#so I had to try and do lose scribbles today

[leenfiend]

Y’all want this scribble 🧍‍♀️

[nicksolemnlyswears]

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

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

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you going far?"

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

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

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

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

"You really don't have to…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Late night?"

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

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

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

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

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, rebellion or something else?"

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

"Did it work?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

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

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night," he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You sure?" He asks once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, chef!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chef, your girl is here."

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

"Here you go."

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Chef!"

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

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

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

"You too, Neil!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about your famous pizza?"

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

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

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That rough," you grimace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What good does he have to offer you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's been so fuckin' long.

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

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

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carmen, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

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

The End?

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

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

thank you! bye xx

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2203

Warnings: none

Summary: when Alexia is sick and more stubborn than ever, yo do everything possible to make her feel better. [Based on this request, though I did change it up a little to make it fit alexia better. I hope that’s okay.]

[prompts]

It was rather late when you wonder into the living room from your shared bedroom, spotting Alexia sat on the couch clad in one of your shirts and a pair of baggy sweatpants just where you'd left her a few hours ago. In her hands was a small notepad and pen, and her eyes were fixated on the TV in front of her where one of her last Barça matches was playing.

It was against Sociedad, and they'd won, of course, but win or lose Alexia always had to watch the match back. There was always something she was under the impression she could fix. Always something she or someone else could do better.

Analysing, is what she likes to call it. Obsessing is what it actually was.

Normally, you were content to leave her be. However, today, you weren't so keen to let her do so. She'd woken up somewhat under the weather this morning. Nothing too terrible. Just the sniffles and maybe a light fever if her flushed skin was anything to go by, but despite that all you wanted her to do was relax. Maybe take some medicine or eat some soup. But getting Alexia getting her to admit she was sick was like trying to find something to watch on Netflix; almost impossible and always ends in a fight.

And so you had simply watched. You'd watched as she'd stifle somewhat heavy sneezes into the back of her wrist. You'd watched as she'd swallow heavily before wincing and reaching for the warm tea you'd purposely left out for her. And you'd even watched as she laid her head back against the couch before rubbing at her temples. All you had wanted to do was to pull her into your arms and convince her to let you look after her. But you hadn't, despite how much it had pained you to do so.

With a quiet exhale, you make your way properly into the room and sit down on the opposite side of the couch. Due to the fact that she was still so enthralled with the TV, you're able to give her a quick once over without her noticing. She appears okay, you think to yourself as you watch her scribble something on her notepad. A little sleepy maybe, but that was to be expected after a long day at training. But despite your longing for that to be the truth, you knew for a fact that it wasn't.

Alexia was amazing at hiding the fact she was sick. The last time it had happened was almost six months ago, and you'd been none the wiser until Mapi had snitched on her one night after training.

Alexia had cursed at her. Mapi made a sarky comment in response and whilst the two of them had chased each other around the house yelling obscenities at each other, you'd been left to sit on the couch trying to figure out just how you'd been so oblivious. There were no signs. No symptoms. She went to work, slept and ate fine and was still her usual stubborn self at home with you. In the end, it taken Ingrid comforting you to realise you weren't at all oblivious and Alexia was simply just really good at pretending to be okay.

It tells you now that despite the nonchalance she was currently displaying on the outside, beneath the surface was an completely different story that for some reason she doesn't want you to see.

It wasn't that she doesn't trust you because you knew for a fact she does. You'd been through way too much together for that not to be the case honestly. It was just how Alexia was, So, so stubborn.

The room goes quiet a few moments later, and you flicker your gaze away from Alexia and over to the tv to see that it was now off. In the reflection of the screen you could see Alexia setting her notepad onto the table along with the remote and pen. You look back at her just in time to see her stifle a quiet sneeze into her the back of her wrist.

"Bless you." You murmur, speaking for the first time in what feels like forever. Alexia does no more than nod with a smile that looks more like a grimace, settling back against the couch with a quiet sigh.

You do no more than watch her for a second before turning around in your seat and holding out your arms. Alexia raises an eyebrow, and you were quick to shrug as you spread your legs, one on the ground and one laid flush against the back of the couch.

Right now, you had no ulterior motives, you just simply wanted to hold her. Seeing the fact that you were being genuine, Alexia crawls over to you and all but collapses against your chest. She curls up on her side, letting out a congested sigh as she secures her arms around your waist with her cheek flush against your sternum.

You wrap your arms tightly around her shoulders, your hand cupping the back of her head as you press a kiss to the top of it and let out a quiet sigh. No words were spoken. They didn't need to be. You both knew for a fact she wasn't feeling all too great but neither one of you were willing to admit it for completely different reasons.

Right now, however, you weren't too concerned. She was allowing you to hold her, to comfort her, and that was way more than she'd done the last time and for that you were incredibly grateful. As you lay there in a comfortable silence, you feel Alexia slowly but surely growing more limp against you. Her breathing slows; her arms loosen, and when you look down, you see that her eyes were now closed.

Not quite knowing if she was completely out for the count just yet, you make sure to keep as still as possible as you trail your hand up and down the length of her back. Her head shifts slightly, now buried into your neck, and you feel more than hear the slightly raspy breaths that hit your skin. It takes a further ten minutes before you were sure she was actually asleep, allowing you to reach for one of the many blankets you kept on the back of your couch before laying it over the both of you.

You tuck it beneath her body, making sure it covered all of her so that only her head was peeking out. Alexia doesn't make a peep as you scoot a little further down the couch so that you were properly laying down, and you sigh a little in relief as you allow your own eyes to close . If she didn't want to admit she was sick, or take any medicine or eat any soup, you were at least grateful she was allowing herself to get some much needed rest.

*

You wake up the next day feeling uncomfortably hot, your skin damp with sweat and your cheeks deeply flushed. There was a heavy weight on top of you, and as you force your eyes open and glance down, you see that it was Alexia and that she hadn't moved a single inch throughout the entirety of the night.

With a quiet groan, you yank off the blanket in hopes it would help cool you down a little. It doesn't, and it makes you realist that it wasn't the blanket that was making you hot, but a very fever induced Alexia.

You take a few seconds to contemplate your next actions before slowly and reluctantly slipping out from beneath her. You land on your knees, soothing Alexia's furrowed brow with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"It's okay. I'll be back." You whisper hoarsely, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you rise to your feet and head through to the kitchen to grab the things you would need to help Alexia feel at least a little better.

You grab a cloth, soaking it with cool water before squeezing out the remanence and placing it onto the counter. You then grab some cold medicine along with some Tylenol, taking a mental note of the dosage Alexia was allowed to have as you carry everything back through to the living room.

Alexia was thankfully still asleep, although now she was laid on her back. Her breathing was so hoarse it almost sounded like snoring, and you can't help but smile slightly as you perch on the end of the couch and place the cool cloth on her forehead. Her brows furrow as her head turns a little to the left, and you place a gentle hand on her chest, rubbing it in gentle circles in hopes it would help sooth her.

It appears to do so, but her eyes do flicker open, her gaze hazy due to her fever.

"Hey, you," You murmur, stilling your hand before bringing it up and gently cupping her cheek. "You're pretty sick."

Alexia simply blinks as she brings a clumsy hand up to try and push off the washcloth on her forehead. You shake your head as you take her hand in your own, giving it a gentle squeeze and guiding it back down to her side.

"No, baby. Keep that on. You have a fever."

Alexia blinks again, her face scrunching up in mild discomfort as she lets out a single, hoarse sounding cough. You wince a little at the sound as you reach for the cold medicine, pouring the allotted dose onto the small plastic cup before holding it to her lips.

"No." She grunts, clumsily trying to bat your hand away. Her efforts prove futile as you move the cup before it could be hit, earning yourself a rather grumpy pout.

"I know," you sooth, reaching up to adjust the wash cloth slightly. "But it'll help you feel better, baby. You know this."

Alexia sniffles before once again shaking her head. She eyes the cup in your hand with a dirty glare, almost as though it was offending her by simply existing. You can't help but laugh a little despite the concern you were feeling.

"Alexia..." you trail off.

"No." She murmurs.

"Baby, come on," You shift a little closer, leaning down to press a kiss to her flushed cheek. The heat the greats you makes you all the more determined to get some medicine into her. "For me, please?" You weren't against begging if that's what was necessary.

Alexia hesitates before letting out a quiet whine. It was evident she didn't quite know what to do. She didn't want to take the medicine, but she didn't want to upset you by not talking it either. She stares at you with a pleading look on her face, her bottom lip quivering just slightly.

"I know," you whisper in understanding. "How about we come to a compromise?"

Alexia's gaze flickers over to the cold medicine you hands before looking back at you, almost as though she was saying anything but that.

"You don't have to take the cold medicine right now, but only if you take some Tylenol to help get rid of that fever." You say, and though Alexia hesitates again, this time she nods her head making you let out an almost silent sigh of relief.

Progress.

"Good girl," You praise genuinely, switching the cold medicine with the Tylenol pills, holding a single one to her lips. Alexia's lips part, and you set the pill on her tongue before helping her swallow it down with some water. "Good job. One more, baby." You assure, repeating the process once more before capping the bottle of water and taking her hand in your own.

Alexia squeezes weakly as she sniffles again, heavy lids threatening to close as she stares up at you with a pleading look on her face.

"What do you need baby?" You ask, trailing the pad of your thumb over the back of her hand.

Alexia wets her dry lips with her tongue as she reaches to loosely grab your shirt. "Cuddle." Is all she says, and though you internally wince about being once again trapped beneath your own personal furnace, you don't hesitate to nod your head as you slip back beneath her in the same position you'd been in before.

Alexia coughs hoarsely as she clings to your shirt, her cheek flush against your chest as her eyes once again slip closed. You use one hand to hold the still cool washcloth to her forehead as the other slips beneath her shirt to trail gentle circles on the too warm skin of her bare back.

"Thank you for letting me look after you." You whisper into her hair as you press your lips against the top of her head in a lingering kiss. Alexia says nothing, but she does crane her head up to press a kiss to your neck although it was more so just a brush of lips against the skin.

"Go to sleep baby. I've got you."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @xxnaiaxx @marysfics @liloandstitchstan

[wandussyfantasy]

request (i hope its still open)

powerbottom!Wanda x Beefy G!P reader

(this is gonna be kinda long and dirty so be prepared)

Reader and Wanda are both college students who have been mutual pining each other, Wanda tells Nat that she likes reader and really wants to get down and dirty with them but doesn't know what to do Nat gives Wanda these chocolates (which is like those sex Viagra chocolate things) and tells Wanda to invite reader over for a movie night and share the chocolate, and that leads to hella sexual tension and they both can't hold it in anymore and fuck, Wanda rides readers abs and also handcuffs reader to the bed and she teases reader a lot and after a while reader just wants to touch Wanda so bad that they break the handcuffs which turns Wanda on even more and they fuck hard, lots of overstimulation and maybe some breeding (also maybe some fluff at the end as well as reader wants to live in this moment forever so reader uses Wanda's polaroid cam to take a pic of her naked and saves it in their wallet)

sorry this is long but if you do decide to write it just have fun with it and add your own stuff as well, love your fics <3

Study Date

Summary: Wanda and Reader have wanted each other for so long. Natasha, being the good friend that she is, helps the two speed things along and realize just how much they want each other.

Pairings: Wanda x NB!AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,767

WARNINGS:

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!

smut, gn!reader shapeshifter, powerbottom!lwanda, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, fantasies, teasing, foreplay, and creampie.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

“Hey Wanda, I noticed you weren't in class today. I thought I'd lend you my notes,” you say as you hand the pretty girl from your expository writing class your notebook. She smiles as she accepts your offering. 

“Awe, you're so sweet! You didn't have to do that! Thank you, I'll type this up and get it back to you as soon as possible,” she says. You smile back and tell her to take her time. The conversation falls flat but you don't want to stop talking to her. You stand there awkwardly as you try to think of something to keep the conversation going. Wanda was doing the same, she didn't want you to leave. She wanted to keep talking to you. She always wants to talk to you. “Hey, I heard there is going to be a party this weekend. My brother is hosting it so I'm going to be there and so will other people. Because it's a party! And that's how… anyway are you going?” Wanda asks nervously as she fiddles with the notebook in her hands. Natasha tries her best to not be repulsed by Wanda’s bad attempt at asking you out. She had no idea that her friend was crushing so hard on someone, let alone you. 

“Nah, I have a lot of studying to do,” you reply without giving the invitation much thought. “Maybe another time? This semester has been kicking my ass and I might lose my scholarship if I don't get my grades up.” You admit as you shift on your feet awkwardly. 

Wanda frowns and looks hopeless. Natasha rolls her eyes and then cuts in. “Wanda is a fantastic tutor,” she says. “Maybe you should ask her to tutor you,” she spells it out for you when all you said was cool. 

“I mean. Um. Would you have time to? I would really appreciate it,” you say as you gesture at Wanda. 

“Uh,” she looks at her friend.

“She is available tonight,” Natasha offers up. “I have plans so she’ll be alone in the dorm.” Natasha scribbles down information on a piece of paper and hands it off to you. “Let’s go,” she grabs Wanda and pulls her away. 

“See you later!” You shout at them as they leave. 

Natasha shakes her head as they continue to walk away. “That was pathetic,” she says to her friend. “I know you’re new to flirting but,” she starts as she opens the door for their dorm building. “That was not flirting. That was just… sad.” 

Wanda shakes her head, “I know. I know. I’ve never liked anyone the way I like Y/n before. I want them in ways that I’ve never wanted anyone before.” She presses her palm to her forehead as she blushes.  

“Like, losinging your v-card type of want?” Natasha’s eyes widen as her voice lowers while they walk to the elevators. “You hardly wanted to lose it to your Vision! And you were with him for three years!” 

“I know!” Wanda says as they enter the elevator. “But gosh, there is something about Y/n that has me,” she stops as someone enters the elevator. She puts her hand on Natasha’s shoulder and sends her a mind message to continue the conversation privately. “I’ve had several wet dreams about Y/n since I saw them running around the track field shirtless.” 

Natasha looks at Wanda with wide eyes and thinks, “They had their titties out on the field?” 

Wanda shakes her head. “No, they have a shapshifting ability. It’s why they prefer they/them pronouns because they can shift their physical appearance to how they feel they that day. And that day it was a male chest and it was strong and sweaty and-”

“Ok! I don’t need to know anymore. But that is quite an ability, I’m sure a lot of gender nonconforming people would love to have an ability like that.” She said out loud as they stepped out of the elevator. Wanda agreed. 

“I think they can do more but I could hardly focus. I started to imagine the possibilities and I was just happy mind reading isn’t one of their abilities.” Wanda says as they enter the dorm. 

“I’m glad it’s not an ability of mine either,” Natasha says as she opens the mini fridge. She flips through the different types of chocolate bars that she owns and smiles when she finds the one she it looking for. “I’ve been saving this for a rainy day and honey, it’s getting pretty cloudy.” She hands the chocolate bar over to Wanda. 

“Oh, I’ve been craving chocolate all day!” Natasha stops her roommate from eating the candy.

“Woah, not so fast. Wait for your date tonight. Share it with Y/n,” she suggests. 

“Why?” Wanda makes a weird face as she tries to figure out what is special about the unlabeled candy. 

“Just trust me,” Natasha quickly puts on a special bracelet that prevents anyone with telepathic or empathic abilities from entering her mind and she smiles as she flashes it at Wanda. “The less you know, the better.” She starts to gather her belongings. “I will be out all night. I gave Y/n your phone number so you should be receiving a text or something soon.” She looks around the room to assure herself that she has everything she needs. “Good luck, Wanda. I hope it all goes well. Just please don’t use my bed.” 

Wanda rolled her eyes at the bracelet and smiled at her friends departing words. The hug each other, “Thank you.” Natasha leaves the room. Wanda flops onto her bed as she waits for you to text her. She thinks about the times she’s seen you half-naked and sweating. How she’s wished to have your body on top of hers. Wanda bites her bottom lip as she fights the urge to slip her fingers between her legs and imagine that they are yours. 

Her phone pings with a notification and she springs up to look at it. It’s you asking what time you should arrive. She licks her lips she tries to make a flirty response but she ends up cringing at everything she types. She settles on just telling you to meet her an hour from now and flops back onto her bed with a sigh. She needed to get it together because in anhour you would be in her room and you needed tutoring. And some how she needed to work in sharing the mysterious chocolate bar with you. 

Wanda changed into something a little more suggestive and flashed on a set of lingerie underneath, just in case she became brave enough to try something with you. She cleaned up the room a bit and lit a candle that was enchanted to keep sound in any room that it was lit in. She doesn’t know why but she has a feeling she’s going to get her way and she won’t be quiet about it when she does. 

“Smells nice in here,” You say as you enter Wanda’s room. She shuts the door behind you. 

“Thank you, it’s a new candle I made. I kind of got into the trend,” she says sheepishly as she stands behind you. There wasn’t room for a sofa in the dorm room so there isn’t one. There was only beds and desk chairs as seating options. “You can sit at my desk,” she points to the desk that is between the beds. 

“Thanks,” you say with a blush, “Um, if you’re selling your candles, I would love to buy some from you.” Wanda’s cheeks flush bright pink as well as she sits on her bed. 

“I think I have a couple that I can gift you,” she smiles as she gets comfortable. “Alright, so what subject are we starting with?” She asks as you are pulling assignments out of your bookbag and setting them on her desk. She looks at the chocolate bar that was left on her bed and tries to think of how she can offer it to you without it seeming weird. 

“Um chemistry has been brutal,” you say as you organize yourself. You try to keep your eyes on the work in front of you because her shirt was tighter than the one you saw her in a couple of hours ago. It was hard enough to be around her when she had loose fitting clothing on. Now that it was accentuating her chest, you thought you might pass out. 

“Chemistry happens to be my strongest subject!” Wanda says as she leans over to look at your papers. She quickly gets into helping learn the formulas that you struggled with as well as a lot of the vocabulary that you had mixed up. Deep into the study session, Wanda starts to mindlessly break off pieces of the chocolate bar and eat it. 

You accept the pieces that she offers and by the time you've moved onto math, the chocolate bar is gone. You start to feel even hornier than when first walked in but you try to focus on the subject.

“It's kind of hot in here,” Wanda says as she fans herself with her hand. She doesn't know why but her body is on fire. Her clothes feel horrible on her skin but she can't take it off. Not with you here. Oh but she wishes she could convince you to take your clothes off. 

“Yeah, it um it is,” you shift uncomfortably as your eyes land on her glistening chest. Wanda’s eyes are glued to your chest as well. The sweat on your body was causing the white fabric of your shirt to become see through. The shirt was clinging to your abs, exposing your six-pack. “Maybe I should um-” 

“Fuck me,” Wanda gasps out as she bites her lips. “I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from I-” You cut her off with your lips. Finally kissing her after spending the past few years pining for her. Wanda responds to the kiss just as eagerly. She pulls on your shirt to pull you closer to her until you land on top of her. Your body against hers on her bed. She couldn't think of anything but your lips and your body. She needs you. She needs you now. 

“Are you sure,” you try to slow down your kisses. “We can stop at any moment,” you say as you try to catch your breath. Her lips start sucking on your neck and you let out a soft loud groan. 

“Why would I want to do that?” She says as she rips your shirt in the middle. You are surprised by her urgency. You didn't know that Wanda even liked you. “Wow,” Wanda gasps as she admires your naked chest. She unhooks your bra and her eyes grow hungrier at the sight. You get rid of the rest of the fabric of your shirt and toss it to the floor. You roll off of Wanda and lay next to her to start to get rid of your pants. You had most of your abilities down but when it came to sexual urges, there was one thing you couldn't control completely. That was the cock that is currently growing and will soon be straining against your jeans. 

But before you can unbuckle your belt, Wanda climbs onto your chest and kisses you on the mouth again. “I have an idea,” she says against your lips as she holds your face in her delicate hands. 

“Mmm, please share,” you say as you kiss along her jaw. She maneuvers you so that you are laying properly on the bed. Then with magic, she chains you to the bed. Wanda removes her tight shirt and short shorts to reveal the red lace bra and the black thong. Your eyes widen at her lingerie. You never thought in your wildest dreams that you would be here. 

Wanda straddles your hips and you groan at the contact of her skin against yours. Her thighs rest against your sides. Her pussy juices drip through her thong and land on your stomach as she starts to gyrate her hips on your abs. You watch her breasts bounce as she moves on your abdomen and you lick your lips as you think about touching her. About sucking on her breasts. Licking her smooth stomach. Wanda puts her hand on your breasts as she continues to use your abs to create friction. You moan as she plays with your nipples. She makes eye contact with you as she leans in close to you. She makes you think she's good to kiss you but then her hips slide down and her pussy starts to ride your bulge as her lips kiss your neck. 

“Fuck” you his as her lips move to your collarbone. She sucks on your skin lightly as she makes shapes with her tongue. You imagine her sucking your cock and it causes you to thrust your hips into her middle. She yelps and looks at you. Her pupils have taken over her emerald eyes as she takes your breast into her mouth. “Wanda,” you beg as you thrust your hips up again. She takes her mouth off of your chest as she sits up again. Teasing you by slowly removing her bra. You groan again as you fight against your magical restraints. When her breasts are exposed, Wanda drops her hands to your belt. She unbuckles the accessory and unbuttons your jeans. She pulls your zipper down and stops there. 

Wanda drags her fingers at the top of the waistband of your boxers. She is driving you crazy. When she slips her fingers into your boxers you can't take it anymore. With your super strength, you break the magic handcuffs off and grab Wanda and flip the two of you so that you're on top. “That was hot,” Wanda says as she kisses you again. 

You get lost in her lips as your hands touch her everywhere. You have them on her hips then on her breasts then on her ass. Her skin is so soft and you want to touch every inch of her. You begin to suck on her neck as you move to explore her body with your lips. She sighs and moans when you reach especially sensitive spots on her body. Her hands continue to trace the ridges of your chest. You drop her breast from your mouth and grin. “You like what you feel?” 

Wanda blushes as she grows a bit shy. “I’ve been dreaming about them,” she says with pink cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just want to appreciate them while I have them.” She reaches up and kisses your neck. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she starts to suck on your neck again. Her hands start to trail further down your body. She starts to push your pants and underwear further down until your cock bounces out. You moan from the relief. Her eyes widen at the sight. Her ex-boyfriend was a super computer that looked like a Ken-doll in the private area. She’s only seen dicks online and none of them come close to what is laying against her stomach. She couldn’t imagine how it was supposed to fit inside her virgin hole. She is surprised that fear isn���t controlling her nearly as much as it has in the past. But she can’t keep the thought as you roll your hips and the base of your cock grazes her clitoris just right. Her lips latch to yours again. You are typically someone that likes to take it slow but something has your body buzzing with energy and taking over your actions. 

Wanda’s hand wraps around your cock and you roll your hips into her soft hand. You have imagined her jerking you off before. It was in a car or in a closet or at a movie and it was always after or during a date. It wasn’t this fast, or this amazing. Your hand doesn’t compare to hers. You have to pull away as you feel yourself near your edge. 

“I’ve dreamt about you too,” you whisper against her lips. You fall lower on her body until your head is between her thighs. You kiss her left thigh first then her right. Wanda wimpers each time your lips press against her thighs. With your tongue you trace letters along her thighs claiming her as yours. “I’ve wanted to be in this position since I saw you at the freshman mixer,” you admit as you drag your tongue along the crevice between her thigh and vulva on her right side. “But you were taken for two  more years after that.”  You lick the left side and Wanda licks her lips as she watches you tease her. 

“Now I’m yours,” she says desperatley, “I’m all yours.” Her fingers lock into your short hair as she pulls you closer to her pussy. “Show me your deepest desires, Y/n.” You nod as you put your mouth on her entrance. You slip your tongue inside of her and use your abilities to have a deeper reach. Wanda’s eyes widen at the sensations as she feels your tongue wiggling inside of her. You feel a wall as you extend your tongue further and your eyes widen as you shrink your tongue to it’s normal size. 

You pull away and ask, “Are you a virgin?” Wanda grows shy again and tries to hide her face in her pillows. “It’s okay to be it’s just, are you sure you want to… with me… like this?” You say as you crawl up her body and remove the pillow from her face. “I just don’t want you to regret your decision later if there are reasons you waited this long,” you tell her softly. 

Wanda gazes into your eyes and takes your hand and brings it close to her. She kisses the palm of your hand as she holds eye contact and then places your hand over her heart. “I'm sure,” she answers softly. Then she pushes you back so that you lay on the bed. She pulls your pants and boxers all the way off and tosses them behind her. “I want you so bad right now, Y/n. I've wanted you for a long time.” She says as she moves her hands up your thighs until they meet in the middle to give attention to your cock again. She kisses the tip of your penis. Her soft plush lips send shivers down your spine just before she wraps them around the bulbous head. Your head falls back as she deep throats your cock. Taking as much as shee can down her throat without gagging. You’ve never seen that before. You can’t believe it. Wanda removes her mouth and you lift your head back up to watch her. “I don’t have a gag reflex,” Wanda smirks. You make a confused expression and Wanda giggles. She taps her temple, “Mind reader.” 

You sit up on your elbows, “Hold on,” you stop her from sucking your cock again. “You’re telling me that you’re more than a witch?” You shake your head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry for what you saw today. I promise, I like you for more than-”

“No, I don’t… I didn’t read your mind earlier. I,” she crawls up your body and sits on your chest again. She holds your face as she tries to explain her abilities. “I don’t like to know what other people are thinking so I take something that decreases my ability to read peoples minds. I can only read your mind when I’m touching you. I wasn’t doing that earlier,” she explains. 

A slow smile graces your lips. You move your fingers a long the length of her arms. “Does that mean you’re seeing what I’m thinking about now.” You take the palm of her hand and press your lips against her soft skin. The hitch in her breath is enough to let you know that she can see exactly what you intend to do with her tonight. “And what do you think?” 

Wanda leans in close to your lips and whispers, “I already told you to show me your deepest desires. So stop stalling.” She meets your lips in a slow, deep, kiss. Every time she kissed you she felt the effects of something grow stronger. She couldn’t place where it was coming from but she has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with that chocolate that Nathasha was being so weird about. It didn’t matter anymore. She was so close to having exactly what she wants. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you say with a raspy voice as you kiss her back. You move your hands down her body and rip her thong off of her. You aim the tip of your penis at her entrance and slip just the tip in to tease her as the two of you continue to kiss. You pump in her softly, slowly stretching her out with your girthy cock. Wanda’s mouth falls open as you slip inside her previously untouched walls further. You move your kisses from her lips to her cheeks then to her neck. Her hands move from your face to your shoulders as she helps you lower her further onto your throbbing rod. Her nails start to dig into your skin and it causes you to lose control of your thrust as you break her hymn in one strong thrust. 

“Holy shit,” she gasps. “I can feel you,” she says as you lick the sweat off from her collarbone. “You’re stretching me,” she moans as you thrust further into her. “I’m so full with your cock,” she continues and you groan as you bring her breast into your mouth. You get the full length of your dick inside of Wanda’s tight walls and you nearly bust a nut from how amazing she feels around you. “It feels so good,” she says while she moves her hips. You smile with your mouth full of her boobs. Then you drop it with a plop as you grab her hips.

You begin to pump inside of Wanda and fuck her as hard as you can. She is shocked by the pleasure she is feeling from such force but she is far from complaining about it. “Yes!” She screeches out as you pound her pussy with your thick meat. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She pulls you closer to her by wrapping her both arms around you. “Fuck you’re in so deep! Oh fuck! It’s so good! Fuck me Y/n! Fuck me!” She shouts as she continues to ride your cock while your hips slam into her. 

Your thrusts get so erratic that your cock slips out of her hole and you have to stop your hips from moving. You flip the two of you so that you are laying on top of her before you enter her again. “Ah fuck your pussy is so good, Wanda,” you moan as you enter her tight wet walls that is gripping your dick and pulling you further inside of her. “I’ve never done it raw before. Oh my gosh this feels amazing!” You say as rock your hips into Wanda. The sensitive skin on your penis is feeling every inch of her and you can’t believe any of this is real. 

“I’m so close,” Wanda gasps as her nails start to dig into your back. You didn’t know that you’d enjoy that feeling as much as you do. It drives you to speed up your thrusts again as you rub her clitoris with your thumb. 

“Cum for me,” you tell her and watch as her eyes roll back and her chest arches up into yours and feel as her walls squeeze the life out of your cock as if her body was trying to milk you. She screams out as she rides the waves of her orgasm. You don’t stop playing with her clitoris even after her body falls limp. 

“Don’t stop,” she says as she enjoys the over stimulation. You continue to rub her bundle of nerves while you pump your cock into her. 

“I’m, fuck, I’m close,” you warn her. “Don’t, mphm, worry. I’ll pull out,” you grunt out as you start to slow down your thrusts. That’s when Wanda’s legs wrap around your waist and lock you in. “Wanda what are you-” 

Wanda pulls you into a deep kiss. She dances her fingers along your jaw as you try to pull away. “Cum inside me,” she whispers. You head starts to shake but the request is too delicious that your eyes roll back as your cum starts to flow out of you and flood her pussy. “Mmm I can feel you pulsing inside of me,” she says as your cock empties inside of her. When you stop erupting, you try to pull out but Wanda shakes her head. “Not yet,” she says, “I don’t want to feel empty just yet.” You nod as you keep the two of you connected and sigh as you lay your head on her naked chest. Your limp body laying on top of hers. She is combing her fingers through your sweaty hair. “That was amazing,” she kisses your forehead. 

You give her a lazy smile with your eyes still closed, “It was. I wish we could live in this moment forever.” 

“I’ll allow it,” she responds softley. “But you’ll have to promise that you won’t want to be with anyone else.”

You make a face, “That’s an easy promise.” You lean up and kiss her cheek. “There is no one I’d rather be with.” You grab her hand and lay it on your chest over your heart. “You can even scan my mind. Sure, I’ve slept with people in the past. But I’ve always wanted to be with you. No one has ever invaded my mind the way you have.” 

Wanda bites her lip and sighs. “I don’t have to search your mind. I trust you.” She kisses your lips. 

After an hour of laying in her bed, connected to each other, you eventually pull out of her. Some of your cum flows out when you do and Wanda catches some on her fingers. She sucks them clean and you almost get hard again. But you manage to control yourself since you’re no longer under the influence of whatever you were under. You grab her polaroid camera from the top of her dresser and you point it at her. She gets shy and pulls some of her sheets over her body. She covers her face with her long light brown hair and you snap a picture. You wave it to help develop the image even though you know it doesn’t really do much. 

You smile as you look down at the image a year later when you’re getting ready for your wedding. You put the image in your wallet again and it’s still there when you’re racing Wanda to the hospital to deliever the babies. You glance at it when you’re sitting with her in the nursery as you remember the first time you got to have the most wild sex with Wanda and think about how the chocolate her best friend gave her led to all of this. Natasha confessed to what she did in her maid of honor toast. You have it with you on your tenth wedding anniversary and show it to Wanda during the special dinner. She blushes as she remembers how things used to be before the two of you became parents. Although she still made enchanted candles, the Tommy and Billy were quite disruptive with nightmares and bedwetting. It made moments that the two of you wer alone long enough to have sex that much more special. 

“You still have this?” Wanda asks as she was looking for cash to pay the pizza guy for the twins fifteenth birthday party. 

“Babe, I will carry this in my wallet until the day I die,” you tell her and give her a sweet kiss before running the pizza boxes over to the insatiable teenagers. Wanda paid the man and smiled to herself as she admired her younger form. She kept herself quite fit and so did you, but she couldn’t help but think that some areas were tighter in the picture than they’ll ever be again. She puts it back into your wallet so that you can keep your promise and you do. 

The End.

[cherienymphe]

Like Mother, Like Daughter (Damon Salvatore x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, compulsion, blood, mentions of MURDER, abusive relationship, secret relationship, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies ​

summary: You never imagined that you would find solace in the bloodstained hands of a murderer.

~

“What is that?”

Elena’s concerned tone reached your ears as you worked on your assignment, and you curiously lifted your head. This semester was kicking your ass more than you’d anticipated, so you were hellbent on finishing as many assignments as quickly as possible. You paused your scribbling to follow her line of sight, and your own gaze landed on the dark bruise on your arm.

You blinked at it, silent for a moment before the memory came back to you.

“Oh,” you breathed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t paying attention the other day and my arm got slammed in the door.”

You waved off her concern, reluctantly looking back down at the paper in front of you.

“I was trying to rush and carry a load of laundry in the door.”

The brunette didn’t respond to that, just humming, and you got the feeling that she was skeptical.

“You should probably put something on that…”

You looked up at her, meeting her eyes with a soft smile.

“Okay, mom, I will,” you chuckled.

You were a year older than Elena—a year older than most of your friends actually—but Elena always acted like she was the one older than you. Calling every day to see how school was going, reminding you to eat something when you got too invested in your work, telling you to bring a jacket whenever you went out with them. You loved her for it, especially since your own mom wasn’t around to do that, but sometimes you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Make fun of me all you want, but it just looks serious is all,” she told you.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” you replied, sending her a reassuring smile. “It’ll be gone by next week, anyway.”

Before she could say anything else on the matter, her doorbell rang. Your smile grew as her face lit up, and you shook your head to yourself. You weren’t going to fault her for being so head over heels for Stefan Salvatore. He was handsome and sweet and the kind of boyfriend that any girl would ask for.

“Do you want anything from The Grill?” she asked you, sliding her arms into her jacket as she stood.

“No, thank you.”

You only spared her a brief glance, eager to finish your work as you heard her answer the door. Her excited greeting was cut short, however, and you lifted her head at her sigh. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the irritated tone wasn’t hard to miss, and you were unsurprised when a familiar dark-haired man rounded the corner, food dish in hand.

Now, it was your turn for your face to light up, unable to bite back the smile that fell over your lips.

Damon Salvatore struck you as one of the prettiest men you’d ever seen from the first moment he’d breezed into town. He was the opposite of Stefan in almost every way, and you hadn’t blamed a single girl for momentarily losing her sense of self over the man. Looks aside, he was charming and funny and shockingly sweet when he wanted to be.

You wouldn’t be dating him otherwise.

As your train of thought shifted, you forced your smile to drop just in time for Stefan and Elena to round the corner. Damon could be difficult, you’d witnessed that yourself, and Elena, the girl who was like a sister to you, would never approve of you dating the oldest Salvatore. She swore he was the devil incarnate, but you thought that she worried too much.

The small smirk he threw you over their shoulders made your stomach twist.

“…and you just had to bring that by for the Founder’s Party today.”

Elena sounded less than enthused with his presence, halfheartedly telling him where he could set it. You kept your eyes on your homework, unable to ignore the tension in the air. You knew that he and Stefan didn’t get along, but you always felt like that was a sibling thing, something that Elena didn’t need to take on herself.

“He’s just not a good guy,” she’d told you one day when you asked about it, a look in her eyes that told you she wouldn’t be elaborating.

“Look, Damon, we really don’t have all day,” you heard Stefan breathe.

It was clear that they had no intention of leaving while Damon was still here, and you kept your head down.

“You two lovebirds go on ahead,” he told them, tone mirthful. “I need to talk to dear old Aunt Jenna about the Founder’s Party.”

You heard him take a bite of something Jenna had cooked earlier, the leftovers on the stove, and when you glanced up again, it was just in time to see Elena glance at you. She didn’t look the most enthused to just ‘go on ahead’, and her and Stefan exchanged a look.

“Alright… Y/N, you’re almost done, right?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that she just wanted to confirm you’d be leaving soon. Or more importantly, that you wouldn’t be in Damon’s presence for long.

“Yeah,” you reassured her. “Just two more essay questions to go.”

She nodded at that, glancing at Stefan’s brother one last time before reluctantly leaving. Stefan did the same, telling you they’d see you later before they both left. You straightened, heart skipping a beat as you smiled. You opened your mouth to speak when Damon held a finger up, slowly chewing with a tilt of his head, almost like he was listening…waiting.

“God,” he dramatically dragged out after some time. “I thought they’d never leave.”

You couldn’t hold in your chuckle, and you watched him as he slowly made his way to the table.

“You like riling them up,” you accused.

“Me?” he wondered, touching his chest as he neared you. “…and why would I ever do a thing like that?”

Damon bent over you, slowly and torturously, before his nose touched yours. Your grin widened just as his lip brushed yours, a kiss soon to follow. His fingers brushed your own as he rested his hand on the table, and your lashes fluttered when he deepened the kiss. You’d only been seeing Damon for a few months, but oddly enough, it felt like forever.

It scared you sometimes how strong your feelings were for the oldest Salvatore brother.

They seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Sill choosing collegiate duties over me?” he murmured into your mouth, and you pulled away.

“I have to get this done,” you sadly told him. “I only have the weekend to do it, and a good four hours of that is spent driving home and then back to school.”

You returned your eyes to the paper in front of you just as you felt Damon’s finger trail across your neck.

“I thought you needed to speak with Jenna about the party,” you murmured, a smile on your lips.

“I lied,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear. “You’re way too smart for college if you ask me. Highly overrated.”

You blinked up at him with a frown as he made himself comfortable on the edge of the table.

“You went to college?”

There was some disbelief in your voice, and for good reason, it seemed.

“I’ve been on a college campus, yes,” he answered, arms crossed over his chest.

You couldn’t hold in a laugh at that.

“I’m serious. You have to drive back and forth every weekend just to see me, and I don’t like it.”

There was little humor in Damon’s voice, now, and you gave him a small frown.

“That’s not always true,” you argued. “Sometimes you come to see me.”

He didn’t join in when you chuckled at your bad attempt at humor, and your brows knitted together at the feel of his hand on the place where your neck and shoulder met. He gently kneaded into the skin there, and you slowly looked up at him again. Damon’s expression was serious, pink lips pressed together as he looked between your eyes.

“I miss you when you’re away…”

Guilt ate at you.

“I know,” you whispered. “I miss you too.”

Damon’s tongue darted between his lips, and you watched as he tilted his head to the side, regarding you with a look you couldn’t place. The air between you felt odd…off, and Damon heaved a sigh before leaning in to press his lips to your forehead.

“You’re kidding, right?”

You softly exhaled, pointedly keeping your eyes on your suitcase as you unpacked. You made the mistake of glancing up, meeting Bonnie’s worried gaze as she sat on your bed before her eyes flickered up to Elena over your shoulder.

“I really don’t want to talk about this, okay?”

“You come back to Mystic Falls in the middle of the week unannounced, and when we ask what’s up, you say you’re dropping out of college…and we’re not supposed to question that?”

Elena sounded beside herself, and you ignored them both as you moved to hang some clothes up.

“Y/N!”

“What do you want me to say?” you wondered, facing them both with a frown, throwing your hands up. “It just didn’t feel right, okay? The campus, my major, all of it. I just didn’t feel right being there.”

You noted how robotic your words came out, but it was the truth.

“Plus, the driving back and forth was getting to be too much. I missed being home all the time.”

“Maybe you’re just going through a rough patch,” Bonnie told you. “It happens, but that’s no reason to drop out.”

“I already did,” you argued, grabbing more stuff out of your suitcase. “It’s done.”

Fed up, the straight-haired girl made her way over to you. She roughly grabbed your hands, halting your movements as she forced you to face her. Elena’s eyes were wide and confused as she looked at you, as if trying to see inside of your mind.

As if she didn’t believe you.

“You hear how crazy this sounds, don’t you? This isn’t like you!”

You pulled your hands out of her grip, huffing and continuing to unpack. You could feel both of their eyes on you, and it was hard to ignore, you had to admit.

“What does your dad think about this?”

You hesitated, pausing in your efforts, and you bit your lip.

“I haven’t told him,” you slowly admitted.

“Since when do you hide anything from him?” Bonnie whispered. “You tell your dad everything.”

“Well, I didn’t tell him this,” you heard yourself snapping.

Silence filled the room again as you went back and forth between your suitcase and the closet, taking clothes out and hanging them up. You could tell that Bonnie and Elena were beside themselves, unsure of how else to proceed with this sudden development. You were only glad that Caroline wasn’t here, positive that you would never hear the end of it.

You were halfway to your closet when Elena stopped you again, her hand on your wrist.

You turned to look at her, but her gaze wasn’t on you. At least, not on your face. Her brown eyes were focused on your wrist, and you looked down, frowning in confusion as to what she was looking at. Her lips parted, a deep frown on her face as she blinked at your wrist. When she lifted her gaze again, there was something in her eyes that alarmed you. She looked almost…worried.

“Where is your bracelet?”

That was the last thing you’d expected, and the question threw you.

“What?”

“Your bracelet. The bracelet I gave you a year ago. The one you promised you’d never take off, where is it?”

You wracked your brain, struggling to remember the last time you saw it. You’d worn it so much that the mere sight of it was inconsequential to you, something you just happened to run your eyes over every day. You hadn’t even realized that it was gone, and you realized that it’d actually been months since you at least remembered looking at it, let alone wearing it.

“I must have…lost it somewhere,” you admitted. “It’s either here or back in my dorm, I don’t know. I have to go back tomorrow to get the rest of my stuff, so I’ll look for it then.”

Elena looked like she wanted to say more, her features pinched in concern, and you went back to unpacking before she could say anything more. You hoped that you’d gotten your point across that the school discussion was over, relieved when they didn’t press the issue further. You’d hear enough lecturing from your dad, you didn’t need it from your friends either.

Damon was the only one happy for you.

“If it didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel right,” he agreed hours later.

Your dad had long gone to bed in anger and confusion, reacting just as you expected he would. You hadn’t hesitated to invite Damon inside when he showed up at your house, leading him upstairs. His hands massaging into your shoulders as you told him you weren’t going back.

“You were right. The going back and forth was exhausting, and seeing you for a few hours every week just wasn’t cutting it.”

Damon’s hand was rubbing patterns into your lower back as he lounged across your bed. You sat on the edge, staring at the window.

“It really wasn’t,” the dark-haired man drawled. “…but now…”

He dragged the word out, pulling you back until you were lying down next to him.

“I can have you all to myself.”

Your back met the bed, and Damon raised himself on an elbow to gaze down at you. You smiled at the thought, Damon slowly returning it with a small curve of his own lips. He ran his blue eyes over you, drinking you in as one hand came up to drag a finger across your mouth. He pulled down on your bottom lip, and you knew what he wanted, parting them for him, and you watched the way his eyes dilated at the sight of the tip of his finger slipping inside.

The look on his face had heat twisting deep within your gut, and Damon deeply inhaled before leaning in. His tongue replaced his finger when his mouth met yours, lips moving against yours in a way that made your head spin and toes curl. Damon’s hands found a home on your waist, fingers pressing into you as he dragged them down your frame.

“You smell so good, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.

He rested perfectly between your legs, and you parted them further to accommodate him. He made a humming sound, like he liked that, and your fingers threaded through his dark strands. Your lips parted when his mouth found a place on your neck, leaving kisses over your skin. You were an adult, now, but having sex in your childhood home with your dad right down the hall was pretty bold…and disrespectful.

“Damon,” you breathlessly murmured.

He gently shushed you, leaning back until his nose brushed yours. Your lashes fluttered, and you swallowed as one of his hands rested on your cheek. His blue gaze held yours, and after some time, it was like that was all you could see. Blue filled your vision…until it didn’t, replaced by black, and your whole body sagged underneath his, more relaxed than you’d ever been. Every single thought in your head was put on halt, taking the backburner with one thought above all else.

You wanted to feel every single part of Damon against you.

The thought guided your movements, a drive within you now to get his shirt off. When he kissed you again, you were the one to deepen it, pressing your fingers against his smooth skin. When your shorts came off, Damon rolled you both until you were on top of him. You were breathless when he pulled your shirt off, and he was quick to pull you back down into a kiss once it was.

A low moan escaped your lips when he pressed open mouth kisses to your neck, forcing your head. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers brushing along his skin as his other hand rested on your hip, rolling them against his. Your heart was racing, blood pumping, and you flinched at the sharp pain you felt in your neck.

Liquid fire coursed through your veins soon after, and you could feel yourself trembling on top of him. His fingers pressed into the back of your neck, and your other hand rested on the one on your hip. It was like a current traveling up your body, steadily moving to one place, and when Damon rolled you both back over, you couldn’t get him inside of you fast enough.

You didn’t even mourn the loss of your underwear.

Your back arched when Damon’s hips connected with yours, his cock fitted snuggly inside of you. The soles of your feet pressed into the bed as he lifted your lower half, holding you tight enough to bruise as he pulled out before thrusting back into you. Your hands reached up towards your headboard, nails scraping along the wood while Damon fucked you.

Your neck was on fire, but you paid it no mind, too preoccupied with the fire between your legs instead. You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the way Damon fucked you, moving your body whichever way he pleased, whichever way suited him and his needs. He treated you like a ragdoll, and you loved it, welcoming the pain and the pleasure.

One of his hands curled around your neck, and you gasped, grasping onto his arm as he leaned his head down. A pinch on your chest, and then you were floating again. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer if that were possible. Damon groaned into your skin, and one of your hands lowered to his hair, twisting your fingers in his locks and holding him to you.

“Damon,” you sighed.

You felt so stretched when he was inside of you, so full, and the feel was addicting. Your hips were lowered back down to the bed, Damon’s teeth still in you, and his hands danced up your frame and to your arms. He grabbed onto them, stretching them out along your bed, fingers dancing over your skin before meeting your own hands, intertwining them with yours.

You were so glad that you didn’t have class in the morning.

The feel of the heated mug warmed your hands, fighting off the biting cold that threatened to overtake you. Caroline’s chatter was a comforting buzz in your ear, but it was background noise at most. Your gaze was focused on nothing, staring ahead with your mind a million miles away. The scarf around your neck was soft, and you absentmindedly reached up to touch it.

“Are you listening?”

It took you a moment to realize that she was talking to you, and you blinked. You looked around, noting that three familiar pairs of eyes were all on you. Guiltily, you frowned, realizing that you had in fact not been paying attention. Caroline looked slightly irritated while Bonnie was staring at you in concern. Elena’s countenance was no different.

“What?” you eventually said.

“Sleepover…at Elena’s…Bonnie’s birthday…?”

You blinked in shock, in disbelief that the date was fast approaching, and you’d forgotten.

“Right, I’m sorry, yeah. I’ll bring the cupcakes,” you told them.

“Are you okay?” Caroline suddenly asked, concern bleeding into her own eyes, now. “You just seem so off lately.”

You looked down at that, no need to look up and confirm that Bonnie and Elena were no doubt in agreement. Ever since you’d dropped out of college, they’d been crowding around you more than usual. Trying to drop by every day—something you almost always had to refuse due to Damon’s presence right upstairs—inviting you along with every outing and even subtly bringing school up in the conversation.

“Yeah,” you eventually told her. “Just tired.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You were tired, you had been pretty often lately, lasting for a day or two at a time before you felt normal again. Caroline seemed to accept that, nodding with a furrow between her brows just as Elena reached into her purse.

“Hey, since you never found your bracelet, I decided to get you a new one…”

You frowned at both her words and the sight of her placing a small jewelry box on the table. Your heart sank at the sight, and you were shaking your head before she finished talking.

“I don’t want anymore jewelry,” you told her to which she frowned.

Elena studied you, tilting her head.

“…but I’m replacing your bracelet.”

She said it slowly, like your words confused her as much as they confused you. You loved jewelry. All of your friends knew that about you, but as you stared at the box, there was a pressing thought in your mind that you didn’t want any more jewelry.

Especially from Elena.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Your phone vibrated in your pocket before anything else could be said, and you looked down at it. A smile graced your face as you read the text, and you carefully started to grab your things.

“I actually have to go,” you told them, gaze resting on Elena. “I appreciate the gift though.”

You were unsurprised when footsteps were quick to echo yours on your way to the door. A familiar voice calling your name gave you pause, and you turned to face Elena, gaze questioning. Her eyes were full of so many things she wanted to say, but she looked like she didn’t even know where to start.

“What’s going on with you?”

You slowly shook your head.

“I don’t follow…”

She rolled her eyes, head tilted.

“You dropped out of college, you barely spend time with us —and when you do you’re barely here—and you’re always running off at a moment’s notice. Now, you won’t even take the bracelet I’m trying to give you? That bracelet was really important-.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I lost it-.”

“No, you don’t get it,” she sighed. “It’s not about you losing it. It’s just really important that you wear it.”

“Why?” you wondered, and that seemed to have stumped her.

Elena ran her hands through her hair, blowing out a breath before coming up short. Her dark eyes lingered on the scarf around your neck, and she stared at it for what felt like too long. Unsure as to what was happening, you turned towards the door.

“Look, if that’s it, I really have to go-.”

“Is that new?”

She was referring to your scarf, and without thinking, you clutched it, tightening it around your throat.

“No,” you told her. “I’ve had it for a while, now. I’ve just never…”

You trailed off when she moved closer, a deep frown on her face as she leaned in.

“What are you doing?”

She paused at your tone, eyes boring into your own, and something passed through her eyes that made you take another step back.

“Take it off,” she suddenly said, voice but a whisper.

“No,” you told her. “I can’t.”

Your words gave her pause, and her eyes widened slightly at what you said specifically. Her hand lowered, and she ran her eyes over you.

“Why not…?”

Now, it was your turn to pause, mind going a mile a minute as you realized…you didn’t know why not.

“I…don’t know. I just know I can’t take it off,” you whispered.

She looked stricken at your words, although you didn’t understand why, and you watched her swallow.

“Y/N, don’t-.”

“I have to go, Elena,” you hurried out, pushing against her hands as she tried to stop you.

You were quick in making your way to your car, not sparing her a backwards glance as you hopped in. Damon’s text was fresh in your mind when you started the vehicle, not wanting to keep him waiting.

You stared into the foggy mirror, eyes roaming over the bite marks on your skin. Damon was just stepping out of the shower behind you, and you paid him no mind, fingers lightly tracing the bruising. Deep within the recesses of your mind, you knew that this was wrong, that the sight before you was very wrong, but you felt nothing less than calm as Damon came up behind you.

“What’ya doing?” he wondered, almost singing the question as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Looking,” you murmured.

“Well, stop that,” he lightly demanded, gently brushing your hand aside.

Damon leaned his chin on your shoulder, humming as he looked at you in the reflection.

“They healed fast before…right?” you softly asked, knowing they had before.

“I gave you my blood before,” was his answer, and you nodded. “I like seeing them.”

Your eyes met his in the reflection as his confession reached your ears. Now, it was his turn to brush his fingers over them, blue eyes darkening the longer he stared at the bite marks and bruises.

“It’s like a mark, you know?” he said in a small voice. “My mark.”

He turned his head, pressing his lips to your neck.

“I really hate sneaking around in your house, you know.”

You frowned at his words.

“Well, the alternative would be the boarding house…and you said I couldn’t tell anyone about us…”

You reminded him of that, turning around in his arms to face him. Damon blinked at the reminder, eyes rolling towards the ceiling as he thought hard.

“Hmm. I did say that, didn’t I?”

He pursed his lips, stroking your face and drinking you in. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his face, enjoying the sight of it and him. Damon seemed to notice, smirking to himself as he leaned in to gently kiss you.

“Yeah, well…that was before, and now you’re mine and you’re not in college anymore, so you can come and live with me.”

His tone was chipper despite the severity of what he was suggesting, and your eyes widened.

“My dad would kill me,” you breathed.

Damon exhaled, a small smile on his pink lips as his hands came down on your bare shoulders. He traced patterns into your skin with his thumbs, and you felt yourself relaxing as you held his gaze.

“You leave your dad to me…okay?”

You slowly nodded, not quite sure why you were agreeing. You were so young, and Damon and you were too new to be moving in together. It seemed insane, but you felt okay with the decision as he brushed his fingers over your face.

“I just worry about him,” you confessed. “Ever since my mom’s death… He’s just always so alone.”

Damon frowned at you at that, blue gaze sympathetic,

“It’s been what…? Twelve years now?”

You didn’t recall ever telling him how long it had been, but you nodded, anyway, heart clenching at the faint memories of a woman you barely got to know. His arms were secure around you as he assured you that everything would be alright. You didn’t doubt that. After all, when it came to Damon, you had perfect love and perfect trust.

Damon had breezed into your life like the wind, and now you couldn’t imagine a life without him. You knew that Elena—none of your friends really—would approve, and you were wholly prepared to never hear the end of it once you moved in together. They would freak out, but Damon had never been anything but good to you.

He never hurt you when he bit you, and the bruises were only from him holding you too tight in bed. He’d been right to suggest dropping out of college. It had been taking up so much time, and you really did hate going back and forth. Something in the far back of your mind was telling you that Damon having so much control over you and your life was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

Especially when he kissed you so passionately and held you so tightly.

Damon touched you like he didn’t ever want to let you go, and you loved it. You loved the feel of his lips on your skin, of his fingers around your ankles, and of his teeth in you. You couldn’t help but to trace the veins that appeared beneath his eyes at the very thought of tasting you. Nothing made you happier than letting him sink his teeth into your thigh while you writhed on your bed, fingers tightly twisting into his dark strands.

There was something entirely other about being a source of satisfaction for Damon in more ways than one.

It was why you weren’t listening to a word Elena said as you packed up your car.

“He is compelling you,” she stressed, eyes wide and tearful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

“Elena, please…”

“You would never just drop out of school! Did he give you that bruise too? The one on your arm?”

“Leave it alone,” you told her, slamming your door closed.

She prevented you from rounding the car, hand tight on your arm. Elena looked terrified as she studied you, taking in the circles beneath your eyes no doubt.

“How long?”

She seemed to be wondering to herself rather than talking to you.

“How long since you ‘lost’ that bracelet? How long since you haven’t been wearing vervain and Damon’s been feeding off of you-?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You pushed past her, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“No,” she argued, trying to pull you out of the car. “Y/N, you can’t. Let me call Stefan, and he’ll make you remember everything-.”

Her words were cut off with a loud gasp, and you sharply inhaled too. A familiar back was before you, Damon standing between you both, and you looked around his shoulder, watching as Elena took a few steps back. Her entire visage was clouded in anger, and she looked at Damon like he was the devil himself.

“What have you done to her?”

Damon tilted his head with a happy hum, reaching back to rest his hand on your waist. He half turned towards you, guiding you to get back in the car. You met Elena’s worried gaze, and she looked like she wanted to take a step towards you.

“What I do with Y/N is, quite frankly, none of your business.”

“Damon…”

He paused at the sound of your voice, briefly turning to look at you with a waggle of his brows.

“It’s alright,” he told you, briefly touching your chin. “I’m just politely telling Elena that our sordid love affair doesn’t involve her or Stefan or anyone else for that matter.”

“This isn’t love! You’re hurting her and keeping her with you against her will,” she spat at him. “What is wrong with you, Damon? Why…? Why her when she’s done nothing to you?”

You grew nervous when Damon grew silent. He took a few steps towards Elena, and when he spoke, his voice was cold, venomous, nothing at all like how he sounded with you in the privacy of your bedroom.

“I wanted her…and so I took her,” he plainly told your friend, and you frowned. “Diagnose me as a killer returning to the scene of the crime or a lovesick fool, pick your poison, but she is mine, and I’ll be damned if I give her up.”

Something about what he said—or how he said it—had Elena’s lips parting, and she stumbled back, looking between you and him in horror. Before either of you could blink though, Damon had closed your door and was already sitting in your passenger seat. Elena was banging on the locked door as he told you to drive, and gazing into his eyes, you were overcome with the urge to do what he suggested.

You slid down onto his cock again, a moan escaping you as Damon’s arms circled your waist. Blood ran down your torso, excess escaping Damon’s mouth as his teeth pressed into your chest. One of his hands came up to smear it along your skin, loving the feel of it against his own skin. You felt like you were floating on cloud 9, fingers tightening in his hair, your other hand pressing into his shoulder.

You hadn’t left Damon’s room in days, having no desire to. All you wanted was to stay in his bed, and Damon was all too happy to let you. Your phone had long been out of sight, none the wiser to any calls and texts you might’ve missed. You didn’t know what Damon said to your dad to make him over the moon with the idea of you moving in with the older Salvatore brother, but you were beyond grateful.

If any of your friends had ever come by, you didn’t know.

You were in your own world with just you and Damon, and you couldn’t be happier. When you came around him, shuddering with broken moans escaping, Damon finally pulled his head away. His lips were covered in blood, and before where the sight of it used to make your stomach turn, you felt no ill will at the red along his lips. You touched his mouth, fascinated by the sight.

He opened his mouth, and when a sharp tooth pricked your finger, fresh blood touching his tongue, he flipped you.

Your chest arched upwards towards the ceiling, nails clawing at the sheets of the feel of him thrusting into you again. His teeth were in your neck, pinning you between him and the bed, and you couldn’t hold in your mewls.

“You taste…divine,” he breathed sloppily kissing you. “Do you know that?”

You weren’t bothered by the taste of blood in your mouth, always so calm and at ease in Damon’s presence. As he lazily plunged his cock into you, thrusts slow and languid, a thought passed through your mind that you couldn’t help but to voice.

“Are you… Are you going to kill me one day?”

You knew what he’d told Elena, and the thought didn’t scare you, but your curiosity got the better of you.

“Kill you?” he lowly wondered, kissing you again. “…and ruin all my fun?”

He smiled into your lips, and you returned it.

“I meant what I said,” he told you, gazing into your eyes. “You’re mine, and I’ll be damned if I give you up.”

That reassured you, and you relaxed beneath him when another question plagued your thoughts. It must’ve been all over your face because Damon brushed his nose against yours.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he whispered, and you searched his eyes.

“When you said…”

You took a deep breath, confusion plaguing your thoughts as you fought to understand his words on your own.

“When you said…a killer returning to the scene of the crime…” Damon took a deep breath. “What did that mean?”

Damon didn’t answer you for what felt like a long time, and at first, you thought he simply wouldn’t. When he moved, you hissed at the feel, and he slowly grabbed your hands, pinning them beside your head. Damon gazed into your eyes, blue turning to black as it filled your vision, and you were completely frozen beneath him, feeling like you were under a spell.

“Twelve years ago…” he slowly started. “I ran into a woman whose car broke down on the side of the road.”

Somehow, you knew what he was going to say, and to your surprise, your heart wasn’t threatening to leap from your chest. You felt so calm, safe beneath him despite the tears that kissed your eyes.

“I killed her, and it meant nothing to me…”

You didn’t blink, and neither did he.

“…but then I came here twelve years later, and I never expected to meet her daughter…and call it guilt or some twisted desire to be a demented monster, but I want you all to myself.”

His hands tightened on your wrists.

“…and you want me too. You love me, and you have never felt safer than when you’re with me.”

“I always feel safe with you,” you mindlessly murmured, your voice sounding foreign to you.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

“…and you would kill yourself before ever letting anyone take you away from me.”

His deep baritone settled in your brain like a warm hug, and you slowly nodded. Learning that Damon killed your mom should’ve terrified you, but he was right. You never felt safer than when you were with Damon, and when he leaned in to kiss you, his lips covering yours, you welcomed it. He slowly let your hands go, and you didn’t hesitate to wrap them around his neck, holding him close.

Your blood was on his lips, and the sight warmed your heart, happy to make Damon happy.

[iamtired10]

lost in equations, found in you

pairing - kim minji x female reader

synopsis - with exams coming up and your temper on edge, minji tries her best to help you through a brutal study session.

genre - fluff (someone plz request angst ;-;)

warnings - strong language, reader losing her temper

a/n - nighty guys, ilysm 💔

— richiesto

you were slumped over the desk, staring at your notebook like it was your mortal enemy.

the equations blurred in front of your eyes, the numbers twisting into shapes that had no meaning whatsoever.

you were beyond pissed.

at this point, your brain was fried.

“fucking... i swear this shit is useless,” you grumbled, aggressively erasing something that, in hindsight, probably wasn‘t even wrong.

from the other side of the room, minji peered at you, her head tilted like an innocent, curious puppy.

“hey,” she said softly, approaching like you were a bomb about to explode. “need some help?”

“Do i look like i need help?” you snapped, though your frustration wasn't really aimed at her.

minji didn‘t flinch—she knew how you got when you were stressed, and today was no exception.

she sat down beside you, her elbow nudging yours playfully. “c’mon, babe. you know i’m the math whiz here. lemme see.”

you glared at the pages, sighing. “if you fix this, i’ll worship the ground you walk on. like, seriously. it’s like these numbers are out to ruin my fucking life.”

minji giggled, reaching for the pencil in your hand.

her fingers brushed against yours, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

for a second, the anger melted into something softer, but you quickly covered it up with more cursing. “goddamn math, i swear.”

“alright, alright. let me take a look,” she said, scanning the equations with a calm that only minji seemed capable of.

you admired that about her—how she never got ruffled, no matter how much you spiraled.

you sat there, fidgeting, the silence gnawing at you as minji scribbled away. you leaned back in your chair, glaring at the ceiling, muttering curses under your breath.

after what felt like forever, minji glanced up, her lips curled into a mischievous grin.

“i fixed it," she said in that calm, almost too-adorable voice that always made you want to punch something soft out of affection.

“fixed it???” you leaned over to see the page.

sure enough, the equation was neatly solved, the steps laid out in her annoyingly perfect handwriting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking.

“HOW?” you nearly shouted, throwing your hands up in frustration. “how do you make it look so easy?!”

minji laughed, her eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that made you melt. “because it’s not that hard, babe. you’re just overthinking it."

“overthinking it?” you repeated, standing up and pacing around the room. “i wish i could overthink it. my brain‘s running on 2% battery, minji. i can’t even think anymore. it’s like—” you waved your arms dramatically—“static up here!”

minji watched you with amusement, leaning her chin on her palm. “you‘re so cute when you’re pissed.”

you whipped around, pointing at her. “don‘t patronize me! this shit‘s hard!”

“okay, okay, i won’t,” she said, but her smile gave her away.

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i see what you're doing, kim minji. you’re trying to distract me with your fucking... cuteness...”

minji just shrugged, the tiniest smirk on her lips. “is it working, babe?”

you huffed, crossing your arms. “no. and stop being cute. i’m mad.”

but minji wasn’t having it.

she got up, walking over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. she rested her chin on your shoulder, her voice soft in your ear. “you‘re stressed, my sweet baby. you need a break.”

“yeah, well, i’ll take a break when this stupid exam is over and i never have to look at a math problem again.”

she tightened her hold on you, swaying slightly. “you’re too hard on yourself, y'know that?”

you sighed, the tension in your body slowly loosening as minji held you close.

damn it, she was too good at this.

“i’m not hard on myself,” you muttered. “i just hate being bad at stuff.”

“you‘re not bad at math,” she said, her voice soothing. “you just need a little more practice.”

“practice? psh, who has time for practice when there’s like a million other things to stress about?”

minji laughed softly, her breath warm against your skin. “well, lucky for you, you’ve got me. i’ll help you as much as you need, okay?”

you let out a long breath, leaning into her. “fine. but if you fix this shit, i’m taking you out for the best ramen in town.”

“deal.” she grinned, kissing your cheek before letting go. “now sit down and let’s get this over with.”

you sat back down, eyeing the math problem like it had personally wronged you.

minji slid back into the chair beside you, her hand resting on your knee as she guided you through the next problem, step by step.

after a few minutes, your frustration began to fade, replaced by the steady rhythm of solving equations together.

minji’s calm voice kept you grounded, and her presence—so close, so comforting—was like a balm for your frayed nerves.

“see?” minji said after you successfully solved another equation. “you’ve got this. you‘re just too quick to doubt yourself.”

“yeah, well,” you muttered, “i guess it helps having the cutest tutor in the world.”

minji’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, clearly flustered. “shut up," she mumbled, but her smile betrayed her.

you grinned, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with math. “seriously, though. i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“fail your exam?" minji teased.

“probably,” you admitted with a laugh. “but at least i’d go down knowing i had the best girlfriend ever.”

minji rolled her eyes, but you could tell she was pleased. “you’re so dramatic.”

“only for you and math, pookie,” you said, winking.

“DON‘T CALL ME THAT!!!”

“too bad, pookie bear!”

maybe the math wasn’t so bad after all.

but even if it was, at least you had minji to get you through it.

a/n - tired :|

[scoops-aboy86]

Crushing (Secret Admirer pt 6)

Steddie Week 2024, July 6: Dizzy / drunken confessions / Crush on You by Bruce Springsteen

Fun fact: there are “sorry”s to correspond with a nat 20. It’s a luck thing, though more reflexive than actually hopeful. 

If you turn 6 upside down it's a 9 and today's the 9th, so I would argue that I am still right on time. 🙃 Anyway, I didn't get to the drunken confession part but it was getting too long, so that can be in the last chapter. Enjoy!

wc: 3034 / rated: T / set during season 3 / also on ao3

Sweet Steve, perfect Steve, golden Steve,

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry SORRY

I cannot adequately express how much I regret hanging up on you. It happened a few minutes ago and I’m already writing this because I can’t call back now, not after that. I can’t believe I even did that, I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid because you were saying all these perfect things? Literally everything I never thought I’d get to hear from anyone ever and then I ruined it. 

(The scribbles in the margins are representative of all the times I stop writing just to explosively cuss myself out for being so chickenshit. It looks messy but I am a mess and it’s all my own doing, made my bed and lying in it etc. etc., if I could mount my own head on a pike right now I would Jesus H. CHRIDJDBBWLSNEVEOALAVSVALAMDBDBXJXLFKENSVAVWUELMFBDUSKANS <— an example and demonstration)

I’m sorry I’m a coward. I’m sorry I started this and can’t seem to follow through, I’m sorry I keep yanking you around when it’s not what you deserve sweetheart, it isn’t at all. You were perfect, do you hear me? I had a whole list of songs planned, but picked that one spontaneously because you weren’t digging WASP and I was thinking about the way you’re so hard on yourself sometimes about the guy you were in high school, even though all high schoolers are idiots. (With how many times I’ve had to repeat, I am an expert on this, obviously largely from personal study and reflection.) You didn’t peak in high school, Steve, because you are a wonderful person right now and that’s what matters. You call yourself a romantic sap but I love that about you, please never lose that. 

With every letter you’ve poured out a little of your soul; it only seems right that I try to do the same to make up for my… everything. 

I’m a guy. I’m gay. I’ve never written that down before so explicitly but it’s true. You were so thoughtful about the whole music thing and trying to show we can have common interests but, to be blunt, unless dick is one of those I don’t think this is going to work out. 

No hard feelings obviously. It’s on me for letting this go on so long without being more honest. This is absolutely no reflection on you and does not make you queer by association. I won’t tell anyone—though if I did I’m not considered credible or trustworthy in this town, believe me. 

If you’ve read this far… I mean, I won’t know unless you tell me, obviously. But it doesn’t have to mean anything other than that you’re a good dude. The only person in my life who knows about me and knows my name is the man who’s more like a father to me than my “real” dad; it’s nothing personal, I’ve just had some bad experiences. Remember that concussion I mentioned? … Yeah, that was courtesy of the ol’ sperm donor. Thought I was over freezing up about it after more than half a decade, but no such luck!

On that note, I need to go… not be a person for a while. Take care. I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P. S. The song you said you liked was Rainbow In The Dark by Dio, off his Holy Diver album. It’s a good album, even if I’ve blown it with you I still hope you check it out sometime. 

Eddie drops the pen over the side of his bed, practically throwing it. He drops the notebook he’d scribbled the letter in to the floor; he’ll tear it out and mail it later. 

Probably. 

Maybe. 

He’ll think about it, once he’s done not wanting to think anything at all. 

~

Dear Secret Admirer,

Are you okay? I can’t call you back, so the best I can do right now is write. I shouldn’t have pushed you again, I keep doing that, like an idiot. 

I was having a nice time

Call back whenever, if I’m there I’ll pick up. Call back tonight even, except I can’t get this in the mail until tomorrow so never mind, but I won’t be mad, I promise. Or you can write to me. Please. At least to be friends, if you’re tired of how I always come on too strong (which is literally what Robin keeps telling me with that damn whiteboard all the time, go figure). And maybe you can tell me more about your music, like that one with the rainbows? I think that maybe you’ve been writing to me so much because maybe you’re lonely too, and I know how much that sucks. 

So, I’ll be here. Whoever you are, wherever, I hope you’re okay. Stay safe. 

— Steve

~

All Steve can think about is how stupid he was, pushing Secret Admirer like that. He hasn’t gotten a letter yet, and genuinely doesn’t know if he ever will again. 

Robin doesn’t ask why he’s quieter than usual during work for the next few days. Dustin returns from Camp Know Where and Steve tells him he doesn’t want ice cream because he has to stay in shape for the ladies, but it leaves the bad taste of a mostly-lie in his mouth. 

Because, oh yeah, breaking news: he thinks Secret Admirer is probably a guy. 

That would explain the adamant secrecy, the way the letters are careful not to suggest one or the other. No matter how embarrassing Steve is, a girl would have less to lose compared to a gay dude being outed in Hawkins. And he knows for a fact there were rumors circulating after Jonathan Byers gave him his first and mildest concussion in ‘83. Rumors about what he’d said, what he’d spat at the guy, all no doubt spread by Tommy and Carol. All his past actions coming together to prove that he can’t be trusted, can’t be confided in, even after everything. 

It’s almost secondary that it doesn’t seem to make a difference to his feelings. He may have fallen for someone who happens to be a guy—so what? It’s better than crushing loneliness. Better than no one caring. Better than being forgotten aside from his douchebag legacy at school and all his parents’ dashed aspirations for his future. 

Then Steve finds himself trapped in a Russian elevator with Robin, Dustin, and Lucas’s little sister (who should absolutely not be here, what the fuck were they thinking) and he just. 

He just regrets never getting to say goodbye. 

~ 

Eddie gets Steve’s letter the day he manages to crawl out of his room long enough to mail his own, checking his PO Box like a nervous tic. He’s absolutely floored by what he reads and screams into his pillow some more because it doesn’t change anything, because Steve wrote it while still not in possession of all the facts. 

After a drive out to Reefer Rick’s to replenish his stash, Eddie does the bare minimum of his regularly scheduled drop-offs. No rest for the wicked, because even the wicked need gas money and shit, but it’s all just halfhearted busy work. 

Then he goes home. Against all common sense and knowing that for the sake of his own heart he probably shouldn’t, he spends the rest of the day trying to call. Every time he punches in the numbers with his heart in his throat, but no one ever picks up. 

~

“Ask me anything,” Robin prods blearily from her stall. “Interrogate me.” 

Steve tries to think through the swimming in his head. “Okay, uh… When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today!”

He almost laughs. “No way. What?”

“When the Russian doctor brought his bone saw out. It was just a little bit though!” 

He can picture her holding one hand up, fingers pinched together to indicate a tiny amount. And, okay, fair. “Yeah it’s definitely in her system,” he mumbles to no one. 

“My turn,” she declares. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve does laugh this time, not because it’s funny but because the question hits him right between the eyes. “Shit, yeah, a couple times. Uh, first was Nancy Wheeler, junior year.”

“Ooooh… She’s such a priss, though.”

“Yeah, turns out, not so much.” He shrugs, even though she can’t see, hands dangling from where his arms are draped over his bare, scraped knees. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t ache—including his stomach and throat now, fucking Russian drugs. 

“Huh.” Robin pauses. “So… who was second?”

Sighing, Steve drops his head back against the metal divider at his back. “That blind phone date I told you about.”

It’s a toss-up as to whether he’s admitting this because of the aforementioned drugs or because he’s just too tired to give a shit anymore. What does it really matter, at this point?

“Really? Wow. Okay, I didn’t realize that got so serious.”

Steve lets his eyes fall closed, despite what is likely his third concussion in almost as many years. “It kind of didn’t, I just got… over-invested, I guess. I don’t know if he’s going to write again anyway.”

“H… he?”

“I think so. It was a secret admirer kind of deal, so I never actually knew, but… every time I brought up meeting in person, things went wrong. And like an idiot I kept doing that, so. I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be over.”

Robin’s hand smacks on the tile floor—gross. “How do you not even know for sure after a phone date? Gay guys still sound like guys, Steve.”

“I know that,” he says, a little stung by her reproachful tone. “I talked and he didn’t, he just played some of his favorite songs for me to see if I liked them. Which I did, some of it. It was like, really hard rock or something, not what I usually listen to—”

“I’ll say, Mr. ‘No, Not My Wham! Cassette!’”

“—but it was okay. There were some really cool guitar parts.”

“And it… doesn’t bother you? That a guy was, uh, hitting on you?”

Again, Steve shrugs. “More writing love letters than just hitting on me, but… yeah. I was in pretty deep by the time I figured it out, but I guess not. Is it my turn to ask another question?”

“Um… Sure?”

He’s not sure why she sounds so nervous, figures it should be obvious what he’s going to ask next. It’s kind of a staple of their friendship at this point. “Who sent me that ice cream cone? The strawberry with rainbow sprinkles?”

Dead silence. 

“Robin?” he asks with a flicker of nerves, because, well. It’s been a long day. (Or two days? He’s lost track of how much time they’d spent underground.) “You OD over there?”

“No… I am alive,” she replies, but in such a quiet voice that it doesn’t really reassure him all that much. 

He shifts, scooting on his ass to get under the divider between them and pop back up on her side. It gives him a wedgie, but that’s the least of his problems. 

Robin wrinkles her nose at him. “Steve, these floors are disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, I’m already covered in blood and probably some puke, so.” He tests his tongue on his bottom lip, trying to decide if the split is still bleeding or if it just stings for the hell of it. “Who was it?”

She bites her own lip, then whispers, “Is it your secret admirer?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure,” he tells her. 

“Okay.” But she’s still hesitating. “Before I tell you… About what I said down there, about Click’s class. I wasn’t staring at you because of you, it… it was because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve blinks, confused by the sudden change of topic. “Who? Mrs. Click?”

Robin shakes her head faintly without breaking eye contact, literally without blinking as she whispers, “Tammy Thompson.”

“But she’s a… Oh. Oooh.” He remembers Tammy. She’d always fawned over him in that class, back when he’d been so busy mourning the way things had gone with Nancy that he hadn’t given her the time of day. “Yeah, I guess I see the appeal. Pretty, perky, blonde… She’s a total dud though.”

Robin gapes at him. “What?”

He waves a hand. “I’d just broken up with Nancy, and she was all over me all the time, dropping these hints about wanting to go out. It’s like she wanted to be a rebound relationship.”

“So? She’s goal oriented!”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone! Also, she wants to be a country singer but she couldn’t hold a tune if someone put it in a bucket for her.”

Sputtering, Robin smacks at his shin, one of the few places he isn’t bloody or bruised. “I will not take this superiority from the guy who’s surprise-crushing on Eddie Munson!” 

Shock zings through Steve like he’s just had his fingers jammed into an electrical socket. “On—really?”

He remembers Munson too. Who wouldn’t? Loud and weird, and the guy had always seemed perpetually on, always bristled like a porcupine. Stalking around campus in a black leather jacket regardless of weather and ripped black jeans. (Dark colors.) That denim vest with all the weird band patches on it. (Music that Steve didn’t know anything about.) Big flashy rings on his fingers, and Steve knows he’s in some sort of band, probably has guitar calluses. (Hands that would give him away at a glance.) Up on cafeteria tables with his Hellfire Club shirt and long hair, taunting the jocks who gave his friends shit. (Nerd, check. Not into sports, triple check. He’s pretty sure the dude had failed gym at least once for refusing to wear gym shorts.)

Literally the last person in Hawkins who should’ve had eyes for King Steve.

“Munson likes me?” Steve can’t feel his face too well, what with the beating he’d taken earlier during interrogation, so he’s not sure if he’s blushing. His voice definitely does something funny on the last word, though. 

“He said not to tell you who it was from because he thought you might toss it if you knew it was from him,” Robin admits. “Which seemed like a reasonable concern at the time, but that’s because I didn’t know—”

But then Dustin bursts in on them. The kid looks frazzled, and from there on out it’s all running and more blood and a monster made out of people and fireworks and death, their bathroom conversation forgotten. 

~

Eddie had given up on calling around the time the fireworks show started over the mayor’s kiss-ass 4th of July fair. Downed a couple beers while trying not to wonder if Steve found a date to take. Is still awake when Wayne comes in from his shift, and wanders out of his room because anything’s got to be better than staring at the ceiling. 

“Starcourt burned down,” his uncle tells him while Eddie moves zombie-like through the motions of making them each a cup of coffee. “Radio said the police ain’t ruling out arson. Drove past it on the way, there’s search and rescue folks crawling all over the rubble lookin’ for survivors.”

After Wayne goes to bed, Eddie tries dialing Steve’s number one more time. 

No one answers. 

~

After much pleading from Robin, and since Steve’s car keys are still god knows where and his parents are out of town, the Buckleys graciously agree to let him stay in their guest room. It’s just as well, Robin insists; with the concussion, someone should be around to check on him every few hours. 

“That’s only for the first twenty-four,” he points out the next day. He knows the drill. 

“I don’t care,” Robin insists. “You took a beating to protect the rest of us. You could have been killed, Steve! I am checking on you every few hours for the rest of my life from now on, just see if I don’t.”

“Please don’t,” Steve groans, but he’s grinning. Despite the way his ribs and head throb, and the dark circle under the eye that isn’t literally still swollen shut, it’s nice to have someone to be normal with—not ignoring what had happened, he’d learned his lesson about that with Nancy, but taking it into account and then going ‘yes and.’  “Or at least make sure to always knock first.”

“Why w—Ew! Never mind, if you’re feeling good enough to make jokes then you’re probably fine, offer rescinded.”

“You’re still gonna,” Steve points out, then knocks back the painkillers she’s brought him. Mr. Buckley’s shoulder surgery prescription, meet two broken ribs, black eye, and recently re-set nose. 

She sits on the edge of the bed, next to the duffel bag of clothes from his house that her mom had driven her to pick up for him. “Yeah yeah, shut up.”

Silence settles over them for a moment while Steve tries to get comfortable. And fails. His ribs really aren’t doing him any favors today. The discomfort is why he’s still in unflatteringly baggy shorts borrowed from Mr. Buckley and a t-shirt Robin had thrown at his head as a joke (and then helped him out on, since he can’t lift his arms that high without wanting to scream) that declares him a fan of Siouxsie and the Banshees. 

He has no idea how to pronounce Siouxsie and is kind of afraid to ask. 

“Sooo,” Robin starts. “Eddie Munson, huh?”

“Uh.” Steve can’t run a hand through his hair with his stupid ribs, not when he’s not running entirely on adrenaline or before the painkillers kick in, so he settles for twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah? I guess so. His letters are… They’re really good, Rob. I kinda don’t know why he keeps writing when my replies are so crappy. Like… I can’t even do them justice trying to explain.”

“Huh.” She waits a beat. “Well, I checked your mailbox, just in case, and there was a hand-addressed envelope that I brought back for you—”

Ribs be damned, Steve lunges for that duffel.

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Hi Pandora!!! Happy birthday!! 🎉🎉🎉Thank you for deciding to share the celebrations with all of us 😊 You've really got me on a Law kick lately with the Meet Cute, so could I get Law with "I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and I can’t stop thinking about you"? Maybe NSFW with fem!reader?

@froggiewrites Froggie, Froggie, Froggie... your time has come! 😂 First of, thank you so much for the lovely birthday wishes! And now... I had so much fun writing this prompt, I do hope you enjoy it! Thank you for participating! ❤️

Source for Pic

Rulebreaker

Word Count: 3036

Tags: Fem!Reader; Teasing; Edging; Power Dynamics; Fluff Ending; NSFW; MDNI;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Law, your captain, is tired of the shenaningans you pull whenever the Heart Pirates land on a new island, so he devises a way for you to follow his rules.

Notes: I couldn't hold on another day. I regret nothing. Though I supose the day will come when I'll leave you guys high and dry (fic-less) for some time 😅 Anyway, this is not that time, so please, enjoy this meal!

|Masterlist|

“For the umpteenth time, Law! I know! Now give me a break!” Logic never has been your forte. Thinking on your feet, damn right! Making hard decisions under stress, bring’em, baby. Endurance, the best at it! But logic? No.

So is it logical to argue with your captain after having disobeyed his orders yet again? Not in the least. And damned if there aren’t more than one reason not to lose your patience with him, way more than one, actually. First, you are in his office, second, he’s your superior, third, he’s your boyfriend. But fourth, and the most important one, there’s no getting away from Law if you make him snap. Literally. He’d shambles you from anywhere. 

Still, despite the violence with which your heart is hammering in your chest, your bravado remains in place, as you hold the stare with which his amber eyes pin you, not even flinching. 

“You know?” His voice is clipped as he leans back in his chair, fingers entwined and resting beneath his chin. Fuck, he’s pissed. “You claim to already know, but as soon as we land on another island, the first thing you do is get into trouble.”

“I don’t go looking for trouble, trouble finds me!” You say, trademark smirk in place before the little voice in your head starts to whisper in your ear. You’re going to regret pissing him off…

“That’s cute.” Is it? Because he’s not even close to being amused. 

“I know, that’s how you found me. You were the trouble, and you were drawn to me.” There. That has to placate some of his anger, right?

He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment as if pondering his next move. Then, he reaches for one drawer of his desk and removes an envelope. Curiosity nips at you while you angle your head, trying to see what he’s holding, but instead of hiding it, Law gets up, hands you the envelope, and walks to the door. 

What the hell? You open it and reach for a piece of folded paper as you hear the distinct click of the door being locked. “Am I supposed to read this?”

“Yes.” Clipped, curt, cold. You really pissed him off. 

The scribbled handwriting is a dead giveaway that this was written by Law, but knowing him for over a year, and being involved for half of it, you’re quite familiar with it by now. The letters on top instantly turn your curious look into a scowl. “Rulebook?” 

Law sits again and smirks softly, a barely-there twitch of the upper lip. “Looks like you need one.” You scoff as you skim the first articles.

“I play by the rules!”

“Really? Then why have I had to mend your slashed leg today? Tell me that.” Your teeth clack together as you close your mouth and nearly growl at him. Your name in his lips sounds like a warning. “It’s an order. Answer it.”

“Because I didn’t obey you.” You manage to sputter the words between your teeth and each of them parting your lips hurts more than the sword cut you received from the marines stationed at the island. 

“Hence the rulebook. It’s not unwarranted. I’ve known you for a year and every time we encounter a new island, you run amok doing your own shit and come back slashed, bruised, cut, or bleeding. I’ve had enough.” You swallow the knot in your throat as Law gets up, circling the desk and leaning on it, right in front of you. “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about you. So it’s time you make me stop worrying, before I drive myself insane.”

Aww…You’d actually think that’s a cute thing to say, if it wasn’t for the unhinged glint in Law’s eyes or the way that his smirk makes you tremble in anticipation. 

“You want me to follow this rulebook?” He gives you that annoying ‘what do you think?’ look and you scoff. “There’s like fifteen rules here! I’m not following this!” Your eyes skim the rules again. “Report back every hour? What the hell, Law?”

“You can use a DenDen for that.” He’s enjoying this. You were expecting punishment, but not this kind of punishment, this is unbearable. “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart.” His voice softens as you glare at him through hooded eyes. “I’ll make you a deal.”

What?

“If you read me all the items in that rulebook without stopping, you don’t have to follow it.” What the fuck? Your head cocks to the side as your eyes switch between the paper in your hands and the amused glare of your boyfriend.

“Just like that?”

“With a few more conditions.” He chuckles with that low vibrato in his voice and your knees tremble. 

“Which are?”

“Get up.” When you do, he unzips your boiler suit all the way down, revealing the top you have underneath. “Strip the rest.”

“Is this a kink, Law?” You tease, knowing you don’t mind at all. If reciting the items naked for him is what gets you your freedom, you’re game. So you take everything but your panties because he stops you when you were going to remove them. 

“Perfect.” He says.

“Okay, I’ll start.” You clear your throat and bend your legs to sit when Law’s tutting stops you. “What?”

“Bend over the desk for me, sweetheart.” Bend over? Heat starts to pool at your core because that position over that desk has already given you quite a few orgasms in the past months, and you have excellent muscle memory. 

“Law?”

“It’s up to you. If you don’t read them, you have to follow them.” He pushes off the table as his eyes devour you, inch by inch, making you inhale deeply just to gather your thoughts again. 

“Fine.” Anything to not follow his stupid rules! You bend over his desk, which is conveniently the perfect height to line up your ass with his cock, as proven many times before, and push a few books to the side so you’re leaning on your elbows. You clear your throat again and begin reciting in a sing-song voice. “Rule number one: no wandering off alone! Sure, this one is simple, I usually go out with Ik– mmph, Law!”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as your body snaps with tension. Looking over your shoulder, you see your captain sitting in the chair you were in earlier, with his finger in your clothed cunt. 

“You stopped.” Fuck. “But I’ll give you that one, you weren’t prepared. Start over.” Your breath comes out in ragged gasps as you feel yourself already getting wet at the prospect of all the things Law is going to do to you. It kind of makes you want to throw the rules overboard and just beg him to take you right now.

“Fuck, Law. Okay, here we go: Rule number one: no wandering off alone!” A gasp leaves your lips and you close your eyes for a second as Law’s fingers tease your clit over the panties, the friction of the fabric increasing his touch. “Rule number two: Fuck, Law, like that.” You moan, closing your eyes again as he teases one finger inside the panties to see how wet you are. 

His tuts are unforgiving, and he removes his fingers altogether, earning him a grunt from you. “You stopped again, sweetheart.”

“Law!”

“The deal is: you read them all until the end without stopping, and you don’t have to follow them. Got it?” You groan and shake your head. That’s impossible. If he’s going to torture you  like this, it will be impossible to read the rules. 

“That’s unfair, Law.”

“Okay, then, you’re right. So how about this: you can pause three times during five seconds.” You nod. You can do that. Law’s hand caresses your buttcheeks as he talks, and every single rub makes you tingle.  “Moaning is encouraged, but keep reading. Oh, and when you pause,” Law removes his hands from you, “I pause. Keep that in mind.”

What? Now that’s cruel! You look at the rules again and feel angered. There’s no fucking way you’re going to follow them, you can do this! You can zone out. Let’s go!

“Fine! Okay, we’re doing this. Just know that you’re the infuriating one! Rule number two–”

“No, no, no. From the beginning.” Does this man want you angered or turned on? Because he’s doing both brilliantly. 

“Rule number one: no wandering off alone.” You cry out softly as his hand slaps your ass, leaving the most marvellous burning sensation behind, which he soothes with a caress. “Rule number two: report back every hour. Oh, my God.” You take a deep breath before reading the other one, trying to focus on the words instead of the slow way he’s pulling your pants down your legs and breathing against your cunt.

“Rule number three: no-... no-... my God, Law.” He’s using his tongue! He swipes up from your clit to your hole in a long upwards streak, then probes around the entrance with slow, teasing circles. He inches just the tip of his tongue inside as his hand reaches to brush against your swollen clit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“One… Two…” His movements stop, and he starts counting the seconds you’re quiet against your cunt, making you shudder. The dry thud of your forehead against the wooden desk should ground you, but it’s impossible when he was working his fingers like that. “Three…Four…” One more second to regain focus, one deep breath to continue. “Five.”

Just as you open your mouth, so does he, tongue reaching inside you, twisting and curling to hit delicious spots as you cry out his name before your muddled brain repeats the same word over and over: read, read, read!

“Rule number three: no unauthorized fucking fights!” An unbridled moan parts your lips as Law switches up and two of his fingers go where his tongue was and his tongue sucks on your clit. “FUCK. Rule number four: ah, Law, ah! No reckless stunts! That was one time! One–... ahhh!” You suck in three deep breaths and punch the table as his fingers curl and his teeth nibble gently, just the way he knows you like.

God, you’re so close. Your legs numb and tense up as heat spreads throughout your veins. The pressure in your abdomen threatens to release at any given moment and you can’t stop right now. 

“Rule number five: don’t stop, Law! Don’t… ah!” You cry out his name as wave upon wave of pleasure washes over you, taking your sanity with it and blurring your vision until tiny white dots are all you can see. Sweat drips from your temples, and your elbows give out as you squeeze your breasts against the table. Your hands find purchase against anything to help you ride this high, and there’s now a book on Law’s desk with very crumpled pages. 

You’re still breathing hard, trying to regain focus when the buzzing in your ears subsides, and you hear Law’s voice again. “Four…” Fuck, fuck, the list! You open your eyes with a deep exhale and focus back on the now crumpled paper, just as Law finishes his count. You’re now down to one more pause. Crap.

“Rule number five: do not interact with suspicious strangers.” You hear Law unbuckling his belt and start to read faster, even though the aftershocks of your orgasm are still making you shudder and gasp. “Rule number six: do not go to bars without me.” Well, that one is warranted. You pretty much fuck everything up when you’re wasted. The zipper, hurry up! “Rule number seven: obey curfew.” 

A lone whimper leaves your lips as you feel Law rubbing the tip of his cock against your slit, up and down, touching your oversensitive clit before teasing your entrance but not entering. You’re going to fail if you don’t hurry. 

“Rule number ei–...” You gasp and cry out the loudest moan yet as Law sheathes himself inside of you, immediately bottoming out. The feeling of fullness, the tip hitting your cervix, and the burn of the stretching is so intense that it takes your breath away for a second. 

“Breathe, sweetheart, I’m giving you this one for free.” He rubs soothing circles on your back and doesn’t move until you relax around him. “Now continue, or I’ll start the break time.”

You heave in a few sharp breaths, already too winded to speak, but you have no other choice. 

“Rule number eight: hmm… ah…” Law pulls back, his hands firmly planted against your hips and you brace yourself for what’s next. “You’re forbidden to act as ba–... ahngh! Fuck! Bait!” He slams into you and the desk skids forward with the force. The pleasure of his thrust and the pain of the desk biting into your hips shoots warmth through your core and down your legs and you focus again on the words in front of you.

On the very blurry words in front of you. Tears of pleasure gather at the corner of your eyes as your mouth hangs open and Law keeps thrusting harder and harder.

“Rule number– just like that, more! Nine: Always carry a, fuck, weapon!” Almost there. Both at the end of the list and on the next wave of bliss that’s already cresting and forming as the coil winds tight in your stomach. 

“Rule–... ngh… rule–” You’re about to break and cry out or tap out, anything. You can’t think about anything other than the pure perfection that is your bodies conjoined. The lewd sounds of his cock filling you and the soft grunts he’s releasing behind you. 

“Go on, love, you got this.” He urges, thrusting even harder. 

But you don’t ‘got this’, at all. Your hair is damp against your forehead, and all that escapes your lips are ragged moans and broken pleas. You’re there, you’re right there. A few more thrusts and you’ll be–...

“One…Two…” He stopped. He fucking stopped! A desperate whine leaves your lips as you wiggle your hips against him because you were just there! “Three…” He won’t move until five or until you start to read again.

This has to be torture for him too!

“Four…” Deep breaths, focus. You can do this, it’s as simple as reading a supermarket list. If you were being railed against the dairy section. Damn. New kink unlocked. “Five…”

“Rule number–...” Where the fuck was I? Blank. There’s nothing there. And then there’s Law and another deep thrust clicking your brain into place. “Rule number ten: fuck me harder, Law!”

He can’t help but chuckle as he reaches forward, his back sprawling over you and you feel the way his sweat clings to your back. “That’s not written there, love, carry on.”

“Don’t leave the ship without permission.” You moan out the rule, but you said it. There are five more rules and one big impediment. You don’t have more timeouts, and your orgasm is approaching fast. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to read while you're in ecstasy. 

Spit them all out, now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Rule number eleven: stay out of off-limit areas; rule number twelve: stay inside the sub if you’re hurt.” Intelligible. Everything you’re saying comes out in ragged breaths, gasps, and moans, but you’re reading. And Law ups his game.

He slithers a hand around your waist, lifting your body against him, grabbing your leg and hoisting your knee over the desk. His cock slides deeper with each thrust as he breathes heavily into your ear.

God, you won’t make it. 

“Rule number thirteen: ah… Law… I’m… nghh. Absolutely no secrets.” Two more, just two more rules, but you can feel the coil tightening, almost, almost snapping. The way Law holds your body against his, as sweat drenches both of you, his mouth on the curve of your neck, the way he’s digging his teeth in… it’s too much.

“Rule number fourteen: follow my medical advice.” One more. 

Law’s fingers reach down to press your clit, circling it with expert precision, and his next deep thrust makes you lose it. 

Your release hits you like a truck, and you arch your back, nails digging into Law’s forearm as he expertly works his fingers to squeeze every bit of pleasure out of you. Your cry mingles with his low grunt as he spills his seed inside you, riding his pleasure with a few more ragged thrusts. 

The world is reduced to just the two of you and this moment. Nothing else matters but the way he whispers ‘I love you’ in your ear in a breathless whisper. You nod back at him, too addled, hazed, and tired to give him an adequate response, knowing you’ll do so after a brief moment of reprieve.

Law pulls himself out of you and brings you both into the chair, cradling you against his chest as his fingers caress your hair, and he kisses your nose affectionately. “Are you all right?”

Another nod. Too early to speak yet. 

“You almost did it, love. You had one more rule.” He chuckles, and you laugh along with him. 

“This is an impossible challenge, Law. You’re terrible. But I love you.” You lift the crumpled paper to glimpse at the last rule. “Rule number fifteen: follow the chain of command.” You scoff. “Got it, Captain. I’ll obey every damn, stupid, silly rule. You won.”

You’re not even pissed at him anymore. This was fucking hot. 

“Check the addendum.” You lift your head from his chest to meet his amber gaze in curiosity before looking back at the paper, confused. “Turn it.” He says, so you do.

“Addendum: the following of this rulebook can be challenged at any given time, under the same rules.” A smirk forms on your lips at the implications of the addendum, you can have a repeat of this little game anytime you want. You’ll find a way to beat the rules, eventually. Chuckling, you snuggle back into that cosy spot in the curve of Law’s neck, where your head fits perfectly. “Give me half an hour and we’ll try again.”

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @walmartmihawk

[alienoresimagines]

can you write [knuckles] for a kiss on the hand? thank you!!

I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you're still around 🥺❤️But here it is, 1.8k long despite my best efforts at keeping it under 1k 😅 I hope you'll like it 💕 Also on AO3 My other Clegan fics here

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine) | Buck x Bucky

The radio they managed to find doesn't tell them much of interest regarding the Allies’ troops and their progress, but writing any tidbits of information down gives John something to focus on that isn't this camp, this life that isn't really a life but that isn't death either, just some in-between that John is stuck in, unable to do anything or be useful. One foot in the grave and every day wishing a bit more it was both. In the darkest corner of his mind, he thinks that perhaps his death would save Gale from tiring himself to the bone trying to keep John tethered to Earth. Maybe, at least then, he could be useful to Buck. 

The thought is squashed away almost immediately, guilt crawling in his throat. Those few days after Gale had gone down over Bremen were the worst in John's life. The certainty that he was now a piece of something that would never be whole again, with no home to fight for anymore, had been the most excruciating pain John's ever known. Over the course of just a few months, he’s lost more friends than he can count, each loss cutting deeper. But losing Gale hadn’t just felt like losing a limb. From the moment Red’s distorted voice reached his ears through the phone - “He went down swinging, John” - he was an empty shell walking, his chest hollow with no heart, some vital part of him missing. No matter how miserable this camp makes him, wishing such agony on his best friend, his better half is unbearable. If only to spare Gale any additional pain, he’ll plant both feet in the mud until they stop trying to get him closer to that barbed-wire fence. 

Yet, despite desperately wishing Gale out of harm’s way, his being chained to the dirt with him is John’s saving grace. In the darkness of the Stalag, Gale shines brighter than the North Star, and John fights every day to keep himself from the fog in his head to grasp at this soft golden light. It's easier at night, the weight of Gale in his arms a grounding presence, the distinct smell of him feeling more and more like home, but John is starting to make it through some days always there too. Listening to the radio also helps, especially when most days, it's just him and Gale at the table, the others keeping watch on the guards from outside. Soon it'll be too cold for them to do so without it being suspicious or dangerous for their own health, but for now, John is glad he gets to spend more time alone with Gale. His ma always said he fights tooth and nail for those he loves, and right now, he's desperately grasping at the fading rays of sunlight, selfishness be damned.

Today, the BBC doesn't have any interesting news to keep hold of his attention for long, so he mostly scribbles down what he hears without making sense of the words strung together, too focused on the solid presence of Buck on his right. With both of them being right-handed, it would have been too much of a hindrance to be pressed close enough for their shoulders to touch, but their knees knock together every so often, like silent banter. It sends sparks of warmth down John's spine, the focused tilt of Gale's mouth only amusing him in his boredom. In the past five minutes, he's sent his knee against Gale's in soft presses, alternating between lingering and fleeting touches until the word B-U-C-K is successfully floating in the air, though the man himself seems entirely unaware of it, tongue darting between his lips in concentration. Bucky's debating coding G-A-L-E, just to see if the rare occurrence of his given name will snap the other out of his focus when said man grunts softly as he scribbles, pencil scratching the paper as it nears the edge. John mindlessly hands him a blank piece of paper, more than attuned to all the different ways the other has to ask for something without voicing his desires, eyes trained on the stray blond curl falling on Buck’s forehead. Without lifting his eyes from his piece of paper, Gale extends a pale hand to take John's offering, the contact of their fingers sending a jolt through John's blood. He lets out a yelp, slightly jerking back before diving in to hold Gale's hands between his own, Buck's sound of confusion and protest as his pencil is thrown out of his hold swallowed by John's cursing.

"Jesus, Buck, your hands are fuckin' freezing." John doesn't feel particularly warm but the difference in temperature between both their hands is such that he half-expects the air to start hissing. How Gale can still move his fingers is a mystery to him, and his gut goes tight with worry. Trying to rub warmth back into those hands, John brings them to his face so that he can blow hot air on long fingers. He's deeply aware of how intimate the gesture is, especially in a place like this, and he can feel heat rising to his cheeks but he focuses stubbornly on his task. Keeping his eyes on those hands he’s never held so close to his face is a necessary precaution to ensure he doesn’t dismiss any inch of skin in his mission to warm them enough that he doesn’t have to worry about them falling off, and it has the additional effect of allowing John to study them without fearing being caught.

Gale's hands truly are beautiful. They've always been, and in the years he's known the other, John has spent more time than he probably should have admiring them. How they wrap in a strong grip around the yolk to wield a metal fortress effortlessly, how long, slender fingers bring a toothpick to the plump curve of his lips. Calluses on fingers and rough palms that were still so gentle and kind when they tended to John's wounds just a few months ago. Today, they look frail and dry, the knuckles angry red and cracked from the cold. It hurts to even look at them, those hands that were more suited for piano and gently guiding horses across fields now cracked by misery and cold. Acting on an urge, he presses a kiss to the knuckles of both, a silent promise to warm them and get them better, to get them far from weapons and barbed fences, and back to horses and piano and books.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Gale blinking owlishly at him, perfectly still. Between them, the radio crackles, words floating in the air but never making it to any paper. After a few more seconds, Gale's voice rises too, soft despite his usual deep southern drawl.

"I need my hands back, Bucky." John frowns, still rubbing his palms over Gale's hands to warm them. Admittedly, he knows Gale can't write with his foot, even though imagining it almost makes him smile, but really, nothing the BBC is broadcasting right now is worth the risk of Gale losing his hands to the cold. Unconsciously, he brings Gale's hands closer to his face, just shy of nuzzling them with the tip of his nose, already thinking of all the ways he could get them warm. It would be, like many things, easier at night. With the cold, everybody has taken up to sharing a bunk and no one would notice if Gale's hands were pressed to his skin, under his shirt. Even though the thought of those icicles against more sensitive skin than his palms isn't exactly a pleasant one, he'd do it in a heartbeat. For the day, when it would be too risky for John to hold Gale's hands in his pockets, maybe he could find him some gloves, at least make mittens out of socks, to soften the blow of the cold and the sting of the wind. 

"Bucky ?" Eyes snapping to Gale's, he finds him with his head slightly tilted to the side, cheeks red from the cold. It's then he realizes he still has both of Gale's hands in his. The other looks at him and then back at his paper before raising his brows in a silent question, making John huff. Reluctantly, he lets go of Gale's right hand but immediately cradles his left hand on his lap. He hopes Gale will be satisfied with this, but the other keeps looking at him insistently, a fond glint in his eyes but brows slightly furrowed, as if his left hand being held in both of John's is a math problem he can’t solve.

At the silent question, he rolls his eyes and makes a show of putting his own left hand on the upper part of Gale's paper, making sure it doesn't move from its spot on the table. The paper is smooth against his fingertips, contrasting with the rough feel of the wooden table that has given them more than their fair share of splinters on his palm. He misses the feeling of Gale’s hands in his. For a moment, he had felt whole in a way he usually only feels at night. Gale's hand is starting to get warmer in his, the skin rough from the cold, but John has never held something as delicate and precious as it, save for Gale himself.

Resting their joined hands on his lap, he intertwines their fingers and fights down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, eyes resolutely on the paper in front of the other. There’s no reason to feel nervous, they’ve slept in each other’s arms so often by now it really shouldn’t matter, but something about the fact that this isn’t about survival forces him to take a deep breath before moving. With one slide over the bench, his side is pressed to Gale’s, shoulders rising and falling in tandem. He’s glad to notice that Buck isn’t as cold as his hands, warmth seeping from his side to John’s as rapidly as the tension leaves the set of his shoulders until he’s pressing back into John.

They'll work slower like that but Gale doesn't protest nor take his hand away, only resettling slightly so his thigh also rests against John’s. Tentatively, he risks a glance at Gale and finds him looking down at the table, face still red but from something John has an inkling isn't the cold anymore, biting his bottom lip softly but mouth nonetheless quirked upwards. It takes every ounce of strength and self-restraint in him not to kiss him, to smother the affection blooming in his chest. Instead, after a bit of silence in which he feels he might suffocate on pent-up love, John squeezes Gale's hand in his and the other seems to focus back on his task, startled. Clearing his throat, Gale starts scribbling again, pointedly avoiding looking to his left, but John doesn't mind, a smile spreading his cracked lips, fondness written plain on his face as he doesn’t look away for a second.

On his lap, Gale squeezes his hand back.

[sutashii]

Hoshina Soshiro x Writer!Officer!Reader

setting: you are an officer of Third Division, and one of your hobbies is to write different fictional stories. as soon as Soshiro finds out about your hobby, he, as a true fan of literature, will never leave you alone anymore.

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x Writer!Officer!Reader

warnings: lots of lolz because Soshiro is a tease, but nothing explicit here

notes: yes, Soshiro have read even NC-17 works of yours hehe. it was really funny to write lol. btw this one is about 3,8k words, it’s longer than my usual drabble-like works. but i still hope you will enjoy!

tag section: @moon-cakiie Thank you again for your support!

On the Edge of a Sword

You worked hard to finally become who you are today.

Long days and even nights of training sessions, reading books about kaiju up and down, each time more and more dangerous battles on the battlefield made you the one who can lead others. The one who can assess the situation with a second glance, react quickly, or hide and wait for the right moment when you can deliver the most devastating and accurate blow.

But, naturally, you, like all officers, had your favorite hobbies. After all, you were a simple person who loved, for example, to eat well or sleep longer when the situation allowed it. On weekends, you went out into the city to look at the shop windows and walk around the shopping centers, absorbing the noise of the crowded streets and seeing with your own eyes what you were trying so hard for.

And you also really loved to write.

There were times when inspiration would hit you, and for several days in a row you would scribble something in the notes on your phone in any free minute - during meals, in between workouts, before and after showers. These were short notes about ideas that came to your mind and that you absolutely could not lose. They were about the development of the plot as a whole, about some small details that were definitely worth mentioning, about dialogues between the main characters.

But there were also days when you didn't want to dive into it at all because of the accumulated fatigue, so you put off writing the next chapter until next time. The fatigue had been especially strong lately, considering how much more dangerous kaiju attacks had become. However, you still found time for what really made you happy.

One such day, during your lunch break, you hurried to finish your lunch as quickly as possible and go out for some fresh air. You thought much better outside, even though you were surrounded by the polluted air of a noisy city. At Defense Forces’ Base, by the way, the air seemed cleaner, but you tried not to fill your head with such details, because otherwise you risked losing the thread of the story. You fished your phone out of your uniform pocket, opened your notes, and, exhaling, began typing.

Today, it took you only a couple of minutes to get into the right mood. Your fingers flew across the touchscreen keyboard, and your breathing seemed to have almost stopped, concentrating a small influx of fresh air at the very top of your lungs. You already knew how you wanted to continue your new story. All that was left was to write a few chapters in which the main heroine's dilemma would come closer to its resolution, and in which her love story would reach its climax.

"I wonder who you're texting with that excited expression," a painfully familiar voice sounded in your ear, making you flinch and your heart sink into your heels. You instinctively pressed your phone to your chest, hiding the screen, and carefully looked up.

In front of you stood your vice-captain himself.

"N-Nobody," and it wasn't a lie, you noted with your inner voice. You really weren't texting anyone at this moment, so you couldn't be caught doing anything. And anyway, is it even forbidden to write love messages during a break? Why vice-captain was looking at you with such a sly squint?!

"Yeah? And it seems to me that I had never seen anyone other than you who typed so fast," Soshiro said with feigned thoughtfulness, clearly testing your strength. You felt that he had been watching you for a long time and noting your actions, and today was clearly no exception. You attributed his behavior to his vice-captain duties, to the need to keep an eye on each of his subordinates so as not to miss any danger. However, you did not expect that he would appear in front of you so clearly and ask you a question directly.

With Soshiro… let’s just say it was a bit complicated. You knew you couldn’t be too open with him. It would sound stupid from the outside – everyone knew that the vice-captain was always reliable, that he would always listen and support, even if he didn’t forget to have a good laugh. However, you knew very well that if you dug a little deeper than his carefree nature, you could find a calculating mind that noticed every detail about everyone. You were wildly impressed by his ability to pick up even the smallest facts and put them together to give a crushing verdict. Naturally, you were both fascinated and scared by this.

Because there was no way Soshiro should have known that you were in love with him.

"You misunderstood," you smiled awkwardly, turning your phone back on. The screen showed an unfinished sentence, and you sighed tiredly. "I'm not texting anyone. I'm finishing up the chapter."

"The chapter?" Soshiro asked, opening his eyes slightly. Your heart skipped a beat, because every time you saw the vice-captain's gaze, your own lingered longer than it should have.

"Yes," you nodded, smiling nervously. He wouldn't scold you for doing something like that during lunchtime, would he? "I promised my readers to post the chapter last week, but, as you know, the kaiju attacks make their own adjustments to our plans."

Silence fell between you. You anxiously chewed your lip, a bad habit that should’ve been gotten rid of a long time ago. Soshiro froze, his gaze piercing you with a very serious expression. Did you do something wrong? Was it really written in some regulation that you can’t do this, especially during duty? Did it even apply to breaks?

"Vice-captain, I assure you, I do not write anything that could somehow reveal our officers’ duties," you hastened to justify yourself, so that Soshiro would not think in any way that you were giving away Defense Forces' secrets. It would never have occurred to you to do so, because you knew perfectly well how important and dangerous your work was, and any ill-wisher would certainly learn something from your works. You could not and would not take such a risk.

"I know that you would not do such a thing," he finally said, and you felt your heart begin to beat at a normal speed again. "However, I will certainly take it personally that I am still not on your reader lists."

You froze, unsure of what to say. Did you hear wrong, or did Soshiro really just complain that you didn't share the link to your author page?

"Sorry, vice-captain, but I don't think you'd like that," you said, and Soshiro's grin only widened.

"Oh, I get it. Fanfiction and all that stuff, eh?" Soshiro sat down on the bench next to you, his smile oozing with cunning and something else you didn't quite catch.

"Well... not only that," you cleared your throat, the awkwardness of the whole situation causing a slight blush to play on your cheeks. "My page used to only have fanfiction on it, but I've been writing more original stories now."

"Interesting," Soshiro nodded and handed you his phone, to which you could only raise your eyebrows in surprise. "I'd like to read it in my spare time. If you don't mind, of course."

"S-Sure," you nodded, trying not to squeal in joy, shame, and excitement. With slightly shaking hands, you took Soshiro's phone and began to type in the address of your author's page. "Here, you don't have to register, even unregistered users can read and comment here," you expertly instructed your vice-captain on how this Internet platform works, to which Soshiro nodded in satisfaction.

For the next few days, your interaction with Soshiro was reduced to almost nothing, except for training and sparring sessions. You were tirelessly practicing your fighting skills, training almost to the point of exhaustion, so you could not find even a second to ask Soshiro his opinion. And, frankly, you were too embarrassed to do so, so you decided to simply ignore the situation, and Soshiro only helped you in this, literally evaporating into thin air after each training session.

After a few days of hard work, you finally found enough strength to look at the updated statistics for your works. The platform allowed you to track the daily growth of views, likes, and comments on your works, and it was very convenient because you did not have to manually scroll the page and keep track of it. When you opened the statistics this time, you were surprised to find that even on your very old works, the number of views began to increase proportionally to the number of chapters, and you turned off the screen of your phone in a panic and buried your face in the pillow. You should have expected this, having given your vice-captain your page, but you still felt awkward. Did Soshiro really even read this?!

It was more than strange for you to feel two such different worlds touching each other, especially in such a strange manner. You even partly regretted giving Soshiro your account with a bunch of similar works, because after reading them all, Soshiro would definitely not let you live a quiet life. You secretly hoped that Soshiro would quickly get bored of reading second-rate fanfiction on unfamiliar fandoms, but on the other hand, you were offended that he would not even get to your latest, more serious works, and the difference between them and fanfiction was colossal both in time and in the quality. And why did Soshiro start reading from the very beginning, and not from the latest works?! After all, if he understands that there is nothing to catch here and gives up reading, only your worst works will remain in his memory!

You let out a heavy but quiet breath, trying not to wake the officers in the neighboring bunks. Shame and disgrace, that's what had been playing in your blood for the last few days. There was something thrilling in the fact that your love had paid so much attention to your work. You smiled to yourself and mentally crossed your fingers in the hope that Soshiro would finally tell you his opinion.

The days continued to slip through your fingers, and the interactions between you and Soshiro continued to be limited to just a few words during training. You began to worry even more. Was it really that awkward to talk to you after what Soshiro had read? You continued to practice your close combat moves with particular thoughtfulness. Punch, dodge, counter, dodge again. Suddenly, it hit you, and you almost squealed right in the middle of training.

Did he even get around of reading NC-17 rated works?!

You were ready to bang your head on the floor from indignation and shame. You hadn't thought about this at all when you gave Soshiro the link to your page. The awkward feeling you had felt earlier? It was nothing compared to what you felt now, knowing that Soshiro had probably already gotten to the particularly intimate works that you had started writing a little later. You tried your best to continue training as if nothing had happened, but these thoughts just wouldn't leave your head.

"Don't get distracted, or you'll be eaten alive on the battlefield," Soshiro reminded, coming closer. Even he noticed that you weren’t feeling well, and you hurried to tidy yourself up as much as possible - at least to remove the "I'm dead" expression from your face.

"Yes sir," you said crisply and continued practicing your close stance and punches. Soshiro's gaze lingered on you a little longer than it should have, and you were about to ask if everything was okay, when suddenly...

"A true samurai never backs down from the obstacles that Lady Life throws at him," Soshiro said with feigned loftiness. His lips were still adorned with the same mischievous smirk that he usually bestowed on his subordinates when he was plotting something or noticed something incriminating. At first you didn't pay much attention, but a few seconds later, when Soshiro had already gone off to give help to other officers, you felt as if you had been doused from head to toe with ice water.

It was a quote from your fanfic.

You really wanted to bury yourself in the ground and never show yourself from under it again.

Which is essentially what you did. Now you were deliberately avoiding Soshiro, unobtrusively, but still trying to cross paths with him less. The feeling of shame was growing in you exponentially, and you didn't know what to do.

For the first time in your writing life, you were afraid to open the statistics. However, once every couple of days you still did it, looking at the phone screen and squinting, afraid to see the obvious. You sighed heavily. Soshiro really did go through the NC-17 fanfics and also liked them, like the previous ones. At least he didn’t write comments, you thought. On the other hand, you really wanted to hear his opinion about your writing skills, because it was obvious that the newer the works were, the better their quality changed. At least, you wanted to believe it.

Weeks passed. You carried out your duties as an officer of the Defense Forces responsibly, training hard and bravely defending the city from the attacks of the kaiju. The battles were not easy, and despite the support of Hibino Kafka as Kaiju No. 8, it became more and more difficult to deal with the threats. However, at the end of the day, you were happy that you were all a team that stood up for each other.

You were standing on the balcony of the main building. The setting sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon, and the air was starting to get cooler. By your calculations, Soshiro should have gotten around to your original works by now, and you were especially curious about his opinion, but you didn’t dare to ask him directly. Since then, you hadn’t had a chance to talk. Your conversations had mostly been about work, barely touching on aspects of your personal lives, and not a word had been said by him about your works. This could only mean two things: either Soshiro was simply choosing a more convenient moment to share his positive impressions (and the thought of this warmed your heart), or things were so bad that it was easier for him to pretend he hadn’t read anything (and this thought had already hurt you and your writer’s ego). Or maybe Soshiro was just trying to make sure that you really didn’t include work details in your works. This option seemed the most reasonable.

But most of all, of course, you were worried about your latest work, which was in progress. As already said, you would never take details of your officer entourage to write a work, and for the sake of everyone's safety, you were going to stick to this rule in the future. However, the only detail that could be latched on was the love interest of the main heroine. A short, dark-haired man with an athletic build, a traditional swordsman who devotes all his free time to training, cheerful, but at the same time serious in the right places, did not leave your regular readers indifferent either. Hino Shigekazu became the absolute star of your work, and you understood why. His entire image completely repeated the image of your vice-captain, and from the very beginning you understood what thin ice you were walking on, but you could not find the strength in yourself to delete or stop working on this work. In many ways, the main heroine reflected your values ​​and principles, and her love interest in Shigekazu only added color to the existing plot. The two of them really were a great couple, and that was the only thing stopping you from deleting this work.

It was too filled with your hope that something similar would happen in your life someday.

"It's almost time for lights out," a familiar voice said from behind you, and you flinched. A smile appeared on your face involuntarily, and you turned around. Hoshina Soshiro was standing right behind you. His body didn't show any tension even after a long day of training, and his neat but strong hands, usually so deft with swords, were now hidden in the pockets of his uniform.

"Yes," you nodded and forcibly returned your gaze to the sunset creeping behind the night clouds. "I'll be leaving soon."

"Don't worry, I'm not a mother to keep track of who goes to bed at what time," Soshiro came closer and leaned his hands on the balcony railing, also turning his gaze to the setting sun. "However, if you stay up late, as your vice-captain, I will be obliged to intervene."

You smiled and exhaled in relief. You missed your casual conversations so much, missed Soshiro's attention, which at such moments was directed exclusively at you. His presence always caused an indescribable storm of emotions in you, even if you were just silent next to each other. You felt his care, albeit sometimes hidden under a layer of strict remarks and bitter jokes. Despite the difference in your positions, you always felt equal to him when it came to the two of you.

"I never thought that fanfiction is such an interesting thing," Soshiro chuckled thoughtfully, and you almost lost your balance. Is he going to discuss all of this right now?!

"I'm glad that, uh, it gave you some pleasure," you muttered awkwardly.

"At first, of course, I thought it was a hopeless undertaking," ouch, you thought. Soshiro really knows how to press on a sore spot. "But as I read, I couldn't help but be amazed about how quickly your writing skills have grown. I can confidently say that your latest works can easily compete with the current authors on the market."

Gods, it was so nice to hear those words after so many weeks of uncertainty.

"Vice-captain, you're too kind to me," you tried to return your face to normal state, but you couldn't wipe the stupid, satisfied smile off it. Praise from Soshiro meant especially much to you.

"Oh, no, I have a lot of complaints too," Soshiro said playfully, crossing his arms. "Let’s take your latest work, On the Edge of a Sword, for example. Why is Hino Shigekazu such a slowpoke? I understand that it's the author's intention, but didn’t you think that he may have noticed his feelings for the main heroine a lot earlier, not after 16 long chapters?" you couldn't believe your ears. Was he criticizing his own image? "He's not stupid, after all. You pointed out his attentiveness to his surroundings, so why do you think he wouldn’t notice such an important detail from the start, especially with a woman he clearly cares about?” Soshiro shook his head, and something inside you clicked. This conversation was hardly a normal critique. “When writing a love story, pay more attention to the chemistry that occurs between the characters. Many of their interactions may not seem like what they seem at first glance.”

“Vice-captain,” you began cautiously. You weren’t stupid either, but you still really wanted to check your guess. “Are we really talking about my work now?”

Soshiro smiled slyly. “Like a kitsune, huh,” you thought, and an idea for your next work instantly popped into your head. However, for now, you quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

“What if not?” Soshiro raised an eyebrow and looked thoughtfully into your eyes, and you quickly looked away.

“Then… you know my answer,” you said with a tremor in your voice, this whole situation was so absurd, but at the same time romantic, just like in the books. The sunset, the one-on-one conversation, the veiled confession of love - all of this ignited your writer's heart and gave it inspiration, but, of course, it was all secondary. You couldn't believe that Soshiro really, really admitted to you that he noticed your feelings from the very beginning. And that he approved of them and believed that they were mutual. Oh, Gods. You were ready to pass out right then and there.

"No, I don't know," Soshiro smiled, and your breath caught in your chest. He really wanted a direct, unvarnished answer from you, even though he had admitted his own feelings in such a sophisticated way just a minute ago. You just shook your head and smiled. Something about the vice-captain remained unchanged.

"Vice-captain," you said, plucking up the courage to meet his gaze. "More precisely... Soshiro." You narrowed your eyes slightly, tasting the name, savoring it on your lips. "I... I care about you, as you may have already realised. No, not like that. I could even say that I love you, and those feelings are much more than just the relationship between a vice-captain and an officer. Of course I do not expect you to reciprocate, and if you decline my feelings, I assure you that our relationship will remain the same as they are now. This will not affect my duty as an officer in any way," a bitter lie. Of course it will, but you still will do everything possible to survive this. After all, your duties cannot allow you to behave recklessly because of emotions.

"I believe you. However," Soshiro said thoughtfully, his gaze radiating seriousness as if he was in the middle of a battlefield. "My feelings for you have gone beyond a work relationship for a long time ago already," he went silent for a moment, but then his face lit up with a sly smile again. "You specifically wanted me to say that out loud, didn't you? Tsk, well, 1:1."

You laughed heartily, happiness filling your lungs and your stomach twisting unpleasantly with excitement, but you were willing to put up with this feeling. You knew that in the end it was justified and even pleasant.

"Sorry, vice-captain," you breathed out and smiled again, still not believing what was happening. This wasn't another one of your fantasies, not another one of your works, but reality? Wow, you really could be considered lucky.

"Well, I'll be looking forward to new chapters," Soshiro stretched, moving away from the balcony railing. Despite his outward calm, you could tell from his voice and posture that he was nervous too. It was cute, you thought, but you didn't dare say it out loud. "And be sure, I'll be expecting even more interesting plot twists from you."

"Yes sir!" you said, a wide smile still playing on your face.

Soshiro always knew how to make you happy.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hii I'm glad you're writing today!! Can you write something for fenrys. Him being in a new relationship and feeling like he can't give her enough because he's not too intimate (because of his trauma) and he sees her laughing with someone else and thinks she's better off without him but reader finds out and comforts him? Some angst/fluff please 🤌🏻💚

Healing hearts

He was scared. Down petrified if he was being honest. Fenrys wasn’t looking for a partner. No, you practically just appeared as if someone sent you down for him. Maybe it was his brother. By the river, you had found him. He had walked away from the training with the Cadre, the devastation of no longer having his twin there, hitting him with a wave of bitter anger. You had walked to the river to refill the buckets for laundry when you had caught his frame slumped against the tree.

The sound of buckets falling had caused Fenrys to turn then. To you running through the high grass. Running towards him. He had frowned, his mind not putting things together. And then you had touched him, out of concern but it had sent him into an overdrive and he shifted right in front of you making you lose your balance as you stepped back. Falling back onto the sharp stones. The metallic smell of blood filled Fenrys’s nose as you lifted your bloody palms to shield yourself from him. His head scrambled even more as he backed away as well, he didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t mean to hurt you. But then you had looked at him. More like looked through him. At the white wolf whining as he pressed against the tree. “It’s okay”, you muttered, “I’m not hurt and I mean no harm. You were just…”, you swallowed thickly, “Against that tree I thought you were having a heart attack, I don’t know… I’m sorry”.

The rest took long weeks to unfold. He was skittish. Craving companionship. But every time you would get close he would run. Leaving you for days without showing up. It was Gavriel who had visited you with a slightly apologetic look on his face. “If you have it in your heart, don’t give up on him”, he muttered as you poured him a fresh ale, “He took so many blows. Life hasn’t been kind to our boyo”. You had only nodded that night. Knowing better than making promises to ancient soldiers.

It felt like trying to get a stray to trust you at first. But then slowly, little by little, he had started to open up. You let him take the lead at all times. Even in the moments when your fingers itched to touch him, you held back. Telling him time and time again that he was in control here, nothing he didn’t want to do he didn’t have to. You had cried the night he had finally leaned in to kiss you. After months of waiting for him, being there with him. “Was it that bad?”, Fenrys had frowned, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “No, it was that special”, you muttered back, eyes getting lost in his. And that was enough for him. Fenrys had been a goner ever since. His heart calling out to yours beat after beat.

“Can we get another one?”, Lorcan lifted his empty cup at you as you scurried through the tavern. “Don’t bother her”, Fenrys was quick to clip back but you only threw their table a smile, “Lorcan, you asking nicely… Scribble the date down for me boys”, you mussed, causing Lorcan to roll his eyes. “You’re doing okay?”, you stepped aside, letting another girl pass through. Giving you enough of a reason to brush your fingers against Fenry’s palm. He simply nodded, looking around the room. You knew that he hated crowded places like this but he came back for you. And that was a gesture in itself. So not wanting to put more pressure on him, with a slight squeeze to his wrist you turned back, hurrying to fill the empty glasses.

It made his guts turn that he couldn’t claim you like other males. That he wasn’t playful. That he didn’t pull you into his embrace as you walked by. Fenrys was envious of the smile you kept giving to others. Of the flirtatious comments, those drunks gave you. And a part of him screamed that you deserved them more than him. That you would be happier with them.

“Don’t do this, boy”, Gavriel’s voice cut through Fenrys’s thoughts like a blade. “I ain’t doing nothing”, Fenrys scowled, eyes still fixed on you laughing at a joke some random bloke had told you. Doubting that it was that funny. “She waited for you and she’s been choosing you for months. You would be a prick to break her heart now”, the older male stated but that only annoyed Fenrys more. “You know nothing about us”, the white wolf stated firmly. “Oh, I know more than you know, clearly”, Gavriel inclined his head towards you and Fenrys was met with your worried glance from across the tavern. You must have sensed the tension. Fenrys simply gritted his teeth before pushing to stand, showing the double-sided door open as he went.

The late-night glow glistened in the lake in front of him. The only thing disturbing the peace was the occasional pebble Fenrys threw into the water. “Here you are”, the voice drifted through the night but Fenrys didn’t turn. “You had me worried, love. Did something happen”, your soft palm grazed his shoulders as you sat next to him.

“Do you want to be with me?”, the question left Fenrys’s lips before he could even think it through. “What… why are you asking me this?”, you frowned, “I’ve been choosing you every day for a while now, Fenrys”. “Choosing yes, but that can be from obligation”, Fenrys stated, “You feel sorry for me so you stay”. His words hit you like a blow. You wanted to be mad with him but instead, you reached your hooking your finger beneath his chin, turning his face towards you.

“I love you and I will fight your demons with you”, you stated firmly, “You are worthy of love and I will give it all to you. I’ll love you for all the people who didn’t”. Fenrys eyes glistened with tears as he watched you. “I can’t give you most things other men can”, he argued but you only shook your head, “As long as you love me behind the closed doors, as long as you find comfort in me - I don’t need anything else”, you reassured him and finally he nodded alongside your words. “Don’t leave me”, he whispered, “I won’t survive if…”, “I am not going anywhere. I’m with you. I chose you and you are my life now, Fenrys”, you leaned in pressing your forehead to his. His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you in, head on your shoulder as he breathed you in. He didn’t say anything else, you knew that he wanted to. You knew what three words lay sealed behind those lips so pushed your fingers through his hair softly, you whispered against his ear, “I love you too, Fen”, before pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

[swamp-chicken]

distant worlds, ethubs, 2042 words

“You know, I really should have established a timeline for how long I would be your employee,” Bdubs sighs, stocking boxes with enderpearls. “Because I’m sure not doing this forever.”

Etho is sitting at his desk, idly doodling in the corner of his accounting book. “Aw, you’re not?”

Bdubs stretches, cracking his neck. “No! I need to go and build stuff! Make things! I have my own life, you know.”

Bdubs’ pink shorts are riding up a little. Etho tries not to look. “Mmhmm.” he says instead, his go-to when he loses track of a conversation. The doodle on his accounting book is starting to look suspiciously like a series of little hearts. Etho hastily scribbles them out. 

‘You know, you don’t have to sit here and supervise me. I’m not going to wreck your shop or anything.”

“Yeah, but…” But it’s been years since Etho has had Bdubs like this, working at his side. 

Bdubs sighs dramatically. “You don’t trust me?!”

Etho spirals the pen around the page. “You’re a trainee, I gotta keep you on the straight and narrow.” In this case, lying is less pathetic than telling the truth.

Bdubs huffs, but doesn’t argue. They subside back into silence, Etho stifling a smile at the muffled expletive Bdubs lets out when a shulker box closes on his hand. 

The pen travels across the page.

Years ago, a day like this wouldn’t have been so rare. 

 ———

Bdubs was humming and hawing over Etho’s newly-constructed bridge.

“It’s bad,” Etho sighed.  “You can say it’s bad.”

“No, no, no,” Bdubs chided. “No one’s saying that. It just needs a little… umm…“ he rummaged through his inventory, then brightened. “Leaves! Dude, just add some leaves.” He scattered some across the bridge railing with a flourish. “See? Fixes everything.”

Etho hummed, unconvinced. “And then maybe some… trap doors under those?”

Bdubs clapped his hands. “Oh yes, that’ll do it.”

Etho placed the trap doors and stepped back to take in the full picture alongside Bdubs. “I dunno…”

Bdubs’ hand dropped to his shoulder and squeezed. His touch was distractingly warm. “It looks great! Very rustic.” 

Etho tilted his head. It did look a little better than before. 

Satisfied that today’s job was mostly done, he went to go empty his inventory. Bdubs decided to stick around as he worked. He had been doing that a lot more lately. 

Etho put away the final stack of cobblestone and cleared his throat. “There’s actually, uh, something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bdubs was tooling around on Beyonc, showing off her elegant lines and five-block jump.

Etho watched them circle the area and tried to breathe through his sudden spike of anxiety.“Remember the game we worked on? In the modded server?”

Bdubs kicked Beyonc into a flying leap that landed her on top of Etho’s chest stack. “How could I forget? All those hours wasted!”

“Well, yeah.” Etho chewed his lip. “I was actually thinking of building something like that here. In vanilla.”

“You can do that? With redstone?”

Etho shrugged. “I can try.”

Bdubs snorted. “Friggin’ genius.”

“The thing is, though…”

Bdubs nudged Beyonc forward and she landed gracefully before Etho.

“The thing is though…” Etho continued. “I actually may need help—” 

“I’ll do it,” Bdubs interrupted, before Etho had even finished his sentence. 

“You sure?” Etho hesitated. “I don’t want you to put you on the spot or anything…”

“Of course!” Beyonc reared and Bdubs sat comfortably astride her. “We’ll do it together. As a team.”

It was Etho’s first time leading a big project, so he wanted it to do things right. He chose the location and dug out the area himself. He even decided to build a worker’s shack where he and Bdubs could sleep and store all of their materials. 

In retrospect, Etho thought as he mapped out the floorplan, marking two separate bedrooms for him and Bdubs, he shouldn’t have been nervous about inviting Bdubs to join. Bdubs was a kind person and they had already tackled several projects together.

Etho paused. So kind that he probably felt like he couldn’t turn Etho down. So kind that he unflinchingly put up with all of Etho’s various idiosyncrasies and insistences. So kind that, any time they had a disagreement, he would capitulate with a laugh, easy and unbothered.

“You don’t have to help,” Etho blurted the first time Bdubs came to visit the worker’s shack. 

Bdubs was standing in the doorway of the bedroom Etho had built for him, but still a glimmer of uncertainty crossed his face. “What, you don’t want me here?”

There was a lump in Etho’s throat. “No, I just…I don’t want to force you into anything.”

Bdubs placed his bed down in the room like a declaration. “There’s no forcing.” He met Etho’s gaze and smiled, so warmly that Etho felt it in his chest. “I’m gonna decorate this place so good.”

Etho had worked with Bdubs before, but he had never lived with him. It was different, not having to say their goodbyes at the end of the day.  Instead, they walked back to the worker’s shack side by side, chattering about everything and nothing. It was different, waking up in the morning and finding Bdubs already in the kitchen, sleep-mussed and cooking, asking Etho how he liked his eggs. 

It was different— Bdubs’ toothbrush in the bathroom, the wet puddle after he showered. The flowers that appeared in the windowsill and the laughter that echoed through the halls. Prepared meals, easy company, warm nights of doing nothing much but enjoying each other’s presence.

It was a different kind of torture, Etho learned, having Bdubs so near and liking him so much. He was too kind, making eggs just the way Etho liked, telling stories that made him laugh, helping unflinchingly with the enormous task of building this arena. He was so kind that Etho couldn’t help falling in love with him. 

Nights were the worst, were the time when Etho felt furthest from any semblance of rationality or self-control. Lying in bed, staring through the darkness, he felt hyperaware that Bdubs lay just a short distance across the hall. So kind that he just might let Etho climb into bed with him. 

Etho rolled over and willed himself to sleep. 

Days passed, and then weeks. Spring was pushing into summer and the days were getting hotter. One particular day the heat was so oppressive that it even invaded the underground bunker where Etho had been doing most of the redstone wiring. 

When the sweat started dripping into Etho’s eyes, he had no choice but to take a break. He stood, wiping sweat from his face with his shirt bottom, and took a deep draught from his water bucket.

Bdubs, he knew, was probably even worse off. He was building outside in the blazing sun. Etho decided to check on him. He felt bad that Bdubs was working so hard on a project that Etho himself wasn’t certain they could finish. 

The end of the season had been announced a week ago and since then they had been scrambling to complete the arena before they had to leave this world and go to the next. There was a pit in Etho’s stomach every time he thought about it. This had happened to them last time, and now it was happening on the project that he was leading— the project that he had roped Bdubs into, that they had spent so much time on.

The worst part, though, was leaving their home. Etho didn’t know when he had started calling the worker’s shack home, but he had. It certainly felt more like home than any other place he had built on the server. He couldn’t deny that was in a large part due to Bdubs’ presence. 

He didn’t know what the next world would hold. He didn’t know if he would find an excuse to live with Bdubs again. He didn’t even know if Bdubs would want to work with him again, especially after this project had turned out to be such a thankless grind.

Etho found Bdubs building on the outskirts of the arena. He was shirtless, sweat beading along his shoulderblades. The sight was so overwhelming that Etho almost turned to leave.

Bdubs was grunting with the effort of building a wall, dropping blocks into place. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” Etho ventured once he felt more in-control. “I’m not even paying you.”

Bdubs put his blocks down with a heavy sigh. “You think at this point my ego’s not all tied up in this too?”

Etho snorted and drew near. “Good point.” This close, he could see the smile lines crinkling at the corner of Bdubs’ eyes. “Want a break?” He held out his water bucket and a snack. 

“Golden carrots!” Bdubs exclaimed. “You spoil me.”

He took the water bucket first, though, and drank from it deeply. Etho’s eyes were drawn to his throat as he swallowed, to the sweat droplets that chased each other down his torso. 

“Ahh,” Bdubs sighed, refreshed, and Etho snapped his gaze upwards. “Do you mind?” Bdubs asked, gesturing to the water.

Etho shook his head, confused, but before he had much time to ponder, Bdubs was tipping the bucket over his own head, sending water crashing down around him. 

Etho squawked and hopped backwards out of the splash zone.

“Oh,” Bdubs groaned, “Oh, that feels so good.” His hair was dripping, plastered to his head. Water was still sheeting down his body and soaking into his jeans. His eyes fluttered open and he caught Etho’s shocked gaze. He blinked. “You said you didn’t mind!” 

There was a note of petulance in Bdubs’ voice that wouldn’t have been there a few months ago, before they had started living in each other’s pockets. Before Bdubs—before he was comfortable—

Something inside Etho snapped. 

Bdubs lifted the bucket uncertainly, “I can get more water, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Etho carefully took the bucket out of Bdubs’ hands. 

“…Etho?” Bdubs was stepping back awkwardly, falling back on those sloppy forms that had gotten him killed by Etho more than once.

Etho grabbed Bdubs’ hand and Bdubs froze, blinking up at him from under his soaked fringe, eyes soft and worried. 

“You—“ Etho tried. “I—“ His ears burned with embarrassment.

He gave up on speaking and pulled the mask underneath his chin, pressed his lips to Bdubs’ hand.

“Oh,” Bdubs said. So kind that he didn’t pull away.

Etho turned Bdubs’ hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm.

“Oh,” Bdubs said again, voice hushed. “You don’t— do you?”

———

Etho wants to reach out, wants to take Bdubs hand, but he can’t. He’s too afraid Bdubs will run through his fingers like water, melt away like he has so many times before.

Bdubs is squirmy that way, surprisingly hard to pin down. One minute he’s swearing his eternal devotion, the next he’s mocking Etho, eyes gleaming with mirth. There’s months and years he’s not even there at all, times when he’s nothing but a sore spot in Etho’s memory. 

That day in the unfinished arena, Bdubs had kissed him. His hair had dripped into Etho’s eyes. Etho hadn’t thought anything of kindness that night when they curled together, Etho’s chin propped on his chest. Bdubs was too busy looking at him like he was a puzzle he had found the last piece to. 

Things change, Etho knows. That world ended, a new one began. Bdubs never kissed him again. 

It can never be like what it once was, Etho fears. Here is too distant from there.

“Done!” Bdubs announces. “Your enderpearls are all sorted. Now can I leave?”

Etho sighs, but he doesn’t have any good reason to keep Bdubs longer. “Yeah, that should be it for today.” 

Bdubs is already packing his inventory. He pauses on his way out the door. “You know, you didn’t even comment on my uniform.”

Etho is caught off guard. “I—I didn’t?”

Bdubs gives a spin. His legs are on full display. “I made it just for you!”

Etho swallows. When he meets Bdubs’ gaze, he winks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Your embarrassment lingers, while Bradley's past finds a new way to interrupt his pursuit of you.

Warnings: Angst, swears, maybe some fluff

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

Bradley barely made it back to the house and into his bedroom before he was jerking off. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he groaned, reaching for some tissues just in time. You were too much. It was unbelievable. He had never had to work this hard for a girl before. He had never had to get himself off this many times before sealing the deal before. He was either losing his touch, or you were different. 

But as he went to flush the tissues down the toilet and saw his bedroom door on the way, he knew it was the latter. And by this point, Jeff must know you were Bradley's Sugar and that he wasn't going to give you up without a fight. 

He collapsed back onto his bed and couldn't stop thinking about you. He had walked you to your final class with a semi that was definitely evident to you. It didn't matter though; you had been embarrassed by what happened in the study room, even though it was actually unbelievably sexy. Bradley had seen a lot, but no girl had ever reacted to him quite like that before. Now he was thinking about wedging that door closed next week and fucking you right on the study table.

Jeff had been right, you were a nice girl. But now Bradley knew you could also get a little dirty. This was a combination he had never had before. His cock jumped again in anticipation. 

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

You were so embarrassed, you wanted to die. You had orgasmed from rubbing yourself against Bradley in the study room, and then you had to go to class. It was bad enough that he walked you there when all you wanted to do was jump him in the middle of the sidewalk, but then you couldn't stop thinking about him while your professor lectured. 

It was a combination of everything with him. He had the prettiest brown eyes and soft, wavy hair. His voice made you wet, and he smelled so good you wanted to rub yourself against him all the time. And you got carried away. You bet Phoebe never did anything so needy before. 

By the time Friday evening rolled around, you were still too embarrassed to even fathom going to the party. If Janessa was ever home instead of being glued to Tyson's mouth, you might have asked her for some advice. 

But you had to go. You had already promised Bradley you would be there, and he'd probably just come find you if you didn't show. He had also been texting you nonstop. So you changed into your tightest jeans and your lowest cut shirt and pulled your hair back. 

"Oh my God!" you gasped when you looked in the mirror to touch up your makeup. The hickey Bradley left on your neck was darker today, and it was so noticeable, you sighed in relief that you had worn your hair down to class earlier.

You snapped a quick selfie of your neck with your head posed in an appealing way and sent it to him with the caption Do you think anyone noticed this today?

He wrote back almost immediately while you were fixing your mascara. 

I hope so, Sugar. When you come hang out with me tonight, everyone is gonna know who gave you that mark. And don't you dare cover it up. 

You whimpered just reading the text. Knowing you, you'd probably embarrass yourself again tonight by rubbing yourself on him in front of his fraternity brothers or something. You couldn't believe he was even still texting you. But you really did want to go to the party, because you wanted to see him, and you were curious about the state of his bedroom door. 

He had told you he painted his door just for you, but were there some other names up there now as well? Were more girls trying to get his attention? You'd be tempted to scribble them out if there were. 

You strolled to the Beta house, almost reaching the front porch by the time you realized you were going to have to deal with Jeff at some point. 

"Shit," you muttered to yourself. You were glancing around, hoping to see Janessa, but you had no luck. You were about to text Bradley and ask where he was, but you smiled and took off in the direction of the kitchen. 

When you looked inside, he was there, sitting on the counter and smiling at you in his backwards cap. 

"Were you looking for me?" he asked softly as you made your way toward him. 

You could feel a warmth heating your cheeks. "That depends. Were you waiting here for me?"

"Of course I was, Sugar. Missed you," he said, jumping down as you approached him. 

Cautiously, you eased your hands up his chest and around his neck. You watched his unguarded eyes as a genuine smile touched his lips. 

"You really missed me?" you asked, running your fingers along his neck.

He responded by grabbing your hips and kissing you. You moaned as he turned you so your backside was against the kitchen counter. He had you gently pinned there, but his kisses were unhurried and lingering, every little nip and nibble going right to your core. 

His fingers felt strong through the denim fabric as he held you in place. And when you reached your fingers up into his hair and knocked his hat on the floor, he didn't stop kissing you until you gasped.

"I don't know, Sugar. You tell me," he whispered, running the tip of his nose along your hickey and making you giggle. "Does it seem like I missed you?"

You smiled as he gently kissed along the mark he'd made on your neck the previous day. "Yeah, it seems that way, Beer Boy. Shocking, considering I embarrassed myself like that yesterday," you whispered. 

Bradley examined your face with a smirk. "That poor kid. He's probably still thinking about your legs and your soft moans. His dick's probably been hard since he interrupted us. Never gonna feel satisfied again."

"Bradley!" you whined, burying your face against his chest. "Stop, I'm still mortified!"

He chuckled deep in his chest, and it was such a pleasant sound, you burrowed in deeper. "Sugar, that was so hot yesterday, I'm considering begging you to do it again. I already couldn't stop thinking about you, and that just made it a hundred times worse."

You bit your lip and looked up at him, and you just knew your cheeks must have been bright pink. "I can't stop thinking about you either," you told him. 

He nodded his head before kissing you once more and then he picked up his hat. 

"That's just the way I like it," he told you, putting his hat on your head and leading you out into the party. 

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

Bradley received a few curious looks as he led you through the house, holding your hand in his. People were used to seeing him with Phoebe or other girls wearing barely any clothing. They were not in fact used to seeing him with someone like you, and the fact that he'd put his hat on your head felt a little like he was claiming you in a way that was unlike him.

But every time you looked at him, he thought maybe he liked being this way. He liked working for and earning your attention. He liked you. He liked that you had your hair pulled up and everyone could see your hickey. 

When he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your cheek, about to suggest he take you upstairs, he ran into Tyson. He watched Janessa's eyes go wide as she immediately pulled you away from Bradley and started whispering to you.

You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled, and Bradley considered dragging you upstairs like a caveman. 

"I'll grab us some drinks," he told you, and with a sigh, he doubled back to the kitchen with Tyson. 

"Wow, dude. Does Jeff know about this?" Tyson asked him as he rooted around in the refrigerator. 

Bradley snorted. "I'm not exactly trying to hide anything."

"No. You definitely aren't." Tyson opened a can of beer while Bradley grabbed two bottles of the kind he knew you liked. He knew better than to start drinking anything stronger. "You and Phoebe off again?"

Even just the mention of her name irritated Bradley. "Yeah. For good."

Tyson just nodded his head. "That's cool. Phoebe's mean." Bradley laughed a little bit as Tyson asked, "You know Jeff is going to freak out, right?"

Bradley distracted himself by grabbing the bottle opener from the drawer and putting it in his pocket. "Jeff has been fucking freaking out since July, when I got his best friend kicked out of Beta. So why should this be any different?"

"Hey, I'm on your side man. Chase was a dick, and he had it coming. But Jeff is used to being the top dog around here. Best grades, Dean's list and all that shit." 

That was the thing about Jeff; Bradley made Dean's list too, but he never made a big deal out of it. He never talked about his scholarships, or how scared he had been that he'd get kicked out of school before his senior year for fighting. If he didn't graduate from UVA on time and without debt, he was absolutely fucked.  

But Bradley honestly didn't care what anyone else thought about you and him. He was certain he'd be better for you than Jeff. "Then I guess this will take some getting used to for him." He turned and left the kitchen before Tyson could say anything else. 

As Bradley approached you from behind, he saw the mark on your neck again. Gorgeous. He automatically kissed you there, startling you and making you giggle. 

"Beer Boy! You scared me," you told him over the music. Janessa was looking between the two of you, openly curious as he kissed your neck. Bradley wondered what you had told your roommate. Just looking at Janessa, he was almost surprised he had ever been interested in her. Thankfully she was completely distracted by Tyson now, because Bradley didn't want any loose ends. 

He kissed his way up to your ear and whispered, "Wanna go upstairs?"

You turned to look at him, and the subtle nod and trusting look you gave him had his heart rate speeding up. "Let's go," you told him, heading for the stairs with Bradley at your heels.

"Enjoy his big dick," Janessa whispered to you, but Bradley heard it so clearly, he had no doubt you did too. You froze in place and shot a confused look at Janessa before looking back at him.

Bradley let his head tip back as he stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "Thanks a lot, Janessa," he muttered, terrified to look at your face again.

"What? It was just a blowjob. Chill out," Janessa said, but she was already on her way over to where Tyson was playing flip cup. 

Bradley exhaled deeply and chanced a look at your face. Now you looked a little bit concerned, and he wished he had no knowledge of Janessa's godawful oral sex capabilities.  

"When did that happen?" you asked softly. Oh fuck, you looked like you might cry. "This week?" 

"Fuck. No. Not this week, Sugar. That was before I met you. And it was just one time. And nothing more." 

You nodded your head, pouting at him. "Oh. I just didn't know that Janessa was on your roster."

Bradley shifted the beer bottles to his left hand and reached for you with his right. "I don't have a roster anymore," he said, his voice rough to his own ears.

You examined his face. He could just tell he was going to blow it with you. No way you'd want to be embarrassed by him. Re-painting his door was one thing, but actually being good enough was another thing entirely. And now he knew he had no chance with you tonight. 

"You wanna go hang out in the living room?" he asked. "Or I can walk you home, make sure you get there safely."

Your brow scrunched up. "I thought we were going upstairs."

"Yeah, okay. We can still go upstairs. We can... drink these beers and talk."

"Sounds good," you said, taking his hand again and heading to his room.

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

You were in way over your head now. This was bad. Bradley was bad for you, and you still wanted him. You were still going to his bedroom, and seemingly nothing was going to stop you from doing whatever he wanted. 

You had been wondering where Jeff was, feeling a little apprehensive about him seeing you with Bradley. Everything felt like red flag after red flag cropping up in your path, but as soon as you saw that Bradley's door was just as you had left it, you felt more at ease. 

Bradley watched you skirt around the edge of his room and flip through his English 400 composition notebook. "Is one of those for me?" you finally asked him, nodding toward the beers he was still holding.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, retrieving a bottle opener from his pocket. "Learned the hard way that you shouldn't open beers for girls if they don't see you doing it. I opened six beers last year and then I had to drink them all."

You laughed and he looked up to meet your eyes. "Yeah, some guys are creepy. Don't ever give girls open drinks."

"Never again. And those weren't the good beers either, they were shit ones that I had to force down."

"That would have been fun to watch," you said as you took a sip. "So why do you let me drink the good beers?"

Bradley smiled at you. "Because you're cute. And at first it was kind of fun to irritate Jeff. But now it's because you can have anything you want, Sugar."

You rolled your eyes and tried not to grin. "Is it okay if I sit on your bed?" you asked, swallowing against the nervous feeling creeping up inside you.

"Of course," he whispered. "Anything you want."

"You can sit too, Beer Boy."

And so he did. Right next to you, so your thigh was touching his. You sipped your beer silently, unsure about how to proceed with him. Bradley had gotten you so fucking horny yesterday, you came in his lap while you were both fully clothed. When you showed up to the party tonight, he had kissed you right away. He had kissed you in front of his friends. But now you felt apprehensive, and it was hard to pinpoint what would make things better. 

Just as you were about to ask him to walk you home, he said, "The thing about you is... you're different. And I'm not sure what to do."

You turned to look at him as he peeled the label off of his beer. "I'm different?"

Bradley stayed focused on peeling as he said, "No.... you're not different. Better, maybe? I'm not sure. I think... maybe I'm different now. Like, I have been for months. And I've been trying to force myself to be the same, because it seems easier. I guess. That probably doesn't make any sense."  He downed the rest of his beer in one go and set the empty on his bookshelf before he looked at you. 

"It kind of makes sense," you told him as you set your bottle down as well. "I tried to force myself to keep liking Jeff even though I knew I liked you better as soon as I met you," you told him with a soft laugh. 

He smiled sadly at you. "Look, Sugar, I can't change what happened with Janessa, even though I wish I could. I didn't even know you were her roommate then. And... I mean, I know it's obvious how girls see me now. And I know it's not always flattering. I'm... an easy option."

You were nowhere near as experienced as he was, but you didn't see him in an unflattering way. Bradley did everything better than Jeff did. He was funnier, sweeter, more honest, he kissed you better, he only touched you when you welcomed it. You ran your hand up his thigh, and you heard his breath catch. "I can only think of flattering things, Beer Boy."

"Sugar," he whispered, pleading with you in some way.

"Did you paint your door just for me?" you asked, turning to face him.

He shook his head and licked his lips. "No. I painted it for myself, too."

You leaned in and kissed him, accidentally knocking his hat off of your own head this time. You caught him off guard, and it took a few seconds for him to return your affection, but when he did, he took your breath away. 

"Sugar," he whispered against your lips, his mouth soft yet firm against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. It was like the study room, but also completely different. This time you were really alone, and could have done anything you wanted with him, but his lips were more indulgent this time. He was working you up in a different way. 

He rubbed his parted lips along your neck, stroking your collarbone with his tongue. You rocked your hips against him once, and immediately you were on your back with him on top of you. A startled laugh escaped your lips as Bradley sat up and tossed your shoes across the room followed by his, and then he was on top of you again. 

"Just to be clear, I don't think we should sleep together tonight," he told you softly before stroking up your sides with his thumbs and kissing your cleavage. 

Your broken moan was so loud, you watched a satisfied grin spread across his face. "So you're just going to tease me then?" you asked, your voice already sounding ragged. "Tease me and send me home?"

"No." Bradley kissed the tops of your breasts, and his flushed cheeks had you squirming underneath him. "I'm going to show you how sweet you are, and then I'm going to walk you home."

"Fuck," you whined as he worked his lips and tongue against all of your exposed skin. Everything he did felt good, and you were so wet and ready for more. But he never put his hands under your clothing and never said anything more than Sugar.

You were limp and needy and barely able to reciprocate when his lips returned to yours. You could feel that he was hard where his erection pressed against your thigh. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him to your core, rubbing yourself against him there. 

"Bradley," you whined, knowing you didn't want a repeat of the library scenario, but you couldn't help yourself. 

"You're not making my plans easy for me," he ground out. "So fucking hot."

He placed three firm kisses along your jaw and then wrenched himself out of your grasp. You could see how long and hard he was through his pants, and he adjusted himself as he sat up between your thighs. He just stared at you where you were propped up on your elbows, his eyes subtly moving along your face and your body. 

When your breathing started to even out, you smiled at him and sat up. He collected you in his arms and held you for a while, letting you kiss and touch his scars. 

He finally asked, "Will you let me walk you home?"

"Yes."

Bradley helped you put your shoes on and he gave you one of his sweatshirts to wear. It was huge on you, and you melted a tiny bit as he cuffed the sleeves for you. Then he kissed you against the wall in the hallway for so long, you thought maybe he was going to change his mind and let you take him back to his bed. 

"It's so late, Sugar," he told you, taking your hand and walking down the stairs. The blaring music assaulted your senses once more as you both wove your way through the bodies and spilled drinks. 

You'd been wondering where Jeff was earlier, and when you saw him making out with a girl from your biology lab, you felt nothing. Bradley glanced back at you, gauging your reaction, but you just smiled at him. 

"Let's go," he told you, and soon you were out in the cool, night air with his arm wrapped around you and his gorgeous voice in your ears. 

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

Thanks for loving this FratBaby! Thanks @mak-32 for everything with this fic! This one's for you, Mak!

PART 6

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[happyandticklish]

As You Wish

Notes: Publishing all the fics today! It's been a while since I've put my favorite little guys through a situation, so I have returned to torment Damien once more. In an AU where it's after everything went down but things turned out better for the two of them and they get to live out a happy life together ❤️

Summary: Mark and Damien hold a battle of wills where losing is the only way to get what you want.

“You’re not ticklish?”

“No.”

“Then how come you’re squirming?”

“I’m n—hmmehe n-not, look okay, can you just—”

“You completely are, there’s no point in lying.”

“Well, if I am, that’s not my fault, now is it?”

“So, you’re saying your movements are out of your control, then?”

“That’s is not what I’m saying, you’re just being difficult.”

“Mmm, difficult how?”

They had been at this for an hour now and Damien was seriously considering throwing in the towel if it went on any longer. Mark’s hands were skimming up and down his sides under his shirt, a touch that were supposably meant to be comforting but was anything but from Damien’s perspective. Soft lips pressed kiss after kiss after kiss into his neck, just barely brushing the skin in a manner that had him helplessly tensing up every time.

The kiss landed underneath his ear and he growled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Mark.”

“Damien. Something the matter?”

“You know damn well—”

“No, I don’t, because you have been very insistent that you are fine and that this is not bothering you whatsoever.” He was smug. Damien could hear it in his voice and he wanted to punch him. He wanted to turn around and kiss him. He wanted him to dig his fingers in just a little harder. “Which we both know is a lie, but as the game goes, you don’t get what you want till you admit it.”

It was a stupid game, largely because it played off of Damien’s least favorite activity—not getting what he wanted. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Every ounce of desire he had was going into Mark, making him want to dig his fingers in, making him crave Damien’s laughter. And, sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, the nails dragging up his sides would scribble over his ribs in an almost crazed frenzy and Damien would choke and fall back into his arms with a rush of relief. Then, in the next moment, Mark would recover, looking a bit flushed himself, and go back to his teasing game. He was barely holding on, but so was Damien, and so it all came down to who broke first.

Damien bit his lip as Mark teased skittering touches over his stomach, his skin jumping and twitching under his hands. Every part of him wanted to squirm away or at the very least grab Mark's hands, but he couldn’t risk that ending this and leaving him entirely unsatisfied for the night. “C’mon, Mark, I know you can feel it, so why don’t you just do it already.”

“Feel what, Damien?” He couldn’t see it with his eyes closed, but he could practically feel Mark’s raised eyebrow. “What desire are you projecting tonight? Enlighten me.”

Damien sucked in a shuddering breath. “Fuck you.”

Fail once, try again. Fail seventeen thousand times, try again anyway because it has to work eventually. He closed his eyes, feeling around for the tether in Mark’s mind. He focused on his psyche, grabbing onto his consciousness and molding it between his fingers. Damien let out a soft whine of effort, barely perceivable if you weren’t listening for it. He felt Mark tense behind him and grinned in delight when the scribbly touches turned to squeezes pinching gently at his hip and up his sides.

“Oh, ho, you are—” The squeeze tightened until Damien nearly fell out of his lap with a bark of laughter. “This is entirely cheating. And dangerous. You have no idea what I want to do with you—do to you.”

Damien squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling shakily. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Don’t let him see how horrendously giddy the last couple seconds made you. “Please. You’re at my mercy, don’t you remember? This night will go however I say it will go.”

The teasing touches had returned to just that, sliding up his ribs carefully and forcing an involuntary shudder as they edged too close to the top. “Right, well, right now your mercy wants you to be at my mercy, so maybe you should ease up on your desire just a bit so I don’t actually kill you.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

“I mean it, Damien.” Damien could hear the serious edge in his voice—or rather how hard he was trying to keep a serious edge in his voice. It was clear that desire and excitement were winning out over any kind of concern for Damien’s wellbeing. “I don’t think you understand the full breadth of your own powers sometimes. Not to mention the fact that I—well. It’s not a desire that I wouldn’t already be feeling. It’s possible I’d never stop at this rate.”

“I’d stop you if you went too far.”

“Would you?”

Would he? Damien kept his mouth shut, mostly because he himself didn’t know the answer to that question. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine something like this ever going too far. Every time the teasing touches ended, every time Mark finally let him go for the night, every time the laughter died down on his lips, Damien couldn’t help but yearn for more. He had learned to get some of that yearning under control for fear of not wanting to overwhelm Mark with it, but it thrummed underneath his skin in a wild frenzy of want that one day would boil over and consume them both.

Tonight could be that night.

Mark had finally let go of his sides, gaining enough control to move again without destroying the other man. He stayed on the safe side with pleasant touches this time, scratching his back in a manner hard enough to only feel good. It was a decent strategy, as it threw Damien’s wants into disarray. It’s hard to want someone to do something to you when it comes at the price of a different pleasure ending. He hummed reluctantly, leaning his head forward on Mark’s shoulder. Strands of his hair clung to his forehead. They were both sweaty, not from any physical exertion per se, but from the mental strain of holding onto their collective willpowers—in Damien’s case, trying to hold onto both of theirs.

Mark glanced down at the mop of hair disguising the man he was currently tormenting. “You okay?”

“Feels good.”

Mark smiled. He dragged his nails in sharp loops down his back, causing Damien to shudder. And then his smile tensed and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Goddamnit. You’re good. It’s specific tonight, too. The hips, huh?”

Damien’s heart leapt. A giddy smile tugged at his features and he found himself glad that his face was covered. He shook his head against the other man instead of giving any kind of real answer, but evidently that wasn’t enough to satiate him. Damien couldn’t tell if he was prompting the teasing or if Mark was simply eager to win. Possibly, both.

“Normally when it comes to this particular want, the desire is too overwhelming for me to understand its individual parts. But tonight…” Mark’s hands slid from his back, coming to rest at his sides—less than an inch above where Damien wanted them. “It’s the hips. To start, something light and gentle, a casual spidering. Just enough to have you giggling your cocky little head off. Then some pinches to really get you going, and for the finale, I’d dig in and vibrate my thumbs right here—” he tapped a finger against his hip bone—“until you’re begging for even an ounce of mercy. Sound about right?”

Bingo. Damien didn’t respond—couldn’t respond, really, with how hard he was concentrating. His body was shivery, like his whole nervous system was on edge. If Mark had dug in then, it was possible he would have screamed or let out some other embarrassing noise in order to release all this built-up tension.

If he wanted to, he could have made Mark snap right then and there. He had convinced people to do far worse than a bit of tickling, and in this case, Mark wanted it too, so it would have been a breeze to pull off. But he didn’t want to just force him into it. They were playing a tenuous game of tug-o-war, and Damien didn’t want to knock Mark off his feet. He just needed to pull him forward enough to make him break without doing something that might actually kill Damien from how intense it got.

Still, Damien had to admire Mark’s resolve. He was getting a lot better at resisting his ability.

Damien still couldn’t tell if he liked that or not.

Mark had gone back to kissing, though this time it quickly strayed from his neck. He pressed insistently on Damien’s chest, and the other man obediently fell back on the bed to allow Mark more access. Mark rucked up his shirt to his chest, his lips skimming over Damien’s skin—down his ribs, teeth grazing against the skin while his hands rested at his hips, drumming teasingly.

“Mark,” Damien growled out. He gripped Mark’s hair, but didn’t pull him away. “Just—”

“Just?” Mark had paused at his stomach, and the skin there trembled at the proximity. “Use your words, Damien. Just what?”

“Please.”

Mark paused. “I didn’t expect to get that.”

“Oh my god—”

“But you’ll have to be more specific—please what?” Mark glanced up at his flushed face, Damien's brows pinched together in an expression of want. “From how you’re acting, maybe you mean 'please fuck you'?”

Damien choked out a laugh, letting his hand fall over his face. “Don’t be crass. I don’t think we’d still be here if that was it.”

“Fair.”

Mark held horrendously, frustratingly still, waiting for Damien’s concession to give him the permission they both were looking for. Damien gnawed at his lower lip, desire squirming anxiously in his stomach. He was so close. He was still holding onto his pride by a hair and he was considering tipping that desire over the scale just enough to make Mark do what he wanted. It stood at his command, ready for him to wield it.

Mark inhaled shakily, resting his head against Damien’s stomach. They both ignored the jump as Mark’s hair brushed against his bare skin. “Damien, you’re killing me here—”

“Please—fuck, please just fucking tickle me already, Mark, or I swear to god—fuhuhUHUCK!”

Laughter spilled out of Damien in wild waves as fingers scribbled into his hips at last. They were clumsy, frantic movements as both Mark and Damien’s wills worked together to bring the latter to ruin. Still, hours of anticipation had served to ramp Damien’s nerves to such an intensity that it hardly mattered. His hands shot down immediately to try to pry Mark’s off of him to no avail. Normally he tried to keep up some semblance of dignity when the tickling first started, but at this point, he couldn’t be bothered to care what he looked or sounded like. All he knew was that it tickled and he needed to stay like this for as long as they both could last.

Mark’s lips were everywhere, biting, kissing and licking all over his torso in a manner that was unfairly ticklish. Though he was never able to pull off a full beard, Mark had a stubble that he had to tame every once in a while. Damien would never admit it, but he was kind of into the subtle shadow it added to Damien’s face. Now, he wanted to rip off what hair was there and shove it down Mark’s smug throat.

While his mouth was free roaming, however, his hands remained at Damien’s hips. Scribbling, pinching, digging, whatever Damien’s desire wanted in that moment. Mark followed the unspoken instructions to a T, and Damien was going to kill him if he didn’t stop soon.

“Markmarkmark plehehehease!” Damien’s legs kicked out violently, but with Mark in-between his legs, it didn’t do much good. His back was arched and his hair crushed and twisting in fifteen different directions against the bed. Sensation zipped through his body like he was a livewire, forcing his mouth up into a manic grin. He was sure he looked insane. He felt insane. He had never wanted to kiss Mark more. “It fuhuhucking tihihickles, it tickles you d-dihihick!”

“Well, then it seems like I’m doing a good job, doesn’t it?” Mark muttered against his skin. “Now sit back and enjoy yourself. It’s going to be a long night.”

And Damien did just that, pressing himself back against the bed. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to just laugh.

Sometimes, Damien mused later that night, losing could have its benefits.

[minnielvrr]

Oooh I just had an idea for Switch!Leeknow and Switch!Felix. They’re at NY fashion week right? What if after the show they’re relaxing in the hotel and Felix offers LK a massage but also sneaks in tickles for fun. But of course LK has to get Felix back and it turns into a sweet tickle fight. Idk if you like my idea but if you wanna turn it into something go for it, but you don’t have to.

After Party

Lees: Felix, Minho Lers: Minho, Felix Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: this idea inspired me so much🤭thank you for the request anon!!🤗💞

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@jungwon-is-the-one, @reginald-stay09

"Hyungie you were SO nervous and tense today. Your body must be aching," Felix sympathized, cuddling up to the curled figure in the middle of the bed.

They had both showered and were ready to sleep, but the day had been an eventful one and Felix knew he’d have to help the older (and himself) lose a few more joules of energy before they’d actually feel tired.

Minho’s eyes were wide and glassy as he stared blankly at the wall, and Felix found the sight before him endlessly adorable. Over the years, a little of Minho's tsundere nature had leaked into his real persona.

That meant he got shy and flustered much more easily whenever he got a compliment or was teased. And tonight, Lix was craving a glimpse of that side.

He wanted to see Minho red and teary, wanted to have the older squirming and begging Lix to stop through his sweet, unrestrained laughter.

With that vivid image in mind, the younger gently eased Lino back so he was lying with his back to the mattress. The older blinked up in confusion but didn’t resist.

“Let me give you a nice, relaxing massage hyungie.” He told him, scooting down and taking ahold of Minho’s feet. Lix began, working his magic on Lino’s tired soles.

The older sighed and relaxed almost immediately, all but melting into the mattress. “Thanks, Lix,” he said softly, his eyes slipping shut in bliss.

Felix smiled, working diligently until he felt a sudden twitch. Minho didn’t seem to think too much of it, lying still. It made the Aussie smirk in delight, hiding his ulterior motives under his curtain of long hair.

He pressed at the spot, staying there as Minho’s foot jerked and wiggled and the kitten finally opened his eyes to glare at the younger. “Don’t.”

“Now that’s no way to talk to your dongsaeng hyungie~” He teased, rubbing quickly at the spot to have Minho squirming. “What are you trying to do?”

“I'm going to massage you aaaall over hyungie. Don't worry, I won't miss a spot.” He assured and Minho flushed at his words, flopping down and bringing the blanket over his head.

Lix cooed, dragging his nails in slow, deliberate strokes along the sensitive sides of Lino’s feet.

Minho’s foot jolted, little bursts of giggles escaping as he peeked from over the blanket at the way Felix smiled then quickly raked his fingers down his soles once, laughing meanly at how it made Minho squeal.

“Boohohokkie plehehease!! Ihihit’s soHOHO baHAHAHAd!!”

"You really are named perfectly aren't you hyung? LEE Minho suits you well, you were practically destined to be so helplessly sensitive. So ticklish and so adorably shy at the best of times. I'm honestly surprised we don't tickle you more often.”

As he talked Felix started scribbling over the arches, watching in amusement at how it made poor Minho buck and squeal and fist the blanket tightly.

“Lihihihix nohoho!! Ihim tihehehred!! AH-NONONO! shihiHIHIHIHIhit!!”

“Oh? Is this place extra ticklish hyungie?” Felix teased, noticing that Minho seemed to avoid the word.

He scratched under the toes, loving the way it got Minho howling with laughter, kicking out desperately through the sensations.

He tested the area, switching form slow, lazy strokes and quick, insistent motions, observing each reaction it earned.

“NahahahahaHAHAHA! PLEHEASE!! Ihi cahaHAhan’t thehere! GOHODS FELIX!!!”

The kitten was thrown into hysterical cackles at the faster tickles and his laughter would lighten up and get giddier at the slower ones.

It was beautiful…and a little funny.

Then Lix crawled up the bed, gently pulling the blanket aside. Minho’s ears had turned pink, his lips unable to fight off the wide smile that was formed. With a grin, the younger latched his hands onto the kitten’s lower sides.

He kneaded the spot vigorously and laughed along with him as Minho fell apart slowly but surely.

“AHHH SHIT! Lihihixie plehehehHEASE!! ihihi cahAHAN’T TAHAKE IHIT ANYHYHYMOHORE!!”

“Gosh I can’t believe someone this ticklish exists. Even just this,” Lix wiggled a finger in the older’s belly,” can have you so defenseless.”

Felix’s smile was pure evil as he alternated between spots, the feather flying all over Minho’s torso while his free hand ran chaotically all over the Minho’s thighs and hips and belly.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEAHEASE!”

Reality was even better than Felix imagined it. Minho’s eyes were twinkling with mirth, tears slipping down his red cheeks and his lips were pulled back, leaving his bunny teeth on full display.

Broken pleas fell from his mouth in strings and Felix stopped to give the kitten a chance to breathe, stroking his hair gently as the older gasped through his residual giggles.

Felix’s heart swelled in fondness and he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss onto Minho’s forehead, smiling when the older pushed him away shyly.

Felix’s laughter finally subsided as Minho caught his breath, gleaming eyes turning to the younger. Before Felix could protest, Minho swiftly flipped them over and pinned him down.

“Your turn!” Felix heard in a whisper near his ear before Minho flashed a cocky smirk at him and rolled them over, pinning Felix to the bed.

The kitten smirked, "You do realize that applies to you too, right LEE Yongbokkie? Aren't you even *more ‘*sensitive’ than I am?"

“C'mon you can say the word hyung, TICKLE. It's TICKLING that we're doing now and what I did to you a few seconds ago.”

“Shut up!” Minho’s hands descended on the chick’s sides, Lix yelping when he was given a few prods to

“Remind me again, which of us can't handle this even a little bit?” The moment Felix parted his lips to answer, Minho's fingers swooped down, vibrating into the Aussie's abs. Lix shrieked, his hands snapping down to grapple with Minho's but he wasn't nearly strong enough.

“Not so cocky now are you baby? You really thought I wouldn’t get you back for that little stunt you pulled hm?”

Each word brought with it more and more laughter from Felix, his head thrown back as he squealed and giggled and twisted under the never-ending attacks.

The sounds were bright and bubbly, and Minho loved how Felix looked, writhing and laughing his head off. ”Hyuhung! Hyuhuhuhung plehease!! youHUHU knohow ihi wahaHAHAS JUHUST TEHEHEASING!!”

“Do you know what my favorite move is to use on you? I have one for everyone…and yours, are feathers!” Minho exclaimed, pulling out a feather from his jacket pocket.

Felix’s eyes widened as he saw the feather, but before he could protest, Minho’s hands were already moving again, and this time, he knew there would be no escape.

“W-why? How? Wha—ahehehehe hyuhuhungie nohoHOHO!!” His stutters were cut off by peals of laughter when Minho fluttered the soft feather over his neck while one hand still squeezed and scribbled relentlessly at his waist.

His sounds grew more urgent, rising in pitch and then disappearing altogether. Then it would come back louder, breathier and more frantic. Just the way Minho loved it.

He was normally much gentler with the Aussie, treating Lix like his baby but he knew that Lix liked rough tickles a whole lot more on certain days. Today seemed to be one of those times.

So why not humor him?

“FUHUHUHUCK! HYUHUHUNG, CHAHANGE—CHAHAHAHAHANGE SPOHOTS!! PLEASE OHO MY GAHAHAHAHA!!”

“Aww change spots? Not stop? You really like this don’t you?”

“YOUHUHU WOHOHON’T STOHAHAHAHA EHEHEVEN IHIF IHIHIHI TOLD YOUHU!!” Lix protested through wild cackles.

“That’s true.”

“MEHEHEHEANIHIHIE!” Lix bucked and arched and jerked away, finding no reprieve when the older’s hands seamlessly followed his every movement.

The poor boy was hysterical, twisting and squirming as the unbearable took over every nerve on his skin, sending lightning shocks of tickles racing to his brain.

His face and neck were so red and his lashes were wet with tears. Minho went on for a few more moments before stopping, flopping down next to the giggly puddle on the ruffled sheets.

He spooned the little one closer, fluttering light kisses over his freckles as Lixie scrunched his face bashfully. “Stoooop~” He whines, half-heartedly, nuzzling his face in Minho’s chest to escape.

It wasn’t long before the two were quietly snoring away, snuggled close together, with Minho’s hands wrapped protectively over Lixie.

[captainsophiestark]

Exceptions

Grant Ward x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: The Bus kids are stuck at the Triskelion for a while since May and Coulson have a meeting with Fury, but Ward already has important plans that he can't cancel.

Word Count: 1,287

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: To the anon who sent me an idea outline for this, I hope you like it! It got merged with another idea I had, but hopefully, it's still pretty close to what you had in mind :) Thanks for continuing to read stuff for Grant Ward and enabling me to keep writing him- he's my fave, so I'm glad I have at least a few people to share the love with!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Skye's POV

"Alright. May and I will head into our meeting with Director Fury. We'll meet you back here when we're done."

I frowned at Coulson, glancing at FitzSimmons and Ward to see if any of them would say anything. As expected, FitzSimmons just looked at each other, and Ward nodded to Coulson like he'd known this was the plan from the beginning, which I super doubted.

"Okay... and what are we supposed to do in the meantime?" I asked, turning back to Coulson and asking the question that must've been on the rest of our minds. May was already halfway out of the room, and Coulson stopped mid-step to address my question. He smiled.

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

With that, he turned and headed off with May again. I watched him go for a few steps, then put my hands on my hips and turned back to the rest of my group with a sigh.

"Alright, we've been abandoned at one of the biggest SHIELD bases in the world. I probably know the least about this place out of all of us, so... how about you guys? Any ideas?"

I glanced at FitzSimmons, then looked right at Ward. He had his arms crossed, and he shook his head and took a step back the minute my gaze landed on him.

"I don't know what you all are going to do, but I have somewhere I need to be. I'll meet you back here when May and Coulson are done with their meeting. Try not to break anything until then."

With that, he turned on his heel and started marching away. I let him get a few steps, then turned to FitzSimmons.

"So we're gonna follow him, right?"

"Oh, of course."

"Absolutely."

****************

Y/N's POV

A took a slow, steady breath, then refocused on the sample in front of me. I'd been staring through the eyepiece of this microscope for what felt like an eterity, finally getting somewhere with samples I'd been working with for months. I'd been stuck at the Triskelion that whole time, in a lab with the loudest of the loud field and ops agents coming in and out, constant noise and business no matter where we went. All of that was about to be worth it.

The rest of the lab completely faded out around me, even as I scribbled notes without looking at the paper beside me. The handwriting wouldn't be good, but it would be decent enough that I could decipher it later, and it meant I didn't have to take my eyes off the results of the experiment in front of me for a single moment. I'd carefully built my corner of the lab into what it was, a sanctuary from the noise and chaos, the perfect place to tuck away and lose myself in my research.

At least, normally it was. Today, someone had apparently decided to venture into my corner, as a hand on my shoulder made me shoot out of my chair and almost gave me a heart attack.

"Sorry!" came the frantic voice of my best friend, Mandy. "I didn't mean to scare you! I swear, I said your name, like, three times while walking over here."

I put a hand to my chest, taking half a second to catch my breath before turning back to Mandy.

"It's okay. Honestly, I don't think anything could've shaken me out of my focus without scaring me like that. Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to give you a warning. One of the ops agents broke containment and just wandered into the lab. Figured it'd be better if I interrupted you than if he did."

I sighed, long and heavy, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Are you kidding me? How did one of them even get in here-"

I turned to see the man in question and stopped dead in my tracks. Grant Ward, my boyfriend, had just stepped into the lab. I grinned.

"Oh, actually, never mind Mandy. This one's the exception to the rest of the ops people."

"Wow, no kidding. I don't think I've seen you smile like that since your experiment at the Academy won our final projects presentation."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't bother with more than that as Mandy took her leave and Grant finally made his way over to me. His smile matched mine, the two of us bringing out sides of each other most people weren't lucky enough to see.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" I said as Grant finally reached me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tight to his chest. He leaned in to kiss me, and it lasted a few moments longer than I would've let him get away with in public if I hadn't missed him so much.

"I thought I'd make it a surprise. Our team got detoured here last minute for Coulson to have some meeting with Fury. Lucky for us, they didn't need me to be there."

"That is lucky," I agreed, the two of us sharing a smile again. Grant reached up and gently cuped my chin in his hand, pulling me back in for a sweeter, slower version of our earlier kiss. I sighed when he pulled back and settled onto the lab stool next to me, his thigh pressed against mine.

"So. Wanna tell me what you're working on?"

"Happily. But I don't want to spend all the time we have together in this lab, so don't let me get carried away-"

"Don't worry, we should have all of tonight and tomorrow morning, with a small exception in a few hours when I have to meet back up with my team. I thought I could keep you company while you finish up here, and then we could grab some dinner. I found a great restaurant in the city last time I had an undercover mission there, and it'll leave us plenty of time for you to tell me all about this project you're working on."

"Grant, that sounds perfect. How did I get so lucky with you?"

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual." We shared a smile, smaller and softer this time, but no less special. Then, Grant turned to the microscope in front of us. "So... I take it you're doing something with this?"

"Yes! I finally have interesting results to look at, so your visit was well-timed. Let me tell you about what you're seeing here..."

Grant leaned into the microsope, bracing one hand on my thigh as I put one arm around his shoulders and rubbed gentle cirlces there, narrating what he was seeing on the slide as I went. Within the lab, I'd gotten a bit of a reputation for liking my space while I worked. But Grant would always be the exception to that. I was on cloud nine that he was here, and I wasn't going to waste a single moment we had together.

****************

Skye's POV

"I've never seen him smile like that!" Simmons hissed.

"And he always complains about 'technobabble' when I say more than a few three-syllable words in a sentence!" Fitz agreed. I just huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, well, he's not kissing any of us either. I think that might have something to do with the change."

Fitz and Simmons scoffed right along with me, the three of us watching the scene in the Triskelion's lab for a few more moments before finally shaking it off and heading back into the hallway. Whether or not we found something else to occupy our time until May and Coulson were done with their meeting, we at least had something to tease Ward about for the rest of our lives, which I'd take as a win any day.

****************

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