig’ the day after which he stuck just above his work station. One you wish you’d written for him all those years ago. “I love you”

A part of you always knew you did. From when you were teenage best friends, to now, you loved him. Being with Luca now after all this time, was like finally seeing clearly.

You’d make up for all the lost time.

———————————————————————————

Choose: CARMY

You tapped to send a heart over the message Carmy had sent you, knowing he’d be eating himself up if you didn’t reply

“Miss you, Carm…I’ll see you soon I promise” You texted back, hoping he was working and it would be enough to stop him going crazy until you landed.

Your friend walked you to security and squeezed your hand. “I knew you liked him…every time you spoke about him, you got all…” she jokes “I’ve never seen you like that.” She said as she hugged you goodbye “Go get your man!”

****

You hadn’t told him you were coming, wanting to surprise him. He’d given you the address of the restaurant and now as you stood outside the door, you exhaled, taking a breath before you entered.

A pretty blonde woman smiled at you as you did

“Hi! I’m looking for Carmen Berzatto.” You said returning her polite smile

“Are you [Name?] I’m Natalie. I’m Carmy’s sister”

That surprised you “He mentioned me?”

“I got it out of him eventually. You know what he’s like” She then walked to the door leading to the kitchen and stuck her head through “Carmy. You’ve got a visitor”

“If it’s the butter delivery, jus’ sign for it, Sugar, ok?” He sounded frazzled despite it being only the morning.

“It’s not the butter delivery! It’s your girl.” She said clearly not in the mood for messing around.

There was all of a sudden a flurry of voices.

“A girl? For Carmy?” You heard a mans surprise.

“Is it the girl on his phone.” A woman asked

“Jeff’s got a girl?” another woman spoke.

“Let me see.” There was shuffling around and then another man spoke “How the fucks he done that?”

“Cousin, gimme the fuckin’ phone.” You couldn’t help but smile as you heard him, hearing him in person made your heart swell. “How’d you get my password”

“Your passwords 1111, Carmen.”

“I’d say it’s not always this chaotic…” Natalie started turning back to you “but it is.”

Before you could respond you were cut off him, your Carmy, emerging from the doorway. He looked so gorgeous.

Wavy hair that he’d clearly been running his hands through, big blue eyes, strong arms under one of those white shirts and little gold chain peeking out.

“Sugar- what is the…” Carmy stopped seeing you.

“Hi.” His face softened within a second of seeing you although the fear of rejection still lingered in his mind. Why were you here?

He turned back to shout into the kitchen “Alright…gimme, gimme like five minutes okay?” Carmy ushered his sister into the kitchen so you could speak freely

“Why didnt you call me? I’d have picked you up at the airport.” he ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry…I wanted to surprise you” you gave him a small smile “Carmy” you spoke as if you know exactly what’s on his mind “I want this…I wanna be with you, like properly be with you.” You paused “And I think you want that too”

Carmy could barely believe it, you in his restaurant, in his home city, surprising him and telling him you wanted to be with him? “Course I do.” He answered quickly “Fuck was I obvious?”

“Being that it took me this long to realise it, I don’t think so.”

“S’alright, I just feel like I’ve gone crazy” Carmen choked out a laugh, still overcome with emotion that you were here. “I thought…”

‘I thought by ‘see you soon’ you meant that in weeks or months from now, you’d visit. I thought you’d go to Luca, your gorgeous, tall, charming childhood friend in one of the most beautiful cities in the world who has it all together. Not me, the fucking colossal fuck up. Surely he’d be your first choice’

His hand ran through his hair again and came to rest over his lips, expecting you to say what was I thinking I’ve changed my mind, see ya.

You took his hand and let him link his fingers with yours, knowing he had a habit of fidgeting with his hands when he was nervous.

“Carmy, I’m serious, this is me choosing you. Over anything, anyone else”

“How the fuck do you do that.” He blinked “Sometimes I feel like…like you’re in my head, or somethin’”

He liked it, he didn’t feel like his heart was going beat out of his chest around you. He could actually breathe and think with you around. Seeing you, here, in his home city, with him…he felt at ease for once, all the worries, all the stress he carried around, felt lighter. It was like you, just by being you, could turn down the sound in his head.

“Cause I know you.” You smiled softly “And I wanna make you happy. You gonna let me make you happy babe?”

He didn’t know how to finish the sentence but with the reassurance, the knowing that you’d wanted him, that you’d chosen him, he felt a surge of confidence and he cupped your face with both hands before he dropped one to your waist holding you against him and the other moved back through your hair pulling your lips to his, connecting the two of you in a passionate, messy kiss. You could feel his taut muscles, toned and firm under his shirt and holding you tight to him easily.

He’d make his excuses and finish early. Richie absolutely revelled in making fun of him for leaving to go get some, telling him maybe it’ll make him less pissy and Sugar was just happy to see Carmy happy again, she’d worried about him but the moment he’d laid eyes on you was the first time she’d seen him smile in weeks.

****

“So fuckin’ amazing.” He said breathlessly, whispering kisses against your neck later that evening “didn’t hurt you did I?” He met your eyes instantly concerned.

“No baby, I loved it” you laughed a little, you were still straddling him, legs either side of him, catching your breath as you played with his wavy hair and planted little kisses on him. “You’re the amazing one, so good baby”

Carmy had barely been able to keep his hands off you since you arrived back at his.

He’d been straight over to you, kissing you, sliding his hands up under your shirt, like he thought you’d disappear or like he wanted to touch you as much as he could incase you changed your mind.

You’d returned his kisses with equal intensity, until you’d ended up in a tangle on the couch. both your shirts discarded and jeans half unbuttoned, with your hands half down each others, touching each other, taking turns drawing moans from the other.

“Just want you” you whispered against his ear. “Only you, Carmy”

You shifted up so had your legs either side of him straddling his waist, when you could feel him under your own heat, hard against you and ground your hips into him, telling him how much you needed him.

He couldn’t wait any longer and shuffled off his jeans and yours, pulling you down to straddle him. After a few more, rotations of your hips, you slid down on to him, biting his shoulder as he stretched you. You went slow at first, teasing him and savouring the sounds he made, with every rotation of your hips. After a few blissful moments, Carmy’s hands found your hips and after a careful look for approval from him, he began moving you up and down at a fast pace, drawing cries of pleasure from you until he came deep inside you after you’d reached your high.

****

“Don’t move yet.” He whispered quietly as if admitting the need for closeness with you would make you disappear, as his hands went to your hips, holding them flush against his own. Despite the firmness of the words, there was still some vulnerability there.

“I’m not going anywhere, you wanna stay like this we can stay like this,” you rubbed your hands over his broad shoulders, still unable to get over how toned his body is.

He rested his head on your shoulder, kissing at your collarbone. “I’m so fuckin’…” he paused and wondered if it was inappropriate to tell someone youre in love them in the immediate aftermath of sex. He wouldn’t know, you’re the first person he’s said it to but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m fuckin’ in love with you.” He said into your neck.

“Carmen.” You said, the use of his full name making his gaze shoot up to your eyes. For a second he wondered if he’d done something wrong. He was staring at you, those big blue eyes you loved so much, looking at you with pure love.

“Hey…it’s okay…” you kissed him softly, slowly, touching his face in the most tender way, thumb gracing over his cheekbone “I love you too.”

As he exhaled, dropping his forehead to yours, he was for the first time in a long time, not just content but happy.

[moni-logues]

Hiiiii Moniiiiii!!!! :) How are you?

I say a few request the other day and i would like to ask for one if its ok so may I please request a JiminxReader where they are co-workers, maybe a frienemies to lovers? and could you please highlight the fact reader has a mole somewhere special (shoulder, tigh, upper lip idk) that Jimin takes liking and loves kissing? thank youuuu xx

LOOK AT ME!!!! I'm FILLING A REQUEST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DID SOME WRITING!!! LOOK, MA, NO HANDS!

Pairing: Jimin x reader (afab)

Genre: co-workers to lovers, slight enemies to friends to lovers

Summary: You were certain, when Jimin started at your company, that you were going to hate him. You had been wrong. Equally sure you were now that you were just friends. Just friends...

Word count: 5.1k

Content: oral (f. receiving), protected sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, one very bad stupid joke because i couldn't not, they're both drunk/sobering up; pretend this is actually set somewhere and that place is probably in the UK (hence Jimin Park not Park Jimin)

This Meeting Should've Been an Email

JP: this meeting should’ve been an email 

YN: it should have been an email between the two of them 

YN: i don’t even know what we’re doing here 

JP: i'm online shopping 

YN: 😂 

YN: maybe i'll do the same 

YN: spend all the money they don’t pay me 

JP: atta girl! 

You were trying to keep your face neutral, pretending you were listening to the discussion at hand, paying attention so that, if they directed a question to you, you’d be able to answer. Working from home was preferable to working in the office in a thousand different ways, but you did hate sitting on camera in a meeting that didn’t require you. Acting had never been your strong suit. You bit your lip, then rolled both into your mouth to stop yourself smiling.  

JP: what do you think of this? 

Jimin sent a link to a shirt so expensive, your mouth gaped without permission. Black and sheer, blousy with fewer buttons than sleeves. It was certainly something, but you weren’t sure it qualified as clothing—not for that price. 

“Oh, I’ve just seen your face—is there something wrong?” your manager asked and you started. 

“No, not at all! Sorry!” 

You had no lie or excuse to give, so you hoped he wouldn’t probe. He didn’t. 

YN: why would you spend so much money on so little fabric? 

JP: it’s fucking beautiful, that’s why 

YN: more beautiful than rent? 

YN: or food? 

JP: yes 

* 

You drummed your fingers on the desk, willing yourself to do some work, to at least look like you were doing some work. 

You had got into the office early, as you liked to do, so had secured your favoured desk, in the back corner, where you could surf the internet (decidedly not working) as much as you liked without anyone able to see your screen.  

You had all the right programs open: databases, emails, teams, spreadsheets, and checklists. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do anything with them.  

Jimin had told you, first thing this morning, that he wasn’t going to come in today. You didn’t see the point of being there without him. Who would you go on unnecessary walks with, just to get out of working for ten minutes? Who would convince you that walking the further distance to the good coffee shop was definitely worth it, as were the pastries they sold that the closer one didn’t? Who would distract you for 75% of the day, if not Jimin? 

No one.  

You told yourself to do one task and then you could have a break. You turned back to your monitors and scanned your to-do list. You needed something quick and easy. Then an email came through from your manager. The subject alone made your stomach drop: Team changes!! The second exclamation mark wasn’t right at all. 

“Hi all, 

I’ve got some good news and bad news. 

Bad news: Jimin is leaving us! 

Good news: he’s got a great new position as a manager just down the road! 

We’ll have to have some discussions around resourcing in Ops and I’ll of course feed that back to you and we’ll arrange how we’ll cover Jimin’s tasks in the interim. I know he’ll have a lot to train you guys on before his last day, but we’re such a great team, I know we’ll manage! It’ll be a great loss, for sure, and we’ll all be sad to see him go, but I hope you can be happy for him, too.  

See you in the meeting at 2. 

Hugh” 

Anger simmered in your gut before you could be sad. The passive aggression of ‘I know he’ll have a lot to train you guys on’ and the fact that Jimin hadn’t told you. That you knew it would be months before anyone was hired in Jimin’s place and that you would be expected to pick up all the slack, for no credit and no extra pay. That he hadn’t told you. 

YN: you’re LEAVING?!?!?!!???!!?!?!?! 

JP: yep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

YN: cannot believe you made me find out from HUGH 

JP: 😇😇😇 

YN: you’re not allowed to leave me here 

JP: you should quit too!!!! 

You left that one on read and decided to knuckle down to work. You had a lot to do, you decided, and it couldn’t be put off any longer. 

You felt weirder than you had expected to. Unsettled for the rest of the day. Not really able to focus, but your mind wasn’t busy—there was nothing in it. You couldn’t fill it with numbers or comms or monitoring. Couldn’t fill it with office gossip (there wasn’t any). You took yourself on a walk, for fresh air, hoping the breeze would blow away the cobwebs, but that didn’t work either.  

* * * 

“Hi, Jimin!” Chloe called from across the office when Jimin entered, only in his second week of work. 

“Hi!” he called back, walking away from your bank of desks and towards the ones at the other end of the room. 

You rolled your eyes. Pretty boys were the popular ones. Go figure. You had known he would ingratiate himself with that little group the moment you had met: there was something almost simpering about the way he behaved when introduced around the office. As if it was some sort of one-man parade in which he was the star. Arrogant, you decided. Arrogant with no reason to be. 

He had a dance background (even less relevant than your history degree) so it wasn’t as if he had any experience in this field. It was his first office job since graduating; he had graduated at the same time as you and had spent a year working in retail before landing this job. So he didn’t even necessarily have technical or communication skills. He just had a pretty face. And a dancer’s body. 

You couldn’t work out how he became everybody’s best friend within five minutes. Even less when you started hearing people calling across the office for him to help with this problem and that.  

“Jimin, can you show me how to do a purchase order again?” 

“Jimin, what supplier did you use for your banner?” 

“Jimin-” 

“Jimin-” 

“Jimin!” 

You knew you knew just as much as he did, if not more. You’d been here longer. You just weren’t as... all that. Didn’t have the sparkle or the smirk. Fine, you weren’t glamorous but this job wasn’t supposed to be about style. You got the work done and you did it without fanfare because you weren’t desperate for attention and praise. 

Unlike some people.  

* 

“Guess who got the promotion,” you said on the phone to your best friend. 

“Oh my god, is it you?! Did you get it?!?!?!?!!?” 

“Nope.” 

You ended the word with a hard pop and said no more. Wendy was quiet on the other end for a second. 

“You didn’t?” 

“Nope.” 

“Then who did?” 

“I’ll give you one fucking guess.” 

“Not Jimin.” 

“Of course it was Jimin!” 

You had been all but assured the next open spot that came up. It was virtually guaranteed! Until Jimin swanned in and swiped it from within your claws. 

“No fucking way.” 

“Way.” 

* 

You got the promotion after that but it wasn’t a sweet victory. Forever, you would have to live with the fact that Jimin was promoted ahead of you. Even though he had less experience and had worked there less time. Even though all the managers encouraged you to apply. It left a permanently bitter taste in your mouth.  

Then they had a shuffle of staff.  

And you ended up on a project team with him. 

* 

JP: I’ve finished all the documents for this submission; please let me know what you think! 

You’d have liked to tell him to go fuck himself. You’d have liked to open those documents and tear them to shreds, cover them in red tracked changes, and make him look like a fucking moron. 

But you couldn’t do that because they were good. Perfect, in fact. You wouldn’t have changed a thing.  

YN: look good to me. 

You always gave him a passive-aggressive full-stop. You couldn’t be out and out rude to him, both because it was unprofessional but also because he didn’t deserve it. He was good at this job, it turned out. Didn’t have a head for data, but didn’t need one because his talents elsewhere were just as valuable.  

You had begrudgingly traded some tasks with him when your team was first set-up (you gave him the worst ones, the ones you liked the least because you might have been forced to share but they hadn’t specified what) and you were too proud to admit that he was actually better at them. He had a much better eye for visuals; his external comms samples were always flashier and prettier and neater and more engaging than yours had been.  

He had suggested a slightly different tracking method for your monitoring and you had had to pretend to have wifi troubles and leave the meeting to seethe for a minute. 

He brought in snacks to the office when you had meetings scheduled and had the gall to remember that you didn’t really like chocolate. 

He covered for you when you were ill without complaint and without any mistakes. 

He started sitting next to you in the office so that you could talk about the project more easily.  

He started sending you gifs and memes.  

He started making cute, little jokes over private message when you were in meetings together.  

You started, somehow, somewhen, you didn’t know why, growing fond of Jimin Park. 

* 

And now look where you were.  

You were hurt that he didn’t tell you first. You were surprised. You were more than just work friends now, weren’t you? You had each other’s personal numbers! You spent time together outside of work (sometimes)! Didn’t that deserve a little confidence? He couldn’t have even mentioned that he was looking for work elsewhere?  

* 

“I haven’t forgiven you, you know,” you told him as he arrived at the office, taking the desk next to yours as he now always did.  

“For what?” 

“For leaving! And for not telling me!” 

He laughed and, ordinarily, you’d have laughed at yourself along with him, but you didn’t feel like it today. You didn’t want to be laughed at. You wanted him to take your feelings seriously. You wanted him to apologise. You wanted him to not leave.  

* 

You spoke about it reasonably often, his leaving, his new job. How excited he was. How nervous. How weird it would be to not see each other every day.  

You didn’t speak about how sad you really were that he was going. You didn’t speak about the sting of betrayal you still felt but didn’t want to investigate. You didn’t speak about how his quitting really, truly made you want to quit, too, even though you liked this job, even though you were (had been) happy there.  

* * * 

It came around all too quickly. Jimin’s last day. The office was packed because everyone wanted to see him off. Of course they did. Everyone loved Jimin.  

Including you.  

* 

“For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good feeeeelloowwwwwwww! Which nobody can deny!” 

No one had expected the unit director to be the life of the party and it was providing an excellent diversion from the sinking pit in your stomach. With every drink, the end drew nearer.  

It wasn’t as if you wouldn’t see Jimin ever again, but you wouldn’t see him as often. He would make new work friends. You would be replaced. There felt something so final about it all, this evening stretching as long and taut as you could make it.  

So taut it might snap. 

* 

You were the last two in the pub. You used to sneak out early together after work drinks; head back to your place or his and eat chips in front of something you both talked over; took yourself to your exclusive club-house for two where you could gossip about the evening and who got too drunk and who was making eyes at whom.  

But you didn’t want to leave tonight and Jimin was hosting so he couldn’t leave until the last guest did. 

Or until the pub kicked you out after last call. 

A bell rang. 

“Last call!” 

Fuck.  

“Think that’s time, baby!” Jimin cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “My last day at work is officially over!” 

You whined, too drunk to stop yourself. You knew you’d had one too many. Two too many. Perhaps the whole bottle of wine too many. But you had to keep drinking if you were staying at the pub, and you wanted to keep drinking so you’d stop feeling so weird and sad about this. You looked up at Jimin and he smiled back down at you.  

God, he was pretty.  

“Don’t go,” you said, lips pouting so hard they barely let the words out.  

Jimin laughed again.  

“Back to my place, then? Your favourite chippy is on the way!” 

“Absolutely!” 

The relief that washed over you was almost strong enough to knock you over. There was still a little more time.  

* 

You squabbled at the chip shop. You could hardly remember why even as you were stepping out of it. It had turned the night just a touch sour. You didn’t want that. But you’d take that over the ending of it.  

* 

“What do you want to watch?” Jimin asked as you flopped, heavily onto his sofa, box of chips in hand. 

You shrugged. 

“Any genre you particularly fancy?” 

“I literally don’t care,” you replied sharply. 

You felt more than saw the look on Jimin’s face and chose to ignore it. He came to sit next to you on the sofa and you felt a little suffocated. He was too close. You could smell him. His shampoo? His laundry detergent? You’d never quite been able to pin down just exactly what it was that made him smell so nice; the opportunities you’d had to get that close to him just hadn’t been enough.  

“Why do you smell so good?” you asked, though it sounded like an accusation.  

Jimin laughed. 

“I smell like a brewery and fryer oil!” 

“No, you don’t! You always smell good!” 

You were starting to hear it, how drunk you sounded, which, on the plus side, meant you were just starting to sober up.  

“Thank you,” he replied, a little more tight-lipped than he might normally have been.  

The conversation, if you could call it that, ended there. You watched the drama he had put on in silence, munching chips, and sipping water, and not talking. You were drunk and tired and had already said too many things you hadn’t meant to. You didn’t know about Jimin.  

You watched one episode and then another and then another and just as Jimin’s TV was asking if you were still even there, Jimin turned it off. 

“I’m calling it,” he said with a wide yawn. “I’m fucking tired.” 

That was your cue to leave. You were also tired. Heavy with alcohol and lack of sleep. Blood viscous like molasses. You didn’t want to go. 

“I don’t want to go.” 

Jimin blinked. His lips twitched and you knew he was laughing at you. This was not the script the two of you usually followed. Then he shrugged, allowing the smirk to cover his mouth.

“Ok, then, stay.” 

“I don’t want you to go. Don’t leave.” 

He chuckled. 

“Why would I leave? I live here!” 

“Work!” you cried, stumbling as you put a tingling, dead foot on the ground, coming to a stand. “Don’t leave work!” 

He groaned your name in a way you hadn’t heard before and it made your stomach flop. 

“Don’t keep saying that. It’s too late; I’m going!” 

“Don’t.” 

“You going to miss me that badly?” 

You just looked at him. Couldn’t bring yourself to confirm it. Yes. Yes, you were. Yes, you would. Yes, you missed him already. Missed him so much you wanted to pull him closer. Wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair. Wanted to- 

Fuck. 

You started, taking a small step back. 

You wanted him. 

To kiss him. To touch him. To see him. To know him. Not to be his work friend. Not to be his friend. To be his. His. 

It hit you like a ton of bricks and you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or throw up. Maybe both. You weren’t sure how much of it was down to the alcohol and how much to the emotional slap in the face you’d just given yourself.  

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Jimin said, his eyes wide and cute, his smile a little rueful. “So much.” 

You felt something. Something charged. The hairs on your neck pricked. 

“How much?” you asked, voice escaping you in a whisper.  

“So much that it makes me not want to go.” 

You felt your eyes drawn to his, had no choice but to look him in his sweet face, his dark, swirling eyes glinting in the low lamplight. You couldn’t tear them away. Couldn’t move. Felt suspended in this second that stretched and stretched and stretched until it couldn’t stretch anymore. 

“Ji-” 

His name wasn’t out of your mouth before his lips were on it. Soft. Plush. Sweet with wine. His tongue swiped at your lower lip and you were eager to let him in, to taste him, to satisfy the hunger that had reared its ugly head, jaw gaping, teeth dripping, that must have been lying in wait, biding its time, hiding itself even from you.  

There was no denying it now.  

You didn’t talk as Jimin pulled you closer. Didn’t speak as he pulled your tucked-in T-shirt from the waistband of your jeans to slip his hands underneath. Didn’t make a sound when his fingers deftly picked at the clasp of your bra, instantly springing free, to allow his hands beneath that, too.  

Could only just stop yourself moaning when his lips met the sensitive skin on your neck at the same moment as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t make a sound. The silence was so loud and you didn’t want to disturb it, even though what he was doing to you felt so good. Felt so unreal. You didn’t want the noise to puncture it, this bubble, this fantasy, this something that was happening that had been so unexpected even though it, now, felt like it had been a long time coming.  

Then Jimin moaned. Removed his lips from your skin and opened his mouth, letting sound spill from it freely, almost wantonly, as he pulled you even closer. Close enough to feel him against you which set your knees trembling.  

He looked at you, a little hesitation in his eyes, the hem of your top in his hands. You still couldn’t speak, just nodded, put your hands over his and pulled upwards. Watched in stunned silence when he unbuttoned his own shirt, let it fall to the floor.  

It occurred to you then that you had never seen this Jimin before. Not just the kissing and the erection and the arousal pooling in your underwear. You hadn’t even seen him topless. Had never seen the fine trail of hair that dipped beneath his waistband. Had never known he had a tattoo across his ribs.  

Never mind. 

You’d have scoffed if you’d had half a mind about you. Never mind.  

You were minding all this very, very much.  

You reached out to touch him, pressing the pads of your fingers to his chest lightly, testing to make sure he was real. He was. Soft and smooth and rippling with goosebumps under your fingers.  

“Fuck,” you whispered, finally finding your voice.  

“Yes, let’s,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

You laughed, then laughed some more, shocked at your own surprise.  

Fuck! 

Fuck!! 

Jimin’s mouth was on yours again, more urgent this time. His hands, too, flying over your body, gripping here, pinching there, slipping inside your jeans, flicking the button open and dragging down the zip. You retaliated, pushing his undone trousers to the floor, pushing your hand into his boxers, encircling his hot, hard cock with your fingers. The wobbly whine that trembled out of him made your core clench. 

“Jimin,” you said, breathlessly, calling his attention to your face. 

He held your gaze there for a second, a second or two or three—his hand groping at your backside, yours around his shaft—and then you didn’t need to say anymore. He was grabbing at your jeans and your underwear, pushing them down your legs, pushing you onto the sofa, kissing at your face and your jaw and your neck, all the way down, to your breasts to your navel to the crease of your hips and further.  

You couldn’t have been silent, even if you’d still wanted to be. The wet muscle of his tongue laved over you, all over you, exploring, familiarising, teasing until you were grabbing at his hair, nails scraping his scalp. 

“Jimin!” 

You wanted to shout, to demand, but you only gasped, only whined, your breath taken from you as his lips closed around your clit. Still, it seemed he’d got the message.  

You writhed beneath him as he sucked, as his fingers slipped easily inside you, curling against you insistently while his tongue flicked over your swollen bud, as his lips sucked, as you bucked and twisted and spasmed beneath him. You could have said it was too much, this was too much, but it was Jimin, and suddenly ‘too much’ seemed impossible. You’d have died under him. You’d have let him go forever. As long as he liked. Though you were twitching and squirming and your legs clamped around his head, he didn’t stop. Didn’t stop until you were screaming from one orgasm to another, gushing over his hand, being lapped up into his mouth. Until you were seeing stars. Until your breath barely came in, went panting out in sharp staccato gasps. Until he pulled back, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, mouth wet and shiny, and sat back on his heels.  

“Fuck,” he said and his voice was tight, hoarse, sounded strained.  

Strained like his boxers, still covering him if only barely. He palmed at them, eyelids fluttering, head tipping back.  

“Fuck,” he said again as he brought his face back down to you, as he scattered kisses across your torso. “I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long.” 

The words didn’t register, didn’t hit, because his lips were still moving against you, his hands brushing up your sides and over your breasts, cupping them up to his mouth so he could lick over your pebbled nipples, suck them into his mouth one at a time. You were dazed. 

But not done. 

“Jimin, please.”  

“Please what?” he returned, teeth grazing lightly over the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet against your shivering skin.  

“Please fuck me. Please.” 

He grinned, the glitter in his eyes turning wicked.  

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long, too.” 

He abandoned you, briefly, supine on the sofa, as he at last shucked off his underwear and fumbled in his wallet for the condom that was closest to hand.  

He knelt back over you and you felt him at your entrance, one hand holding him there and the other pulling at your thigh, positioning you where he wanted you, how he wanted you. 

He could have you however. As long as he had you.  

“Ready?” he asked, as if he had to. As if you weren’t already tipping your hips trying to capture him, as if your walls weren’t fluttering already, as if you hadn’t made a great mess of his sofa cushions.  

“Yes.” 

You groaned in unison as he slowly pushed into you. You hadn’t expected him to feel this big, stretching you as you squeezed him, as he continued to push until he was fully seated, settled inside you, all the way in.  

He lowered himself onto his elbows, nudged your nose with his, kissed you. Slow and deep, his body unmoving. You wondered what was stopping him, tilted your hips a little, wrapped your legs around him, clenched tight until he shuddered with a gasped laugh. 

“If you don’t want me to come like, immediately, you’re going to have to stop that.” 

You laughed back, in disbelief, still not really experiencing this as the Real Deal, still convinced this might be a dream. That Jimin was fucking you—was not fucking you right now because he needed a second to gather himself, a second to keep it together so he could fuck you.  

You relaxed yourself as much as you could, stroked his hair, flicked his earlobe with your tongue and bit down lightly on the soft flesh. Let your mouth explore where it could reach.  

“Jimin,” you whined, when he still hadn’t moved. “Please.”  

He didn’t reply; his face was tucked into your neck and you could feel his heavy breathing there. You were two seconds from begging again when he finally moved. He dragged backwards, slowly, and shot forward, fast and hard. Then he did it again. And again. His hips moved fluidly; his arms caged you in securely; his lips sucked soft against your skin.  

He had worried it would be quick, but you were sure time was slowing down. It was stretching itself over this moment so that it lasted forever, so that each time Jimin slammed his hips against yours, it took an age; every kiss lasted an hour; every gasp became a long, drawn-out sigh. This wasn’t quick; it was eternal. It was elemental. 

It brought you into your body in a way that made you feel more than human. That made you feel animal. That made you feel pure and unshackled and unburdened. That made you feel free. Free because all you had to pursue was pleasure. All you had to concern yourself with was your body and his and the way they came together. There was no time, no loss, no rush, no ending, nothing to spoil the sanctity of this coupling.  

It wasn’t always like this. You’d been around the block enough to know that this could have ended differently. On another night, you might have been lying on someone else’s sofa, waiting for it to end because you were simply bored now, because they had been all talk and no trousers, because they weren’t doing it right and you couldn’t be bothered to correct them.  

Jimin didn’t need correcting. He was, as ever, a fucking overachiever. His girth pushed against your g-spot with every thrust and his length made each drag deep and lasting. You wondered if there was anything he couldn’t do. 

Then he pushed himself up onto one hand and used his free hand to push low on your abdomen as he continued to piston against you. The gasp it stole from you was choked and you felt your legs twitch, tighten, pull close as the rest of your body collapsed inward, too. He reached his thumb down, pressed it against your clit and let the snap of his hips move you, just slightly, just enough that it was teasing again, that you could feel him in a way that suddenly was not quite enough. Was maddening. 

“Jimin,” you keened, sweat dripping down your spine as your back arched from the sofa. 

“Say it again.” 

“Jimin.” 

“Again.” 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

He growled, deep in his throat, and your hips jerked as he pressed his thumb harder against you, swirled it in circles, rough and quick until you were coming again, gasping, squirming, clawing at his arms, your back threatening to snap in two. He kept his teeth clenched as he fucked you through it, as he pushed through the tight spasms of your cunt, as he fought to last until the end, until your body flopped, spent and lead-heavy into the cushions. 

Only then did he let go, did he give a final few thrusts, did he moan loud and long as he came.  

He flopped beside you on the sofa and you lay there, breathing heavily in a silence that felt light. You felt his lips press at your clavicle, his fingers then tracing the same spot. Then his lips again. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You’ve got a little mole here,” he murmured, still directing most of his attention towards it. “I haven’t noticed before... I like it.”  

You hummed, satisfied, heart secretly thrilling. You let him kiss you, back and across the straight line of collar bone, flicking his tongue over your mole. What dedicated attention you hadn’t had for such a long time.  

You could feel your eyelids droop, felt as though maybe you should clear some things up before you passed out; you weren’t sure you’d make it that far. Then Jimin spoke, cutting through that drunken, post-coital haze. 

“Never shit where you eat.” 

“What?” 

He looked at you. 

“Never shit where you eat. I don’t fuck coworkers.” 

Reality came crashing in on you like a tsunami. 

You were coworkers. No, you had been coworkers. You weren’t anymore, because Jimin was leaving. Had left. Had worked his last day, celebrated in the pub, and then fucked you into the sofa. Had fucked his former coworker. You.  

“So you’re saying, all this time...?” 

He shrugged. 

“Not necessarily all this time. But yeah... You?” 

You shrugged back. 

“Literally wasn’t aware of it until tonight. Until you were trying to get me to leave.” 

He laughed breathlessly. 

“I wasn’t trying to get you to leave. I was trying to get you into bed.” 

“Oh.” 

A beat. 

“Well, you didn’t do a very good job, did you?” 

He laughed again, full-throated this time. 

“We fucked, didn’t we?” 

“On the sofa.” 

He swatted your arm playfully. 

“Technicality. I still say it counts.” 

“That’s the sort of carelessness and lack of attention to detail that’ll get you fired, y’know?” 

“Oh, you’re firing me?” 

“Perhaps I am.” 

“Wow, fired on my first day. My parents will be so disappointed in me.” 

“First day?” 

You looked up at Jimin, heart racing wildly. None of this had been expected; none of this was sinking in. Did a first day necessarily imply a second? A third? More?  

“First of many... If you want.” 

You did want. You nodded.  

“Great,” he said softly, gently pressing his lips to yours. “We’ll have a meeting in the morning to discuss my probation.” 

“A meeting? Nah, this could be an email.” 

[latenightdaydreams]

i have a request other story.

Love all you story and how you make konig !!

listen how about making a reader skinny (I'm a person really skinny even though that i eat a don't gain so much weigh, and it genetic ) that have some problem with her sugar blood (hypoglycemia is a condition that u need to eat each 3h or depends of the sugar that the pancreas produce in they're body, i have that condition.) Konig is a chef of pastries in the town very famous making reader go and try his famous pastries.

Konig being a sweetheart to her like a panda/puppy but in bed he is other person with reader.

Can be a bit kinky but start fluff then smutty 🌶

💗💗 of course!

Baker!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, food play, oral, skinny reader

1.7k word count

🍰

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.

The first time you walked into his bakery, König’s eyes were drawn to your slender frame as you navigated the crowd. You looked at the case of freshly baked goods with a small smirk on your lips, causing him to smile in response. He walks towards you, his 6’10 body towering over yours as he bends down for you to hear him over the crowd.

“The lemon tart is very popular this time of year.”

The sound of his thick Austrian accent snapping you out of your own thoughts as you turn to look up at him. His pale ice-blue eyes instantly draw you in. Your small smirk turns into a full-blown smile. For a moment, you feel at a loss for words. You realize that this is König speaking to you, the men you read about online.

“Oh—they all look amazing.” You slightly stumble over your words, causing König to laugh.

“Is this your first time here? I’ve never seen you around before.” König straightens his posture and walks behind the counter, assembling a light blue pastry box.

“Yeah, it is.” Your eyes follow him as he grabs one pastry after the other and loads the box up.

“I was going to say I’d recognize your beautiful face.” König says smoothly, not even trying to be subtle with his interest in you.

König walks back around the counter and places the box in your delicate hands. His eyes crinkle slightly at the corners as he smiles down at you. “Since it’s your first time, I gave you a little bit of everything. Please enjoy it and come back.”

“Oh—” You pull your purse up with one hand and reach for your wallet, but he stops you.

“No charge. It’s my pleasure.”

“Thank you so much, König.”

“Of course…” He leaves the sentence open, gesturing his hand to you asking for your name.

“I’m y/n.”

“Well, y/n, it’s my pleasure. Please enjoy. I look forward to seeing you again.”

With that, you turn and leave the bakery. Back home, you sit on your couch and taste each pastry. Each one seemingly better than the last. König’s accent and eyes linger on your mind. You constantly jump back and forth between thinking he likes you and he was just doing his job. Either way, you’ll definitely be going back.

And you did. Every day for the last week you’ve gone back. Each time König stops what he’s doing to talk to you; you’ve not even spent money as he keeps giving you free food. You disclosed your hyperglycemia to him, causing the need to coddle you to rush over him. Every treat he gives you, he feels as if he’s expressing his want to love and care for you. Today, when you walk in, the tension between the two of you feels different.

“Hallo, Liebling.” König walks to you, pulling you aside to sit at one of the tables.

“Hey!” You sit, excited and nervous as to why he is pulling you aside.

König sits across from you; his large and warm hands engulf your small cold hands. His thumbs rub back and forth gently, enjoying the soft feeling of your skin. There is a silence that lingers between the both of you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He looks over your face, taking in every small detail. The two of you aren’t together, but in his eyes you’re already his.

“Have you eaten lately?”

“I did a few hours ago.”

“You need to eat then, Liebling.” He brings you hands up to his lips, kissing your knuckles one at a time. “What would you like?”

“Surprise me.” You say with a slight giggle in your voice.

“Ah, of course.”

A few moments later, König comes back with a few pastries and a cup of hot chocolate for you. He sits them down in front of you before kissing the top of your head. Instead of joining you, he has to leave to assist the barista up front while a new wave of customers come in. You watch him as your take sips of your drink and small bites of your food. König’s eyes keep falling on you, enjoying watching you eat.

You wait to the table for König, not wanting to leave without saying goodbye to him first. He rushes over to you with an apologetic look on his face. There is something in his eyes, as if he is deep in thought before speaking up.

“Are you free tomorrow night?”

“I am.”

“Would you be interested in coming here tomorrow night? Just you and me.”

“I would love that.”

You walk up to the steps of the bakery an hour after closing wearing a fitted black dress. You knock and wait for him to open. When he does, his blonde hair is combed back; his thin lips pulled into a wide smile.

“Please come in.” He steps aside for you to enter, his eyes never leaving your figure.

The usually crowded bakery is now tranquil with dim lighting and a single table left in the middle of the sitting area. He places a hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you to sit down. Once seated, he pushes the chair in for you. König sits down in the seat next to you, unable to control his lustful gaze while you’re in that dress; your body is so tiny.

“You look stunning, Liebling.” König’s voice drips with desire. “I made something special for you.”

Just then the barista that works with König came out with a tray holding different baked goods; not from the menu. Small cakes made of your favorite flavors, chocolate covered fruit, and an array of pastries. You can’t help but to stare wide eyed at all of the food. It makes him feel proud to know he is not only helping you, but able to treat you with such delicious foods.

“You’re good to go now.” König tells the woman; she nods and exits the bakery, leaving the two of you alone.

König adjusts the way he is sitting so that he is positioned with you between his legs as he pulls your chair closer to him. No words are spoken as he picks up a chocolate covered strawberry and brings it to your pillowy lips. Your lips part teasingly slowly, leaning forward to wrap your lips around the strawberry.

His breath gets caught in his throat as he watches the most erotic bite he’s ever seen. The slight crunch of the chocolate muffled by those luscious lips as red juice begins to run down your chin. A small embarrassed giggle fleeing your stuffed mouth as König pulls the fruit away from you. He reaches out with his other hand to gently wipe the juice from your chin with his thumb. Instead of wiping it off, he sucks his finger clean.

“Messy girl.”

You can feel your stomach flip and your pussy tingle as this transpires; slowly chewing your food and swallowing. König then picks up a slice of cake and brings it to your lips. His eyes focused on your mouth, awaiting the bite.

“Big bite.” His other hand comes and caresses the back of your head as if he’s guiding his cock into your mouth.

Doing as he asks of you; you open your mouth wide to take a large bite. The sweet frosting gets on the side of your lips as you take the bite. A soft hum comes from you as you enjoy the taste. König’s cock is rock hard in his pants as he leans forward and tilts your head backwards. He puts his mouth on yours where the frosting is, gently licking the frosting.

König pulls back slightly and looks down into your beautiful eyes. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he waits for you to reject him, but you don’t. The look in your eyes is just as hungry as his.

“So schön…”

König’s lips clash against yours once again, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He lets out soft moans as your tongues swirl around one another, your mouth tasting sweet from the food. One of his hands reaches down and grabs yours, guiding it to his erection that’s straining against the dark fabric of his jeans.

Your fingers wrap around his hard cock as your palm presses against it gently stroking. His cock throbs in your dainty palm, his hips rocking forward to cause more friction. When he pulls away from the kiss his eyes bore into yours.

With one hand, he undoes his pants and releases his boner from its restraints. Your hand wraps around his warm flesh, pulling his foreskin back and revealing his pink tip. He watches your face as you gaze at his impressive size.

“Suck it, Liebling.”

König guides your head to his cock, watching with much anticipation as those soft lips part and warp around him. The orgasmic feeling of your warm, wet mouth embracing his sensitive tip was too much for him. A low hiss escapes him while he drops his head back allowing the pleasure to take over his body.

“More baby, I know you can fit more into that mouth.”

You can feel your pussy getting wet as he speaks to you. His hand pressing down on the back of your head makes you take in more of his long cock. After a few inches you gag slightly. In a calm hushed tone König soothes you and encourages you to take more. Your beautiful watery eyes gaze up at him.

The crown of soft blonde hair surrounding the base of his cock presses against your nose, his heavy balls against your chin. You feel him forcing himself down your throat as he holds it. His fingers tighten on your hair as he lets out a loud moan.

“Look at you, meine Süße. Taking all of me just like I knew you could.” His hips move slowly, thrusting out of your throat and then back down. “Mein Gott, you’re perfect.”

He grabs your jaw with his other hand and sits back down, pulling you off of your seat and forcing you to your knees without withdrawing himself. You gracefully fall before him, your hands falling to his thighs. His hands still controlling your head, he bob's your mouth up and down on his cock. Thick globs of spit drip down his length as he watches with satisfaction.

“I love seeing you fill that beautiful mouth, Liebling.”

[gingerteawrites]

Drabble: Summer dates

Where Nanami is the most attentive to you.

A/N: I’m so glad to bring you this new drabble. I’ve been thinking a lot of more characters to write about on the blog, but as always, Nanami comes out on top. I have not edited this very thoroughly, so, apologies if it’s a bit clunky.

Please feel free to suggest ideas you would like me to write about, as well as characters from various anime and games you would want to see. I truly love reading your thoughts more than anything.

Content: fluff, established relationship, Nanami X reader. Reader is described in a more feminine manner but no pronouns used.

You and Nanami did not go out together nearly as much as other couples. Between your jobs/studies, jujutsu, and the general fatigue that adulthood seemed to be tied with, most weekends were spent at home, where you shared soft touches and home-cooked meals.

This weekend, however, Nanami had decided that you deserved to get out of the house for things other than just work obligations. As you ate breakfast beside each other, he explained how he planned a day outside for you two.

“This spot has very good pastries. And I know you’ve been wanting to explore the new shopping district in Roppongi,” he said, his voice a smooth rumble, enveloping you in its warmth as you felt your heart squeeze in affection.

“You didn’t have to,” you said, your lips forming a light pout as you reached out to squeeze his hand. He smiled at you and pulled your chair closer to his in one swift motion to deliver a feather-light kiss to your lips “Of course I had to. You deserve everything, my love.” He whispered against your lips, and if you had not been sitting already, you would have crumpled to the floor with the way it made your knees go weak.

With the summer heat hitting Tokyo in insistent waves, you settled on wearing a light sundress that fit snugly at the top and sprawled out until your knees, which had caused you to almost not make it out of the house with the way that Kento had squeezed your waist and kissed your exposed neck, mumbling about how beautiful you looked.

Nanami had ditched his usual suit and tie for a pair of loose white slacks and a brown polo shirt. He locked the door behind the both of you and as you stepped into the sweltering heat, you squinted your eyes at the bright sun. But before you could even comment on its intensity, Nanami pulled out a parasol from the bag he carried, splaying it open above your heads.

His eyes met yours with a knowing look, and you smiled back in silent thanks.

Walking through the streets hand in hand made you feel all giddy. Nanami had never been one for PDA, feeling that Gojo invaded his personal space enough. But being with you had caused him to want to feel a part of your body at all times. Knowing you were in his hold put him at ease, like he could protect you if anything came up.

You finally made it to Roppongi, exiting the train station with the rush of other people out for the weekend. Lunch consisted of cold noodles and refreshing shaved ice, and you bought pastries to eat as a dessert for dinner later in the evening.

“I saw a new bread recipe online, I think it’s called focaccia?” You said as you exited the bakery “I’ll try my hand at it tomorrow.”

“I am sure it would be perfect. We can use it to make sandwiches.” He smiled at your enthusiasm, carrying the conversation toward what to include in the following week’s work bentos.

Your eyes wandered a bit, gasping in excitement when you noticed a new stationery shop in the square, which Nanami gladly led you two to, entering the store with the tune of a small bell’s jingle. You were browsing their sticker collection when Nanami’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

His eyebrows knit at the intrusion, and his finger immediately went to reject the call, wanting to focus all his attention on you. But you, noticing the caller ID insisted on him picking up the video call. He turned away from you and pressed the green button.

“Nanamiiiiiiiiiiiin” Yuji’s voice greeted loudly, with a wide grin pulling at his lips, causing Nanami to wince slightly at the boy’s energy. “Fushiguro you owe me, see? He actually picked up!” He snickered, flipping the camera towards a scowling Megumi.

Nobara peered from behind Yuji, gripping onto his shoulder and pulling at it roughly so she could see the screen better “Oh! Are you in Roppongi!?” she exclaimed, immediately recognizing the surroundings. Yuji’s own eyes went wide, as he brought the phone closer to his face “Oooooh, Nanami-san is enjoying himself without us!” the boy added.

Nanami grunted lightly, raising an eyebrow at his students’ shenanigans “If you all don’t have anything to say, I’m hanging up,” he announced.

You snickered lightly at the scenario unfolding before you, but accidentally dropped a roll of washi tape you had been examining. It rolled towards Nanami’s feet and before you could bend down to pick it up, your man beat you to it, causing you to inadvertently come into view on the video call.

“Is that Y/N-san??” Nobara asked, catching a glimpse of your face “You look so pretty today!” she said, and Yuji greeted you enthusiastically. “I told y’all not to call. See, they’re probably on a date.” Megumi scolded his mates, lips pressed together.

You waved at the group, Nanami moving aside so you took most of the screen. “Hi everyone, I hope you’ve all been enjoying your break,” you said, the melody of your voice prompting them to go on about their summer break activities.

You chuckled when they explained their antics, revealing that they had grown bored and bet on which one of their teachers would pick up the phone off-duty. Surprisingly, even the ever-available Ichiji had turned off his phone, causing the students to almost lose all hope.

Nanami watched your face as you effortlessly conversed with his students, his initial irritation easing, replaced by a fond look. You eventually waved your goodbyes, not wanting to neglect your date.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Megumi said sheepishly. “I’ll send you a picture of me trying on that shade!” Nobara added. “You should try the revolving sushi! Byeeee!” Yuji waved off, before cutting the call.

“They completely forgot I was even here,” Nanami commented, slipping his phone back into his pocket. You chuckled at his words, your hand finding his as you softly intertwined your fingers.

“Shall we get the kids some souvenirs?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked up at your lover. He melted under your gaze, a small smile gracing his features as he brought your hand to his lips. How could he ever say no to you? “Of course my love.” You did not realize just how weak this man was for you.

[frillycatlady]

My love for frilly dresses shall triumph even the most brutal European summer heat! ☀️ Of course, we were only outside for maybe 5 minutes for some snaps, before retreating into the cool haven of Bentley’s for afternoon tea.

Shoutout to my friend for loaning me the gorgeous BTSSB Vellsarie Folding Umbrella – which I used to own but sold it when I was on the brink of leaving the hobby. I rarely regret my declutters, but this is one of my greatest regrets 😭 My dress is Rose Bouquet Stripe Chiffon OP by Victorian Maiden, one of my oldest EGL pieces that I bought from Black Alice before overseas online shopping was a thing! I’m glad it survived my various “feel like leaving this hobby” purges.

Inside Bentley’s, we indulged in a feast of savory sandwiches, delicate pastries, and perfectly fluffy scones with clotted cream. The smoked salmon sandwich was divine, and the crab was incredibly fresh and generous. The lemon curd and raspberry mousse were a perfect balance of tart and sweet, and the brandy surprise in the chocolate mousse was chef’s kiss.

[finalgilmoregirl]

everyone online is bringing back the fact that josh hutcherson learned spanish for his girlfriend so now i’m projecting that onto mike sorry it’s the law + i’m where are my fellow latina josh fans at…this one is for you

☆ mike schmidt x bilingual!reader (latina eng/esp) includes :

- mike knows the most basic of conversational spanish from his high school secondary language courses

- and after meeting you and learning about your roots, he is on a mission to connect to that part of you

- he soon looks for any and every way to learn more of the language

- he goes to the video store and looks for some his favorite movies in spanish (he thinks : if he knows them by heart already, then he can def pick up on a few dozen words)

- he buys an english to spanish dictionary, workbooks, even thinks about renting a rosetta stone cd program to listen to on his way to and from work

- maybe a month into this process he starts to show off his new knowledge, starting by pointing at things here and there and naming them in spanish

- like when he you guys go out for coffee one cold morning and after offering him a piece of your croissant, he rips off a small portion and eats it before pointing to the pastry and saying “hmm, almendras”, referring to the slices of almonds that were sprinkled on the top

- and when you look up at his face with a confused look that turns into slight surprise, he just has the smallest smirk on his face, just hoping to god in his head that you’re impressed

- or when you try to think of a word and even though it’s so simple, for some reason only the spanish version appears in your head

- “do you mind getting the um…” you attempt to ask mike one morning after you invited him over for breakfast after he had taken abby to school

-“the…?” mike looks up from the kitchen table at where you stand, pointing to the surface of the table, waving a hand over it as you try to think of the word

- “the…ugh damn. sorry, the manteles? the things-“

- “oh! the tablecloths, got it” he says as he stands to grab them from where you kept them next to the sink

- you look at him astonished, and as you watch him set the table you start to wonder where all this seemingly sudden knowledge came from

- as you both eat you point out his recent upgrade in vocabulary

- “i thought you said you only really knew how to ask where the bathroom was in spanish.”

- mike just shrugs, trying to hide his smile as he says, “yeah, i’ve just been trying to pick up a few new things here and there.”

- from then on he’s way more shameless about it, constantly asking how to say certain things that his research hasn’t taught him yet and asking you to say things in spanish to test him

- you find it silly at first, but only because it’s something that you were raised to know and you just can’t fathom someone learning it solely because of you

- but you soon realize how incredible it is for you to witness the effort he’s putting in since now you know… he obviously takes your relationship pretty seriously

- and it’s just so sweet to see.

some more of mike’s antics might include :

- being on the phone with your family and mike following you around, trying to understand what you’re gasping and ranting about

- him complimenting you in spanish

- “ay que linda” he’ll softly say after greeting you with a soft kiss before a night out

- impressing your family by introducing himself in spanish, which immediately seems to win them over

- speaking spanish in front of abby when you don’t want her to understand what the two of you are saying

- i need him in my life.

i hope you enjoyed ☆

[psicheanima]

i got intrigued by the fact that you did a senior paper on the witches from madoka - can you please tell us some more about that? i love when academic work ties to personal interests.

I can do you one better. You can just read it. Screenshots as it’s from a website. This is the actual final. I can’t include my analysis portion in an image because there’s a ten image limit on mobile. So it’s under the cut. And please be gentle, because I wrote this when I was 18.

Icebox Cake

Icebox Cake is the alternate name for the pastry Charlotte. This is of course a reference to the witch Charlotte, who the poem is about. This story is a direct adaptation of Charlotte’s canon backstory as revealed in the Magia Record Game. Charlotte is the only witch in this collection with a concrete backstory, and the only one who we know the real name of — Nagisa Momoe.

Nivelles Charaxinae

Nivelles Charaxinae is a reference to both this witch’s namesake and her design. The witch this story is about is Gertrud, named after the saint of gardens, Gertrud of Nivelles. Charaxinae is a reference to the type of butterfly that is in Gertrud’s witch form. The names of her roses in her diary entries are names of saints. I wanted to give her roses human names to show they are the true ‘humans’ to her, but also maintain a degree of disconnect. I think like Gertrud’s namesake, saints are the least human human you can be.

In case your words are all that’s left of me…

In case your words are all that’s left of me… is the only poem with a completely made up title. Though I want the ending of what happened to HN Elly, the witch of this story, to be up to reader interpretation, her feelings of having no real presence besides her online one was something I wanted to make very clear, so that’s why I chose this title.

The usernames are all references to songs sung by Marguerite in Faust. Faust is a work with immense impact on Madoka, having numerous references both visually and story wise. Most notably, quotes from it are littered in every witch labyrinth. Keeping with the theme of this poem being the odd one out name wise, HN Elly actually has another name— Kirsten. This is after Dorothy Kirsten, who famously portrayed Marguerite, which is why I paid tribute to her role.

POESIE SCHMECKT GUT

I based most of my references off the real life women the witches are named after. It shows most in POESIE SCHMECKT GUT. The namesake of this story’s witch, Elsa Maria, is Elsa Asenijeff. POESIE SCHMECKT GUT was a publishing firm for one of Elsa’s books. The base storyline is based off of Elsa’s unhappy arranged marriage, and the religious and star theme was already there in Elsa Maria’s labyrinth.

Guernica

This poem is all about visual art from the point of view of a girl who doesn’t really understand it, so I was a perfect person to write this. All the references were surface level, sort of awkwardly shoved in ones to famous pieces and artists. The title is reference to one of Piccaso’s most famous pieces, an extremely meaningful and striking abstract about war. For this witch, who is named Izabel, who does nothing but copy others, I couldn’t think of anything better to name her story, because I knew she herself could never find value in Guernica.

It’s raining again today. How long will I continue to be unlucky for?

There’s not a lot to say about this one, but I think the witch that it’s about, Patricia, would like that. The story is pretty self explanatory, but it’s one of my favorites because of that. The title is reference to a line in her labyrinth.

2 parts Absinthe 1 part Brandy 1/2 part Gin 3 parts Vodka 1 part Crème de Mûres

This witch, Roberta, is pretty special. First off, she’s an adult witch, the only in the series. She’s said to be fond of alcohol, which I tried to portray in the lack of grammar and punctuation, like you’re listening to the incoherent thought stream of the intoxicated. The title is the ingredients to her namesake, the Aunt Roberta cocktail, which is the strongest drink in the world.

Source Title: Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Source Creators: Atsuhiro Shinbo & Gen Urobuchi & Shaft Productions

Year Published/Produced: 2011

Setting: The series mainly takes place in the fictional city of Mikakihara Japan, 2011. The rest of the series takes places in the otherworldly “Labyrinths”, dark mental landscapes based on the inner feelings of the witch they belong to.

Plot Summary: The series follows a middle school girl named Madoka Kaname, who is approached by a creature named Kyuubey to grant her any wish in exchange for becoming a “magical girl” and fighting against witches— supernatural creatures that kill humans. Eventually, it is revealed witches are fallen magical girls who fall into despair and that Kyuubey purposefully creates this magical girl to witch cycle to feed off their sadness, as his species uses said emotion like energy to fight otherworldly creatures far away, to prevent the destruction of the universe.

In the end, Madoka becomes a magical girl to wish for all magical girls to get happy endings— which erases witches from existence, including herself, as all Magical Girls eventually become witches. This creates a paradox through which no one remembers her anymore, except one person, the girl who had wished for her not to live a normal life more than anyone.

Key Character Descriptions

Charlotte— The witch of sweets, it is her nature to be tenacious. Charlotte used to be a ten year old girl named Momoe, who became a witch after falling in despair at the death of her mother.

H.N. Elly— The box witch, it is her nature to be covetous. Her labrynth and cards all imply that she was an internet addicted shut-in turned internet-famous idol, who cracked under the pressure of constant performance.

Elsa Maria— The shadow witch, it is her nature to be self-righteous. Due to her religious imagery, many theorize she was driven to despair after finding out the witches she slayed as a magical girl used to be fellow humans. However, I based my story on her on the life of her namesake, Elsa Asenijeff.

Gertrud— The rose garden witch, it is her nature to be distrustful. Nothing is known about her backstory, so I constructed my adaptation for her based on the info we do know about her, such as the fact that “she holds roses dearer than anything else” and that, “she loathes the thought of humans trampling her labyrinth”.

Patricia— The class representative witch, it is her nature to be an onlooker. It has been said she used to be a normal, serious girl who was overlooked by her classmates. In the show, her wish is for her school life routine to go on forever, which is what I based my adaptation for her on.

Izabel— The artist witch, it is her nature to be vain. In her prior life, she was an artist suffering from a creative block who yearned for others to notice her. It is said that every art piece she produced was something “that you have probably seen somewhere before”.

Roberta— The birdcage witch, it is her nature to rage. Before she became a witch, she was a party girl living a life of surface level relationships, specifically with men, but secretly, she was disgusted by all of them. Her wish was for friends who wouldn’t dislike her.

Cultural Themes

The fear of being alone is a major theme in Madoka Magica, as depicted through the struggles of various characters. Sayaka Miki's desire to win the affections of her crush, Kyousuke, despite his lack of care for her efforts, highlights her fear of being unloved. She becomes obsessed with trying to gain his love, ultimately leading to her downfall.

In a more subtle way, Mami Tomoe's yearning for companionship also highlights the theme of fear of being alone. Despite her cheerful and big sister-like front, Mami is revealed to be deeply lonely and craves companionship. She reaches out to other magical girls in an attempt to alleviate her loneliness, but her efforts are paid in dust.

And of course, the biggest example of this is Homura Akemi's refusal to let Madoka die. Homura goes to great lengths to protect Madoka, trapping herself in a time loop to prevent Madoka from becoming a victim of the magical girl system. Her actions are driven by her fear of losing Madoka and being left alone in a world without her, to the point where she would even let the universe itself be destroyed to save her love.

Through these characters, the series explores the visceral human need for connection, and the disastrous consequences that arise from the lengths we will go to to obtain it.

The central message I want to explore in my adaptation is the prior lives of monsters. Through these stories of monsters before they "became" monsters, I want to delve into the idea of how the creatures of Madoka Magica, framed as so inhumane the literal art style changes for them, used to lead extremely human, flawed lives before the show portrayed them. Using a simple, fairytale-like style of writing and multiple types of writing, like receipts, reviews, and diary entries, I want to portray the mundaneness of their lives, and just how involved in the world they were. That they were real little girls, with real lives that impacted the things around them.

Motifs

The most common motif in Madoka Magica is fairytale motifs, specifically Eastern European fairytales. Witches, little girls tempted by strange creatures, candy houses. One character, Sayaka Miki, even has her entire story based on the little mermaid. She loves a boy, he doesn’t love her, she sacrifices everything for him anyways and then turns into a huge, mermaid monster. I aim to invoke this through my style of writing, taking a simple yet whimsical approach.

Why Madoka?

I like almost everything about this anime. The characters, the love they have for one another, the Czech fairytale-like art style, and that despite the dark themes, the story never supports falling into the darkness yourself. One thing I dislike is that the short 12 episode length, while making the series very “complete” also serves to stunt the potential of a majority of the characters. As the series relies on the connections these characters have, it would have benefited very extremely from a longer run-time to show us the chemistry between the girls and their loved ones, as the lack of screen time can make these deep bonds seem rushed and superficial. I want to try to convey the importance of those deep bonds in my work, but like I said, it’s a matter of time, not passion, so my adaptation can’t fix this issue.

Adding sequels and prequels has, in my opinion, sullied the impact of the original work. Madoka Magica is an intensely popular brand, and thus, is extremely profitable. Making spin-offs for the short series seems obvious from a business point of view. But a majority of these spin-offs are just made simply from this business point of view, and nothing else. One example of this is the most popular spin-off series for Madoka, "Magia Record," which takes place in the same universe with a new, expansive cast of characters. The show feels like a cheap imitation of the original series. Instead of trying to explore new interesting themes or go into depth on the topics brought up in Madoka, it’s just trying to recapture what made it so special without truly understanding why it was so special in the first place.

One of the primary cultural fears explored in Madoka Magica is the fear of death, specifically the death of the ones you love. At the end of the series, it is revealed that Madoka’s aloof best friend, Homura, is actually in love with her and has been stuck in a time loop trying to prevent Madoka’s death, which proves unavoidable. The finale deals with Homura stopping the time loop and accepting her crush’s death, and that the world will move on without her, and so should she. The series tells us death is natural, it happens to all of us, and we cannot stop it. But we can honor the ones we loved and lost and step into the future as they would want.

[sweetprfct]

The Wanderers

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joe tend to wander every time he was in a foreign city but that was because you both love the adventure. However, Alex, his manager, was not too amused about that.

Author's Note: This is a re-publish one shot from my old deleted blog. I know this idea was inspired by the other fics here in tumblr where Joe can't seem to stay in one place and rumors in twitter about it whenever they meet him in the cons? I actually forgot, but I know the idea derived from those little talks. Anyway, enjoy! :)

Wordcount: 2.5K

“So, when were you going to tell me that you were going to bring her?” 

You heard Alex scold Joe quietly at the hotel lobby. Joe had decided on his own just the other day that it was a good idea for you to tag along with him in Paris for a week. He had a convention to do for two days and some interviews and photoshoot for Dior, so why not bring his biggest supporter with him? That was you. 

You admit that you could be a bad influence towards Joe when it comes to not being able to focus on his work and that was why Alex, his manager, had come to the conclusion that whenever Joe wanted to bring you, he should tell him first. Not like it was Alex’s business, but the man wanted to be prepared whenever the two of you wandered off somewhere else. It stressed Alex out all the time, not knowing whether the two of you would come back or not. Of course, you both always did. 

Well, except that one time. 

In both of your defense, you both didn’t know that Joe was scheduled for three days— not two— in the London Comic Con, and well— you both decided that it was a good idea to run off to Italy right after his second day to get some peace and quiet after two hectic busy days. Joe loved his job. He really did but sometimes, he just needed some space and some quiet time. What could be better than by doing it with you? You, after all, also loved to explore different things and places. It was why you two had clicked. It was why this relationship always kept the both of you on your toes. 

“Right now?” Joe scrunched his nose as you tried to hold in your laugh. “I’m telling you about it right now, aren’t I?”

Alex didn’t say anything. All he did was gave Joe a look and then turned his head to you, giving you a glare also. You bit your lower lip and gave him a small smile. Joe hated it when you were part of these kinds of conversations, so you always stood in the corner and let the two lads do their thing. Though, you always could hear those little whispers about you. 

Alex sighed and shook his head. “You know what? Fine. But you have two days for this comic con this weekend and I need you bright and early on Tuesday morning for the Dior photoshoot.” 

“Got it.” Joe nodded his head and walked towards where you were.

“And Joe…” Alex stopped the both of you in your tracks. 

Joe looked over his shoulder, brows raised as Alex said, “Don’t even try wandering off anywhere in Paris. There is a lot of media around the city this week.” 

“Okay.” Joe held in his smile before intertwining his fingers with yours. 

Alex watched as the two of you laughed quietly, making your way into the elevators. Joe gave Alex a small wave before the elevator doors closed completely. You couldn’t help but bury your face in his neck and laughed. 

“He hates me, you know that?” You mumbled. 

Joe laughed softly, wrapping his arms around you. “Well, I love you, so Alex can fuck off.”

You laughed as you leaned in to kiss him softly on his lips. As soon as the elevator doors opened, you both made your way to his hotel room and the moment Joe closed the door behind him, he quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled you into the air, letting out a squeal from you. 

“Joe!” You laughed as he gently set you back down. “You know…” A mischievous smile formed on your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m really craving these pastries that I saw online. The place is just a five minute walk from here.”

Joe hummed softly and squinted his eyes at you, knowing full well you already had this plan in your mind before you two even stepped inside the plane this morning. 

“Alex said we can’t go out, darling.” Joe stated. 

“Well, okay.” You shrugged, letting your arms fall on your sides. “No chocolate croissants then.”

You grunted as you flopped yourself on the king size bed. Joe smiled, knowing exactly what you were doing. It was your way for him to not be able to resist you because you knew he loved his chocolate croissants and you knew that he loved that pout of yours. Joe walked over to the bed, his knees dipping into the mattress on either side of your legs as he towered over you. He looked down at you for a moment and leaned down to give you a chaste kiss. 

“Well, Alex should understand that I need my chocolate croissants.” Joe murmured as he kissed you again.

A small smile slowly formed on your face as you gazed up at him. “Yeah? I think he should understand that.” 

Joe kissed you again one more time before getting up from the bed and held out his hands, reaching for yours. Helping you up from the bed, you both left your two suitcases in the middle of your hotel room and quickly left the room, looking around the hall to make sure Alex wasn’t anywhere around.

Running down the hall quietly, Joe repeatedly clicked the elevator button until both doors opened. There was no sign of Alex anywhere in the lobby, so the both of you walked out of the hotel with a clear path. 

Paris was a bit cold tonight, but the sky was clear and you could see some stars twinkling above you. Walking down the streets of Paris, you held hands with Joe and enjoyed the night air. Five minutes later, you both found yourselves in the little pastry shop that you told Joe about and bought yourselves some chocolate croissants and some hot chocolate. You sat at the small little table outside and enjoyed the pastries with comfortable silence lingering between you two.

It was peaceful. 

You both loved that. You both enjoyed that because it was like you knew what you both wanted at this moment. Just some peace and quiet as you both enjoyed your little delicious pastries and the stunning view of Paris. 

Later that night, you found yourselves laughing together over some memory you two remembered, stopping in the middle of a small alleyway. Joe set his hands on your hips and pulled you close to him. 

“Are we really going to make out in the middle of a dark alley?” You teased him. 

Joe hummed and smiled at you. “My safe haven.” He murmured, cupping your cheek with his one hand. 

“I love you.” You murmured and leaned in to kiss him deeply. 

And you were right. 

You both made out like two teenagers in the middle of the dark alley, but you didn’t care because it was you and Joe. Joe and you. Your own little safe universe with him and that was all you cared about. 

“Chocolate croissants, really?” Alex scolded Joe for the second time the next morning inside his little dressing room. 

The first time was this morning when you and Joe had woken up late and thought you had all the time in the world to go downstairs and get breakfast. 

“Um… actually, that’s my fault.” You chimed in from the sofa you were sitting in the corner.

“Of course, it is.” Alex said sarcastically, giving Joe a look. 

“It’s just little pastries. There was no harm done.” Joe argued back with Alex. “Plus, I was also a tad bit hungry.”

“Well, your little hunger got you into five different articles with different rumors about it first thing this morning.” Alex argued back. “If you guys are hungry, there is room service—”

“Alex?”

The three of you snapped your heads towards the door and saw a woman by the doorway, holding a clipboard in her hands. 

“They’re ready for Joe.” She said. 

Alex sighed and nodded his head as Joe turned to give you a smile. He made his way towards you to give you a kiss but Alex had stopped him.

“Uh! No. Let’s go.” Alex said, setting a hand on his shoulder and turning him towards the door. 

You giggled softly and waved at Joe before sliding your phone out of your pocket and tried to entertain yourself by scrolling through Instagram and TikTok.

 The weekend went by quickly. Joe did the convention and the two of you didn’t go out of the hotel again that night. Though on his second day of the convention, you had found yourself a bit bored in the dressing room, so you decided to google some things. Some places. You were itching to get out and do something, and you knew Joe was too. You could see it in his eyes how much he wanted to go somewhere and away from everyone. 

“Where the hell are you?” 

You heard Alex through the phone later that afternoon as you looked out the window. Joe squeezed your hand softly as he held in his laugh. 

“On a train.” Joe answered. 

“On fucking a train? Are you fucking mental? Going where?” Alex asked, frustrated. 

“We’ll be back before the Dior photoshoot, I promise.” Joe said before hanging up the phone. 

“You know he will never let me tag along ever again, right?” You chuckled softly and set your head on his shoulder.

Joe wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to his side, planting a soft kiss on your hair.

“He knows I do the same thing even if you aren’t here with me.” Joe replied. “Alex needs to relax.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Does he even relax?”

“No idea.” Joe smiled as he looked out the window. 

There was one place you both loved even if you went anywhere in the world and that was the beach. Your laughter echoed with the waves crashing to the shore as the both of you ran towards the ocean. You slipped your shoes off immediately and ran towards the water, dipping your feet in it, while Joe followed behind. He hugged you from behind and twirled you around in the air as you both laughed. 

You leaned down and splashed Joe with some water, while you laughed at him. He stood there soaking wet, his jaw dropped on the ground. 

“I’m definitely getting my revenge for that.” Joe warned you.

You squealed, running away from him as he tried to splash you with some water. Eventually, he had caught up to you as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you deeper into the ocean. Both of you not caring if your clothes were all wet. By the time the sunset was setting on the horizon, you both were laying on the sand as you tried to get your clothes to dry off. You sat up and rubbed Joe’s back softly, making him hum in approval. 

“Relaxed?” You asked.

“Very.” He closed his eyes for a moment.

He was laying on his stomach while he rested his head on both of his arms. His curly hair was all disarray and flowing through the wind. You couldn’t help but smile and adore all parts of him. The pink and orange skies were reflecting through his butterfly soft skin, and it made him look even more mesmerizing through your eyes. 

“C’mere.” Joe fluttered his eyes open and one of his arms reached for you as he flipped himself over and laid on his back.

You laid next to him, your head resting on his chest as Joe brushed your hair softly with his fingers. 

“I hope I don’t get you in too much trouble.” You said.

Joe chuckled, “You don’t. I get myself in enough trouble even if you aren’t here. Plus, I love these kinds of moments with you.”

“Yeah?” You glanced up at him with a grin.

“Yes. I love that I’m able to do my work and I still get to spend time with you and be with you to explore different things and places.”

“Well, I’m glad because I love doing all of these things with you too.” You smiled, reaching to kiss his cheek. 

You both waited ‘til the sun had completely set on the horizon before Joe had wrapped his jacket around you since the temperature had dropped at night. The train ride back to the hotel was quiet, and you had fallen asleep in his arms. By the time the train arrived back to Paris, it was late at night and both of you were pretty exhausted that you just crashed the moment you arrived back in the hotel room. 

The Dior photoshoot was fast moving, and Joe was kept busy the whole day. You sat in his dressing room that day and scrolled through the internet again. Halfway through, you had found yourself watching him getting his photos taken. Alex, however, had kept a strict watch on you. You knew he was furious about the whole getting in the train and going to the beach thing, so you couldn’t blame him. 

“Hey, I talked to Alex and they don’t need me here again until Friday.” Joe muttered to you when he was on his break. 

You smiled. “Yeah? Why do you have that devious smile on your face?” 

“How’s Lyon sounding to you right now?” 

You raised your brow, “It sounds perfect, honestly.”

“After the shoot, yeah?” 

You chuckled and nodded your head as Joe got dragged back in the little studio for more photos. You turned to your left and saw Alex giving you a look. You didn’t say anything and gave him a small wave as he shook his head. 

There was another hour of waiting for Joe after that, but you didn’t mind because you absolutely enjoyed every minute of it and enjoyed watching him work. You could tell he was having so much fun too, and you couldn’t help but feel proud of him. This was his first designer ambassador brand, and you were so happy for him. 

“So, how long do you think it will take for Alex to call—” You were interrupted that afternoon with Joe’s phone ringing.

Just in time. 

You could hear Alex sighing loudly through the phone. “At least tell me where you are.” Alex sounded defeated. 

“Lyon.” Joe grinned. “I’ll be back, I promise—”

“I know.” Alex replied, “Just be on time please.” 

“I will.” 

“Have fun.” 

Just like that, Alex had hung up the phone. 

“Fucking wanderers.” Alex muttered under his breath as he shook his head. 

You grinned at Joe as he gave you an approving smile on his face. You knew right then that Alex was fine with it, or atleast, he had no choice anyway. Looking out the window of the train, you leaned back on Joe’s side as he wrapped an arm around you and your fingers intertwined with his. You let out a sigh of relief as you both continued blissfully in another adventure together. 

*********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

[chqolan]

general ed headcanons

A/N: i thought it'd be nice to just share some ed headcanons that i think about quite often for some odd reason

TW: hmm nothing really ! maybe some typos cus i didn’t proof read anything , yolooo

starting this off with a banger; ed can’t drive.

but it’s not his fault! when he thinks about it, he’s never had a reason to drive. being raised by balrog would mean that he also benefited from the boxer’s wealth.

and of course, balrog would always have both him and ed in fancy cars or limos getting transported wherever they wanted.

even though he’s older and more dependant on himself, ed settles on using public transportation to make his way around town.

he’d never admit to anybody how often he used to get lost on the subway when first getting used to travelling on his own though…

this might be expected, but ed also has pretty bad eating habits. if he’s not accidentally starving himself (busy with travelling, working, lack of appetite, etc), he’s treating himself to a bunch of sweets and snacks.

it’s canon/confirmed that ed hates vegetables and loves sweets, so expect him to just be snacking on things like chocolate mint ice cream, licorice (both are his confirmed favourites !), candies, pastries etc.

since ed was in balrog’s care growing up, i doubt that he knew much of his own german heritage. it’s believable that he was quite out of touch with german culture until meeting falke.

since meeting his older sister figure, he’s learned to speak/understand quite a bit of german and enjoy german food ! (which isn’t really much a headcanon considering this is confirmed and very much canon)

falke definitely made him use duolingo to help teach him german, and ed can confirm that he despises the look of the duolingo bird. something about the way it looks… it rubs him the wrong way.

ed isn’t very into social media, but he has an account created on most platforms. he’s a huge lurker online too.

his accounts are somewhat anonymous and he’ll never have pictures of himself posted anywhere.

all his accounts are private with 6-10 followers who are just his neo shadaloo friends, balrog and probably you/world tour avatar.

on some occasions he’ll post pictures of snacks or meals that he’s eating, but even then it’s still not much.

however, he does follow a handful of accounts that post things he’s into. and due to that he’s adjusted his algorithm on all apps to show content related to boxing, pool/billiards, baking and pastry videos etc !

ed is a hot head and he can’t stop himself from arguing in comment sections—he always has to speak his mind.

even if he’s not arguing with people, he’ll sometimes leave small comments under certain things he’s fond of.

there’s a video of a candy shop tour? he’ll watch the whole thing in awe and comment something simple like “i gotta visit here some day”.

ed most likely has a small 1 bedroom apartment in metro city. it’s not the cleanest home, but at least he finds it comfortable.

he has charts scattered with pins, messy handwriting, photographs and more that helps him keep track of the shadaloo bases that he and his team find while saving other test subjects.

he’s only really home when it’s time to sleep.

in public spaces, ed prefers to keep to himself unless somebody is actively trying to get his attention.

since ed is always on the subway, he makes sure to be ready with lots of games to play on his phone. it’s no shocker that he’s a fan of pool games! it’ll keep him occupied no matter how long his train rides are.

adding a small bonus since it’s father’s day while i’m writing this…

ed totally celebrates with balrog every year on this occasion. knowing both of them, they probably think it’s too sappy to consider it as them celebrating father’s day.

but deep down they’re both aware of it and they’re grateful for each other ! truly the best father-son duo !

[pearcesvn]

bf!chuuya who treats you like a princess.

warnings: a looot of fluff and some smut... :3

you walk out of the bathroom, and chuuya looks at you from the kitchen, with a smile, he walks to you, and hugs you tight. "hey baby.. looking so pretty ah? i want to spoil you today, do you want to go shopping? i'll pay for everything you want." you nod and smile at him, he gives you a small peck on the lips.

before going to the bedroom with you to change. he smirks, and before you even get to the walk-in closet, he pushed you down gently on the bed, and asks "may I kiss you?" you turn red immediately, your whole face heats up, but you nod. he smiles and kisses you passionately, his hand goes to your thigh, caressing it gently, his other hand behind your back, "you're so soft... and you smell so good." "chuuya.. l-let's just.. do this later." he sighs disappointedly, but agrees, then you two decide to change so that you can go out to the mall.

you decided to wear a white lace dress, while chuuya went with a blue button down and trousers, he's also wearing a gold watch, he looks at you lovingly, and says "just like a princess..." he takes your hand, and kisses your cheek. he smells so good.. and so expensive. he opens the car door for you, then while driving, he keeps his hand on your thigh, and looks at you from time to time. "why do you keep looking at me?" you say, "you're just so pretty.. i can't explain it." he says, with his eyes on the road, and one hand on the wheel. your face turns even more red, "you're so corny, you know that?" "hm, am i that corny?" he says, after parking, he opens the door for you, and then lets you hold onto his arm while walking.

"look at this, baby, this would look cute on you." he says, showing you a bag, it wasn't really your type, "that does look cute but i'll look for a few more bags, chuuya" he fake pouts, and waits for you while you look for bags, you show him a few that you like, and he compliments each one. you couldn't decide, but there was a bag that you really wanted, but it's too out of the budget. (who even has a budget? imagine... i spend all my money online..)

"how about we go and eat? i'm so hungry..." you say, and he responds "sure, what do you want?" him, you wanted him! jokes aside, you really wanted some pastries, "i want some cake, and some coffee or boba." he nods, and he paid for everything you wanted. while you were eating, you were looking around, and he just started feeding you, just like a princess.

after shopping, chuuya carried all of the things that you bought (with his money! of course!) "i have a surprise for you, baby." he says, as he opens the car door for you. he gets in and is holding a big bag, "what is that, chuuya?" "i saw you eyeing that big bag earlier, i got it while you were in the washroom." you were too stunned to speak, you turn red, and hug him immediately.

when the two of you got home, chuuya lifts you up from the passenger seat, and goes to the bedroom.

"now that we're home, can we continue what we were doing earlier?" you nod, and he kisses you passionately, while slowly taking off your dress, kissing you everywhere until you were all naked. he then goes down in-between your thighs, and starts to tease you. "how does that feel?" you moan softly, burying your face in the pillow, he smirks, "look at me, baby" he says, before taking off.. his boxers. "d-do we have condoms..?" you ask, feeling so embarrassed. he nods, before focusing on your bosoms, touching them gently, before caressing them, "so soft.. why are you so soft, baby? you're like a pillow.."

after a while of making out, he puts on the condom and then starts to slowly enter, you feel a bulge in your stomach, you look down, and see an imprint of his cock, making you moan even more, he starts to go fast, as tears fall down your eyes due to the pain, "oh baby, am i hurting you? i can stop if you want me to." you shook your head, and after a while of screaming out his name, the two of you were done.

he then wipes off his mess off of you, and prepares you a bath, he then lifts you up from the bed, and joins you in the tub, cleaning you gently. "your body is absolutely beautiful.. even your flaws." he kisses your forehead after bathing, and that night, you got knocked out, he's holding you close to his body, and whispers "i love you" with a smile.

THIS IS SO CORNYYYYWIAGAKWHLQHSKSHD anyway I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE SMUT so please i apologize if its bad 🙏

chuuya is so hot i want him inside of me ugh i want ugheehwjnskwjakwkwnwkeje meow wmekwmekwowow @tsjmra love u sorry late

[shadeysprings]

Fabled Memories

—Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: You wake up one evening, battered and bruised, but have no recollection of how it came to be.

Warnings: implied kidnapping, basement wife vibes, amnesia & character death. There may be more, but remember that this is a dark fic, so please tread carefully.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week Three Challenge: Something New and the trope I chose was Amnesia and Basement Wife. I've always wanted to write something that had the basement wife element and the thoughts just kept brewing. Plus, I've been antsy to write Steve again.

p.s. I may turn this into a mini-series.

Your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated. Support content creators! And of course, I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

The silence that fills the cafe is a welcome respite after dealing with the onslaught of impatient customers during the morning rush hour. It’s already half past eleven when you glance down at your watch, taking it as a cue to wipe down on the counter and fill the machine with the coffee beans to prepare for the second wave of patrons for the lunch rush.

While stacking the display case with pastries and sandwiches alike, you hear the bell chime and recite on instinct your customer service spiel. 

“I hope I can trouble you for a cup.” The familiar voice echoes in your ears and you look up, surprised to see Steve Rogers on the other side, smiling at you when your eyes meet.

“You’re early today, Captain.” You tell him and immediately make quick work of his usual order; a brewed coffee with two sugars and one cream. “You don’t usually stop by til after noon.”

“Yeah—well, Tony called in for a meeting today.” He huffs his response, propping his hand on his waist while the other rests on the counter, fingers drumming against the marble surface. “Wanted to discuss something about proper etiquette for the gala this coming Friday.”

That makes you snort, Steve looking at you curiously when you snap the lid on the cup and place it down on the counter. He looks at you expectantly and you shake your head instead, standing by the register to ring up his order. 

“What is it?” He urges, though gently, amusement painting on his face as he keeps his eyes on you. “You’re laughing at what I said.”

“I’m not laughing.” You say in defense but the Avenger only raises an eyebrow in question. So you cave, “It’s just funny thinking Mr. Stark would be talking about proper etiquette when the videos scattering online suggests otherwise. No offense to him though.” 

He laughs and so do you. “No offense taken, doll. Even Sam thinks the same.” The pet name still puts you off but you’ve gotten used to it over the year of making him his coffee. He slides a hundred to you after giving him his total and you count up his change. “Oh, you keep the change. You should know by now that I don’t take it.”

“I—” You stare at the bills in your hand before looking back at him. “But this is a little too much, Captain. I couldn’t possibly—”

“Of course you can. It’s a tip and you deserve it.” He smiles and takes the paper cup from the countertop, raising it up to you. “You make my coffee better than any of Stark’s fancy cappuccino machines and besides, I want to help you get that car you wanted.”

“Oh—you remembered that?” 

“How can I not?” He leans closer. “You kept talking about it and the way your eyes sparkled when you did just told me that you wanted it so bad.”

You chuckle and give him a smile. “I already got it actually. My husband—he got it for me as an anniversary pr—Oh god!”

You gasp and take a sudden step back when his coffee bursts in his hand, immediately making your way to the back to grab the mop and walking to where he stands to clean up the mess. But your eyes widen and you feel an unexpected chill run up your spine when you see the discarded paper cup on the floor, crushed.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve apologizes in a rush, waving him off when he tries to take the mop from you. “I guess I didn’t know my own strength.” He blurts out and you try to keep your cool as you busy yourself with the task, picking up the cup from the ground and heading back to the counter to discard it in the bin. 

“It’s alright.” You breathe, trying to keep the growing nervousness at bay. “Accidents happen. Let me make you a new one. On the house.” You tell him and quickly turn to make a fresh cup before he could even say anything. 

The comfortable silence from earlier turns a new leaf, feeling an uncertain tension building around the both of you and making you move at a measured pace. You feel Steve’s eyes burning the back of your head and you fight to dismiss the unease, convincing yourself that it was indeed an accident. The serum couldn’t be that perfect, right?

“You never mentioned you were married.” His tone is calm yet somewhat accusatory, your fingers shaking as you add the sugar to the brew. “I never even saw you wearing a ring.”

“I—I’m not allowed to wear it during my shift.” You explain matter of factly, forcing a smile when you snap the lid and turn to face him. “Sanitation and all.”

“I see,” He nods and takes the cup when you hold it out to him, his fingers brushing against yours, lingering before he pulls away. “Well, your husband is one lucky bastard to have a pretty thing like you as his wife.” You can’t help the blush that creeps up your neck from the compliment. 

You look to the door when the bell suddenly chimes, several of the working class customers lining up behind Steve while they look up at the menu to decide on their order. 

“I guess I should let you go.” His serious tone is gone, replaced by a cheerful one yet you feel that his words mean so much more than just leaving the cafe. “I’ll see you around, doll.” He says with finality with another of his friendly smiles before turning to leave but not without the customers stopping to ogle him as he walks past the door. 

You don’t see Steve for a week and you don’t want to admit it but you find his absence a relief. Your last encounter with him was awkward, something unusual for he seems to always be cool and collected when he comes over and gets his usual order. You’d dare to even say that the both of you are more than acquaintances with how much you’ve shared with each other while he waits for his coffee. 

Even Caleb, your husband, is jealous that you get to meet the great Captain America—with him being a fan of the Avengers like they were movie stars. It did give you the idea of asking Steve if he could meet your husband, a small surprise you’re planning for his coming birthday. Though you’ll wait til he comes back and you just hope that by then, the tension between the both of you has completely subsided.

“Hey there, I’m looking for a pretty girl who works here. Answers to ‘my love’ and sometimes ‘Mrs. Stinky Butt.’” You turn your head as you lock the shop doors, laughing at Caleb's commentary before smiling when you see the bouquet of sunflowers nestled in his arms. 

“I think she prefers ‘my love’ more, Mr. Stinky Butt.” You retort and greet your husband with a hug, humming softly when he plants a soft kiss on your lips and wraps an arm snuggly around your waist. “What are the flowers for?” You ask before leaning over and taking a whiff of their scent.

“Well, it has been a while since you did a closing shift and I know how tough it can be,” He begins, “So—I thought of a night full of activities to pamper my gorgeous wife so you can start your day tomorrow fully relaxed.”

You hum in thought while walking with him to your car. “I’m listening.” 

“Okay, so the flowers were first and it has already succeeded.” He says proudly and you chuckle at the wide grin he gives you. “There is a delicious take out dinner waiting for you at home—”

“Number Nine?” You ask in anticipation.

“The very one,” He confirms and you bounce in excitement before urging him to continue. “I also got us some face masks we can indulge in and we can end the night with popcorn and a movie of your choosing.”

“Even the sappy romantic ones?” 

“Especially the sappy romantic ones.” Caleb says and you quickly wrap your arms around him tightly, feeling your heart grow full with love for the man you call your husband. “Whoa—hug attack!” He exclaims and you laugh when he wraps his arms around you just as tight and spins you around. 

“Thank you, Babe.” You breathe when he sets you down, basking in the warmth of his embrace as the night breeze surrounds the both of you. “You’re the best.”

“No. You are—” He retorts before nuzzling his nose against yours. “And the best only deserves the best.”

You watch the scenery of the night as you stare out the window, unconsciously lifting the flowers to your nose to take in their scent once again. A smile kisses your lips when you feel Caleb’s hand rest on your thigh but wonder why they feel tense. Slowly, you reach down and take his hand in yours, pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles before turning in your seat to face him. 

“You have your seatbelt on, baby?” He asks, his voice strained as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Tell me you’re strapped in. Please.” He urges.

“I am—” You answer, feeling nervous when he only gives you a quick glance before turning back to face the road. “Is something wrong?” The way his grip tights around the wheel has your heart beat spiking. “Caleb?”

“I’m going to tell you something but you have to promise me that you won’t freak out, okay?” His voice is calm yet you can tell he’s nervous all the same. “Promise me, babe. I need you to stay calm and listen carefully.”

“I promise.” You choke out, your hand tightening on his fingers. “I’ll be calm.”

“Okay—I need you to call 911 and tell them we’re at the freeway on 71.” He starts, “Tell them that you’re in the car with your husband and that the breaks are not working.”

“What?!” You gasp and drop the flowers to the floor. “Caleb—wh-what happened?! What—why?”

“Babe, calm down. You promised me.” He coos, turning your hand in his before pulling it to him and pressing the back of your palm against his cheek. “Now, breathe for me, baby. Breathe then get your phone and make the call. And you have to tell them we’re running 80 miles.”

“Okay.” You nod, swallowing thickly as you try to quell your fear. “Okay.” With your free hand, you grab your clutch on the center console and take out your phone. Your fingers begin fidgeting as you dial the number as fast as you can, your knee bouncing as you wait for the responder to answer.

But fear encapsulates you in a tight cocoon, suffocating you when no one picks up. You try again, and again, but you still end up with the same result.

“Why is no one answering?!” You say in a panic and look over at Caleb, his eyes focused and his face only illuminated by lights from the lamp posts. 

“Fuck!” He grunts and releases your hand, looking around after before facing the road. “Get out of your seat, babe, and I want you to go to the back and strap yourself in.” He instructs. 

“But Ca—”

“No questions, babe. Just do it. Please.” He almost begs and you nod, quickly unbuckling your seat belt before climbing to the back and strapping yourself in once again. “Tell me once you’re done.”

“I’m buckled in.” Your voice quivers as you look ahead, whispering a silent prayer to the heavens. “What are we going to do?”

You hear the car rev before it starts to lose control, Caleb gripping tight on the wheel as he tries to center it on the road. You let out a scream when the car goes off road, several vehicles honking and swerving to get out of the way. Darkness completely shrouds the car as you enter, what you hope is a grassy field, a shriek escaping your lips when you hit a wired fence. 

You try to focus on Caleb’s eyes on the rear view mirror, trying to look for a semblance of hope that you both will be okay. But when he meets yours, you see the fear looming in his blue irises. 

Desolation suddenly washes over you when he no longer looks ahead, keeping his eyes on your face. You see him reach for you and you do the same, grasping his hand tight like a lifeline. But your heart shatters when you see the tear that escapes him, one that you mirror as you feel him silently bidding you goodbye.

“I love you so much, babe.” He whispers. “I’m so darn lucky to have met you.”

“Caleb—” You croak as you try to wipe your own tears. “What are you saying? We’ll be okay, right?” You whimper before looking around to try and see if anything would save the both of you yet all you see is nothing. 

Before you can turn to face him again, wanting nothing but to look at him if this was indeed the end, a loud bang echoes through the open and you jolt forward, crying loudly and screaming when your head slams roughly against the ceiling of the car. You feel the vehicle turn over, rolling uncontrollably into the void until everything stops and goes dark.

The bright, white light glares harshly against your eyes when you open them, squinting as you groan and move against the bed you lay on, trying to decipher where you are. A soft beeping sound plays on your left, and an IV drip hangs on your right, to which you find connected to you, along with several other contraptions. 

You have no recollection of what happened before you woke up, not even an inkling of how you ended up in the hospital room. You don’t even know what time or day it is, the window in the far right side of the room being the only source to tell you  it’s night time. 

Pain then rushes through your body as you try to sit up, seeing your left leg elevated by a sling that hangs from the ceiling and feeling a bandage wrapped around your head when you lift your hand to try and ease the ache hammering in your temples. 

Panic quickly consumes you as you as questions fill your head. Why are you in bandages? Why are you here? Where the hell are you? The beeping at your side starts growing frantic, and you along with it, your heart beating faster and your hands clenching into fist against the white sheets of the bed, and all at once screaming for help, crying for anyone to come to your aid.

The door to the right suddenly opens and you stop when you see a blond man enter. Worry fills his face and you see his eyes brimming with tears as he walks over to you, only stopping mid way when you hold your arms out and try to push yourself against the pillow and away from him. But such actions don't deter the stranger, only having them push on and sit at the edge of the bed, his movements slow and gentle as he reaches over and caresses the side of your face. 

“Thank God, you’re awake.” He chokes out a sob before taking both of your hands in his and pressing them to his lips. “I was so worried. The doctor said it might be months before you ever woke up.” He opens your closed fist and carefully places them on his cheek, leaning against your touch.

You study his face, his golden hair looking messy and his face in obvious distraught as his forehead wrinkles when his sapphire eyes meet yours. The sleeves of his black sweater are rolled up to his elbows, showing off the strength he possesses. You feel like you’ve seen him before but you can’t place it, all sense of knowing seemingly lost as you don’t even recall anything about yourself. 

“Wh—who are you?” You ask, frowning when you see the shock form on his face.

“I—” He struggles to speak, his eyes closing as he squeezes your hand. “You don’t remember me?” 

“I—I’m sorry—” You mumble. “I—I don’t—should I?”

“The doctors said this would happen but I was skeptical.” You see the tears flow from his eyes and you feel a pang of pain deep in your chest upon seeing his sadness. “But don’t worry, hon. We’ll get through this.” He says with surety before opening his eyes and facing you once again. “We can start small—your name.”

He says a name and tells you that it’s yours. You feel unsure but you latch onto his words, desperate to know more. 

“I’m Steve Rogers.” He says next, lacing his fingers with yours. “And I’m your husband.”

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