#this has been going on for MONTHS now. MONTHS. I've not been able to write ANYTHING. for MONTHS. cause of this. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xxcxelum · 3 days ago

Text

MOURN NOT FOR ICARUS~

ABOUT: very long, 8562 words

STORY: retelling of the greek myth with an addition to the end

WARNINGS: i mean i guess he dies lol

A/N: i wrote this almost a year ago but i've mentioned it a few times and people said i should post it so im posting it on my writing blog instead of my main.

There was a bird out the window. Icarus could not identify it, for he had never received formal education. However it was small. Each feather on its wings varied in different shades of brown, and it had a black face. Icarus watched as it flapped its beautiful wings, so gracefully flying across the view outside, and delicately landed atop a tall mountainside tree. The small bird did not have a nest in the tree. It only landed on a shaky branch and looked out at the scene below.

Icarus understood why the gentle creature simply perched itself there. He himself was perched at the windowsill, staring out at the ocean below. He found the rhythm of the waves mesmerizing. But more interesting than the movements of the water was what laid below. The tower in which Icarus and his father were trapped in was, though an unfortunate circumstance, built at the edge of a mountain. He could see the sea lapping onto the bottom of the cliff. It was hard not to appreciate the natural beauty of the sight.

Ahead, at the horizon, were more rocks and mountains, more islands. King Minos has imprisoned both Icarus and Daedalus on the island of Crete. After what his father had done, Icarus didn’t see the punishment fit, especially as he had nothing to do with it. Yet there he was, sitting in the tower, admiring the cities from behind a window that would mean certain death if he leaned only a little closer.

“Icarus,” his father’s voice spoke from behind him. The young boy turned around quickly at the call of his name. He was met with the sight of Daedalus working with a collection of feathers and wax, an already agreed upon method to get themselves out of there. “Help me with these wings.”

He was quick to do as he was told, glancing back at the view and the bird only once more before retreating from the windowsill. “Yes, father.” Icarus took those few steps closer to the center of the room, though it wasn’t far since the room was small.

The surrounding walls were old and adorned with nothing but dust and the slight growing of moss between the stones. Even the floor was empty, for there was no reason for King Minos to provide the prisoners with anything other than what was needed to fulfill basic needs, which he classified as food and water. Even those were given sparingly.

Daedalus sat on the ground leaning over the incomplete wings. The frame was already completed, made of materials that Icarus couldn’t quite recognize. He had never been much of an inventor like his father, but although he never took interest in it, he always found it fascinating to watch. His eyes followed his Daedalus’ weathered hands as they bent the wire frame, preparing the wax and feathers. There were leather straps on either side, presumably for their arms when they wore the wings.

Icarus stepped closer and kneeled next to his father. Daedalus said nothing at first, holding the frame out in front of him and assessing his work. Then, with a nod of self-confirmation, he turned to Icarus. “No,” he told the boy when he tried to touch the wire. “Stand up, son. And put your arms out. I must add the feathers, but I cannot do so with the wings on the floor.”

That statement made Icarus’ eyes brighten. He was already excited to fly; he’d been looking forward to it since his father first introduced the idea of it to him months ago. He knew that was the day that it was finally going to happen, the day they were finally going to free themselves from their prison, but now it was becoming more real. Once he had his wings on, all Daedalus had to do was put on his own and they would be able to jump from the window without falling to their deaths.

So, doing as he was told, Icarus stood up and opened his arms. He watched in awe as Daedalus carefully slid the straps of the wings over his arms, the leather cool and smooth against his skin. Icarus hadn’t noticed another strap that was placed upon his torso, attaching the frame to his back.

He could not tell Daedalus’ emotions as he did this, for his face was expressionless, focused solely on not breaking the wings. However once he finished, Daedalus stepped a few steps back as if to admire his creation.

Icarus turned his neck to look at either arm, which were weighed down only slightly by the metal frame attached to them. Though the feathers weren’t done being added, he still smiled. He was only getting closer to the moment of inevitable freedom.

The boy smiled at the thought, and at the wings themselves. Even if they were not finished, and even if he was not one to build such things, he did admire them almost as much as his father did. They were carefully constructed, delicate but strong so that it would be able to support his weight. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, one of genuine joy and excitement.

“I look like a bird, father,” Icarus laughed. It was a small observation, a comparison that made him smile wider. Daedalus’ face had been more critical as he had been examining the wings and how they looked on his son, trying to figure out the best way to attach the feathers, but his gaze softened at the childlike curiosity that came from Icarus. Daedalus’ eyes moved from the frame on the boy’s small body and met Icarus’ eyes, a small smile of his own growing on his face.

“Yes, I suppose you do.” With a nod of approval, Daedalus then decided to begin with the feathers. Icarus continued to admire the wings on his back, waving his arms up and down until his father told him to stop before they broke. Then, Daedalus started working.

He had planned this for a while, but had to be careful as he worked to make sure that everything was done exactly and precisely as it should. He developed a technique of dipping the feathers into wax and carefully placing them on the wired frame of the wings. It took much patience and standing still, which was not easy for a young Icarus. Icarus had been standing there with his arms out for too long, and he was getting restless. Daedalus noticed this and decided to talk to his son in order to distract him from moving too much.

“Do you remember what I’ve told you about flying?” Daedalus asked softly as he worked. He was standing behind him, so Icarus stared out the window as he answered. Icarus noticed the bird was still there.

“Yes, you said that we must be careful,” Icarus replied. “You said that the wings are strong, but not perfect.” Daedalus nodded as he placed another feather on the wings. He was getting closer to finishing.

“And what must we do to be careful?” He pushed, wanting to ensure that Icarus knew what was needed to be safe while flying. Icarus sighed, as he had been warned many times of what to do, even before that day. Daedalus had the idea for so long that he had been explaining the dangers to Icarus far before the wings were close to being constructed.

“Do not fly too high or too low,” the boy spoke, echoing what he’d heard time and time before.

“That’s right. Because too high and the sun will melt the wax, and too low and the water from the sea will dampen the feathers. We do not wish for the wings to break.”

Icarus knew this. He’d been told this plenty of times. Daedalus also understood that the repetition of these rules were most likely an annoyance to Icarus, but he still felt the need to reiterate them. Icarus had always had a sense of curiosity, a look of awe at everything his eyes perceived. He was inquisitive. Sure, Daedalus admired that; he was glad that his son had at least inherited something from him, if not his interest in inventing. But he knew how Icarus could be, and knew that no matter how many times he reminded him, a small part of Icarus would still want to explore the sky. Daedalus had to do his best to emphasize the danger to his son.

However the boy only found it irritating. Icarus knew what to do and knew that if he went too high or too low then the wings would break. It was obvious to him that he wouldn’t be so reckless as to put himself in danger like that, so he didn’t appreciate Daedalus saying the same thing over and over. Yet deep down, Icarus knew that his father only cared for him and wanted him to be safe. So he tried not to let it bother him too much, and to appreciate the love from his father.

Daedalus continued for what was a little under half an hour until he finally finished the wings. When he told him that he was completed, Icarus practically jumped up, though he was already standing. Icarus’ smile only grew wider as he spread his arms out and looked at the wings.

He didn’t know where Daedalus had gotten the feathers, he only knew that he had been collecting them for a while. So Icarus didn’t know which bird they belonged to, however they were a light tan color, almost an off white. Though they weren’t the right shade of brown, he couldn’t help but compare the wings to those of the bird out the window. It was a bird that he had been seeing a lot, though he wasn’t sure if it was the same one each time or simply the same species. Either way, his mind kept returning to the bird as he thought himself to be similar.

Icarus’ excitement was palpable. He laughed as he lifted his arms up and down, mimicking a flapping motion. They were a bit heavier now, though not by much. The feathers were beautiful when they were all pressed together by wax, and he couldn’t even see the frame anymore.

Daedalus looked pleased, not only to see the wings completed, but also to see his son so eager to fly. But of course before they could fly, he had to get his wings on and make them. Daedalus had started a bit on his own before, just to see if it was possible to do while someone wasn’t wearing them, but decided it might be best if someone else were to do it. However he couldn’t let Icarus put them on as he attached the feathers because Icarus was already wearing his pair. So Daedalus had to ever so carefully use the wax, like before, to put the feathers on his own wings.

But that wouldn’t work forever. Eventually, he got to a point where the wings wouldn’t balance somewhere on their own, so he had to put them on and asked Icarus to help him with the last few feathers.

Of course Icarus was more than willing to help. He wanted to be able to feel important, to feel like he was actually doing something useful and aiding their escape rather than just standing there and waiting impatiently for his father to have his wings ready to fly.

Icarus quickly went to stand behind his father, who had already put the almost-done wings on his back, and did as he was directed to finish them. He tried to imitate the movements of Daedalus in the way that he had been using wax to attach the feathers to the wings’ frame. As he spoke he worked, rambling mostly out of anticipation.

“You know, father, when we escape, the first thing I want to do is eat a proper meal. It’s been far too long since we’ve had that opportunity. Actually, maybe I will drink cleaner water first. That is a smarter decision.” Daedalus only listened with an amused smile on his face as his son spoke. “Perhaps the first thing I will eat is an olive.”

That made his father chuckle. “An olive? Is that so?”

Icarus nodded, placing another wax-dipped feather on the wings. “Yes, an olive. I like olives. I haven’t had one since we’ve been imprisoned.”

“Yes, well, the olive tree is the sacred plant of goddess Athena,” he explained, wording things carefully so as to not upset the deity. “And I will tell you, humbly of course, that my genius for inventing and such was a blessing from the goddess of wisdom herself.” That made Icarus’ eyes widen. He hadn’t known that. “So, as my son, perhaps she will favor you and give you the best olive.”

The young boy grinned. It was new information to him that his father was blessed by a goddess, let alone one as powerful as Athena. And the idea that she would favor him as well was exhilarating, even if it only resulted in a single, well-tasting olive.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime to the impatient Icarus, but couldn’t have been more than an hour, they were finished. Icarus placed the last feather on his father’s wings, and Daedalus checked his own and his son’s to make sure they were intact and in the right condition to fly. Icarus, though not saying anything about it, was proud of himself for managing to finish Daedalus’ wings for him, even if the job had been relatively small. Just as he wanted, he felt important, he felt useful.

And now the time had finally come for the wings themselves to be useful.

The moment he decided they were finished, Daedalus got straight to the point. “We must be quick, Icarus,” he told his son. “I do not know how much time we have.” They both knew that he didn’t mean time left in the day; the sun, shining in all its glory, was still directly above them in the sky. However it was King Minos, their captor, who they feared. He did not enter their prison often, almost no one did, but those who were meant to feed them or check on them would come at arbitrary intervals. At any second could someone enter and discover their plan for escape. If that happened, there would certainly be punishments- punishments that Daedalus did not want Icarus to have to live through.

Icarus only nodded, understanding what his father was thinking. He waited for further instruction, but already knew that their next move was going to be: fly.

Daedalus stepped closer to the window starting by simply looking out and assessing the view, noting the height at which they were at and how if the wings were to break or malfunction, they would not be able to survive the fall. Especially not if they landed in the water. He took a deep breath and turned back to Icarus, who had also been looking out the window eagerly.

“I know I have told you countless times before,” Daedalus began once more, wanting to stress as much as possible the dangers to his son. “But you will stay by me. When we jump out this window, give yourself a couple of seconds for the wings to begin gliding; do not panic if you feel you are to fall because you will not fall.” Icarus let out a sigh of irritation, but Daedalus continued. “And you will stay behind me as we fly. As I’ve said, do not go too high, as the sun will melt the wax, and do not go too low, as the water will dampen the feathers. Do you understand?”

Daedalus knew that Icarus understood. He knew how much the boy cared about himself. He knew that he would never do something so reckless as to risk his life, he knew that. Icarus had so much to look forward to in his life; he was young and had much potential. Even if he wasn’t aware of it himself, Daedalus knew that the young boy had so much of his life ahead of him. He would never do something to lose that.

“Yes, father.”

For a few moments, their eyes were met. They both were aware of the risk they were about to take, of how much danger they were putting themselves in. Even if Icarus did as he was told, and even if Daedalus was so sure of his wings, there was always a chance that things would go wrong. Not just the possibility of a flaw in the making of the wings, but also the looming possibility that the gods themselves would interfere.

Zeus was the god of the sky. If he wasn’t happy with them in his domain, he could easily strike them down before they even made it to the next island. Daedalus knew this. That was a risk he was willing to take.

He nodded, and then broke eye contact with his son.

One last time, Icarus looked around the small room that had been their unwelcome home for too long. The cold stone walls and floor. The furnishings, or lack thereof. The damp scent. He was relieved to be leaving, to have the smell of moss overgrowth replaced by that of the ocean. Not only relieved but, of course, excited. He took a deep breath and turned back to the window. The bird was still there, sitting out on the tree. But when it suddenly got up and flew away, Icarus no longer watched it in jealousy, for he knew that at last he would get to do the same.

Daedalus took the final moment before their escape to say a prayer. He prayed to Zeus, wishing for the king of the gods to grant them safe passing over his skies. They were not out of Zeus’ favor, the father and son, but not necessarily within it, either. And since the gods didn’t simply reply to favors like that so quickly, there was nothing more they could do in that moment than pray and hope he was in a good mood that day.

Then, that was it. There was nothing else. No more wings to finish, no more rules to reiterate, no more prayers to be said. They had done everything part of their plan but one. There was only one thing for them to do, and it was jump out that window and finally, finally, be free.

No words were exchanged between the two of them, only another small nod of acknowledgment, as Daedalus took the initiative to step up to the windowsill first. If the wings wouldn’t work, he told himself, he wanted to be the one to find out. Not Icarus.

Icarus watched, his impatience only growing, as his father carefully climbed into the small window. He had to be careful in how he fit himself in it, so that the wings would fit as well and not be squished in the cramped space. Icarus let himself take a few steps closer, too. Because the moment Daedalus took off, it was only a matter of seconds until he would have to follow.

The man did not look back to see Icarus’ reaction. He didn’t want the boy to realize the fear in his eyes. He didn’t want him to notice the shaking in his hands as he got so close to the edge, closer than he ever would, because normally that close would mean death. But this was not normal. They had wings, and they would fly.

“Go.”

That was the only warning Icarus had that his father had jumped. It took him longer than it should have for him to actually process what he’d just watched: his father jumping out of a window. Yes, there were wings, but for a few seconds, it simply appeared that he had fallen. He was now alone in the tower. There really was no turning back.

When he snapped back to the present, Icarus rushed over to the window and tried not to focus on how high up he was, how he couldn’t find Daedalus in the sky at first glance, how small everything was below. He forced himself to take a deep breath, climbed into the windowsill, and closed his eyes, holding his breath as he jumped.

Icarus was falling.

That was the first and only thing he could register. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t grant himself the horror of seeing how fast he was falling towards the ground. He knew the wings would work, Daedalus had warned him that it would take a few seconds before they actually began to glide. But those few seconds were terrifying.

Icarus could hear his heartbeat in his ears, almost drowned out by the wind rushing past him. He could also feel that wind, through his hair, through his entire body. He felt the disorientation of tumbling, his stomach turning, heart pounding, breath taken from the shock of the moment. Panic settled in- why wasn’t he flying? He was supposed to fly. The wings clung to him, feeling more like dead weight than anything else. They weren’t working, he thought. They weren’t working, they weren’t working, they weren’t-

As he fell, Icarus suddenly felt a change. A subtle resistance to the pull of gravity. The wind slowly stopped rushing past him, and as it slowed down he reminded himself to spread his arms out even more. His eyes were still squeezed shut, but he forced himself to open them once the falling had slowed.

Icarus was flying.

He was flying like the bird he’d been watching enviously for far too long. He could no longer feel the wind rushing past him, but as the breeze picked up, he felt he was part of the wind. With his eyes open now, Icarus allowed himself to look down with no fear. He was not scared anymore. He was thrilled.

The view below was even better from the sky itself than from the window. He could actually see the rest of the town to his right, which he hadn’t been able to see from the tower. There were homes, buildings, the little ants below he realized were people, and trees- olive trees. He smiled at that. Not only at that but the fact that he was flying. He was doing it, he was finally doing it! This was the most amazing moment of his life.

Directly below him was the sea. It was a beautiful combination of green and blue and even white with the foam from the waves. Above him was the sky, the clear sky. There were no clouds, only the bright, brilliant sun against the blue above.

But, of course, he could never get too close to either of them.

Icarus shifted his focus. He had to find his father and follow him, as he’d been instructed. He lifted his head from admiring the sights to looking about the sky around him, letting out a breathless sigh of relief when he saw Daedalus several feet ahead of him. The man was facing him, too, as if they’d been searching for each other.

It was a strange sight, seeing Daedalus flying. The wings on his back looked so gentle, and he knew how delicate they were. They were strong, however, clearly enough to carry the large man. They looked like they didn’t quite belong on Daedalus. In a way, they almost made him look like an angel.

Icarus chuckled to himself at that thought, though it was probably a bit more animated than usual since he was already experiencing so much joy. He wondered if he, too, looked like an angel.

The father and son were far apart, but the moment their eyes met there was an unspoken understanding. Even if they couldn’t quite make out the other’s expression, even if there was no way they’d be able to hear the other if they actually spoke, they could tell how the other felt. Daedalus let himself smile at the complete, genuine joy his son was exuding. Then, making sure that Icarus was still going the right direction with him, he turned away and focused himself on flying towards the nearest island that was not the one they’d just escaped from. He could see it in the distance, not much further. They’d just have to keep going on the straight path, and they’d be there soon enough.

Icarus knew that this was the goal, to get to another island and be free. Drink fresh water, eat an olive, whatever they wanted to do. And seeing the island, so close yet so far, was only making it more exciting.

For a long while, they simply flew. It only took Icarus a couple minutes to get the reins of the wings and figure them out. He quickly taught himself how to turn either direction, how to angle himself upwards or downwards. But he didn’t use that, of course, other than where he had to in order to direct himself in the right direction after Daedalus. He stayed close behind his father as they flew together, feeling the wind beneath his arms and breathing in the air, salty from the ocean below.

It was then, in experimenting with the mechanics and controls of the wings, that Icarus made his mistake.

He began carefully, still heeding the warnings that Daedalus had given him. Icarus let himself glide lower, closer and closer to the water’s surface. It was gradual and considerate, not to put himself in danger. He knew the risks of getting too close, he knew that he should just stay directly behind his father. But he could still see Daedalus from where he was, a little below him now, and Daedalus was not looking back anymore. So as long as he continued to be careful, he could test the limits of the wings without them breaking. Or so he thought.

Icarus slowly descended lower. It was almost that same feeling of free falling before, but this time much more controlled. There was not a single ounce of panic in him as he got closer to the water. The wind was rushing past him again, making it all the more exhilarating. Icarus was careful to spread the wings out as much as he could and use them the right way as to not lose control.

When he got close enough, he could feel the water on himself. He was just low enough so that he wasn’t touching the ocean, but he could see it right there, right in front of him. The greens, the blues, the whites, the shining reflection of the sun. He could feel the cool droplets of water against his bare arms, too caught up in the pure delight of the moment to realize that the wings were being wet by the water, too.

Icarus was laughing. He was smiling. He was happier in that moment than he had ever been in his whole life. After so long being imprisoned, he felt free. This moment, being by the water, was more freedom than he could have ever imagined. He didn’t want it to end; he wanted that moment to last forever. He wished he could be suspended in time, always feeling such liberation and elation.

Since that wish was impossible, he decided to take it a step further.

He was already taking a major risk by allowing himself to get so close to the sea. He’d been told exactly not to do that. Icarus respected his father, loved his father, and would never intentionally go against him. But the lure of it all was too big. The feeling he got from it all was indescribable. He felt invincible. So far, Zeus had accepted their prayer for mercy in his realm and was allowing them safe passage. Maybe, Icarus dared to hope, Zeus was allowing him this moment. Maybe he was letting him risk the dangers because he understood.

The king of Olympus was not an understanding god. But Icarus didn’t know that.

Icarus allowed himself another deep breath, breathing in the salt from the ocean, taking in the reality of the moment, before swooping back up to meet the same level as his father in the sky. Daedalus seemed not to have noticed that Icarus had done such an unsafe thing, and was continuing to fly.

Once he was back where he was supposed to have been all along, Icarus only flew straight ahead for a minute or so until he just couldn’t resist the temptation of something different this time- not the sea, but the sun.

Icarus looked up. If he had already gone too low without the wings being ruined, he could go a bit higher, right? Perhaps Daedalus had just been underestimating the strength of his wings. If he really had been blessed by Athena, surely they would be able to withstand a little heat from the sun. They’d survived the water, so he was certain that they’d survive the sun, too.

So he took that risk and flew up. By this point, he had so much control over the wings, had figured out the small details with such perfection in such little time, that he knew how to raise himself higher and higher, steadily moving himself up into the sky.

Daedalus still did not notice. He had made the mistake of trusting that his son would never be so reckless, would never be so ignorant to his own warnings. He did not look back and see that Icarus was no longer behind him. He did not know that Icarus was in fact getting so distracted and off-path that he could not even see Daedalus in the sky anymore. He did not realize that Icarus had been blinded in the most literal sense by his desires. If he had noticed, maybe he would have been able to do something to save him from himself.

Icarus, on the other hand, was relieved that his father did not realize. He knew that it would only anger him. So he could not say why he was doing it, why he was getting higher, why he was allowing himself the pleasure of attempting to reach the sun itself. It was not that he wanted to disobey his father. He did not want to go against his orders. He only wanted to have fun, and fun did he have.

He was carried away by the moment, not realizing what he was really doing. Icarus just kept getting higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun, farther and farther from Daedalus, who remained oblivious. Icarus’ laughing had restarted again, the smiling on his face growing impossibly wider. He thought he had felt good close to the water; this was even better. The bigger the clouds and sun looked above him, the smaller everything else looked below him. He was soon able to actually feel the heat of the sun on his skin, more than one did on the ground. He could feel it on his face, like that of the flame of a candle. Warm and inviting, friendly, egging him on to get closer, convincing him that no harm could be done. He was having too much fun, being too foolish that he actually believed it.

It stayed that way, all fun and entertaining. The pull of the sun was so incicing. The thrill of the flying itself was too great. The feeling of it all was the best thing he had ever experienced, the best high--to the most exact meaning--that he knew could ever be achieved. Icarus was, in that moment, the closest any mortal had ever been to the sun, the highest anyone had ever been in the sky.

Icarus was the closest any mortal had been to the gods.

And he felt like a god. He felt invincible, infallible, strong, powerful, he felt unstoppable. He felt like he had become that bird that he had admired. He felt like he could fly anywhere, do anything, touch the sky. That was exactly what his mind was set on doing.

Things didn’t change when Icarus began to smell something off. It wasn’t the smell of the ocean- no, that was long gone. He’d gone far too high for that. It was a smell that was accompanied by the sensation of something hot against his skin. Something other than the heat of the sun itself. He was so intoxicated by the pure feeling of euphoria that it took him longer than it should have for him to realize that the feeling of heat and the scent that he couldn’t put his finger on was actually coming from the wings.

The sun was melting the wax, just as Daedalus had warned.

Icarus didn’t stop when he felt this. He was still consumed by that sense of power and god-likeness. He didn’t want to stop, regardless of the wings melting.

Perhaps he realized that it was too late for him by then. Perhaps he realized that he was too far from the island to make it, he was flying over the middle of the ocean, not close enough to any to manage to glide himself to safety. Perhaps he realized that once the wings had begun to melt, there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps he realized that he was going to die.

So there Icarus was, flying like a bird for the first and last time. He didn’t let himself come to terms with the fact that he was not going to get that one olive, the fact that he was not going to have any of the hopeful future that had been promised to him. He did not want to be overwhelmed by the reality that he was not going to get to apologize to Daedalus for disobeying. He only wanted to continue feeling the hot sun, not the hot wax. To feel that freedom one last time.

In what he realized to be his final moments, he let himself close his eyes. He once again did not want to see how quick he may have been falling to the ground once the wax completely melted from the wings.

Icarus imagined himself to be the stick of a candle, the wings to be the wick, and the sun to be the flame. For a small time, the wick would burn. The candle would be alight, shining brilliantly, lighting up the space for as long as the wick could last. Until inevitably, the wick reached its end, the candle burning out. Until the wick finally died, reaching the stick of the candle and engulfing that, too, in flames.

His laughter was the only sound echoing through the skies as he fell, the only thing alerting Daedalus that his son had flown too close to the sun and paid the price.

***

His mind was still swimming. He could barely remember what happened, and didn't know where he was. He sat up but kept his eyes closed. But wait, he thought, that was wrong. He shouldn’t have been able to sit up. He was supposed to be dead. He shouldn’t even have a body anymore, he shouldn’t be anywhere other than the Underworld. But light was seeping through his closed eyelids, and he knew with absolute certainty that he was not in the dark depths of the Underworld.

But then again, he’d also been certain that the wings would not melt under the sun.

Icarus reached a hand up to his forehead to try to stop it from pounding, almost losing his balance in the process. He took a deep breath, surprised that he had the capability to breathe. This was all wrong; he had died. He remembered the wings breaking entirely and sending him crashing into the ocean below. He remembered death; he remembered the moments before it, too, when he’d accepted his fate. Where was he now, and why did he feel alive again? “Icarus.” The voice that spoke his name was one of power. It was deep, serious, demanding respect. It made his name no longer just a name, but a command. He forced himself to look up and open his eyes, squinting them at the figure before him.

It was a man, a man who somehow carried youthful features yet an expression weighed down by years upon years. A man who was completely ageless, both extremely old and extremely young. The man had blonde hair and wore a perfectly white toga that managed to still look bright white against his pale skin. He was muscular and had a strong jawline. Everything about the man was… perfect. It took Icarus a few moments to realize that the man was watching him emotionlessly with glowing golden eyes. Then he realized that all of him was glowing, he was shining like the sun.

Icarus realized that the man before him was no man at all. He was a god.

When the realization set in, Icarus forced himself to stand up, ignoring the dizziness. Maybe it was a bad decision of him to try to stand up in front of someone so powerful, he should probably have kneeled, but being sprawled across the ground half sat up was probably not very respectful, either. When Icarus stood, he let himself look around and noticed that their surroundings were essentially all white. They must have been in the sky somewhere, in the clouds.

Icarus was so overwhelmed by the situation, not comprehending it all. He didn’t really think when he pointed his finger at the god--something he immediately regretted--and blurted the obvious:

“You’re Apollo.”

Then he quickly realized his error and tried to correct it with a sloppy bow. No one had ever taught the young Icarus how to act in front of a god. Thankfully, Apollo was not upset or insulted by the boy’s actions, though his expression remained blank. Icarus could not tell what he was thinking, and for some reason it made him anxious.

Apollo only nodded. “Indeed I am.” He watched as Icarus straightened up from his bow. Icarus felt like he was being scrutinized under the god’s divine eyes, and didn’t know whether to meet them or to look away. He was completely unprepared for this moment. “Take off those wings.”

Icarus hadn’t realized that the wings were still attached to him. They’d somehow stayed to his form into the afterlife- or at least he assumed this was the afterlife. He had no idea what was happening. Though now, the wings were mutilated. The wax had melted not entirely, but enough so they could not fly any longer. An entire part of the back was waxless, and everywhere else was either half-melted or had feathers missing. The sad remnants were clinging desperately to the now weakened frame. He obeyed Apollo’s order immediately and began fumbling to slide the leather straps off of him.

The wings fell soundlessly to the floor, which Icarus still didn’t know what that floor was. He then looked back up at Apollo, who still only stared at him. Icarus stood there uncomfortably for a few seconds, and then took the silent stare as his cue to step away. Once he did, Apollo stepped forward, leaned down, and picked up the wings, examining them with a certain detached interest.

“Fine craftsmanship,” the god noted, looking at the slightly-terrified Icarus again. “I assume your father made them?” The boy nodded quickly.

“Yes, he did. And I helped. Well, not with this pair but with his.” He then decided he should have left the answer at yes and not given unnecessary explanation.

He really was a mess.

Apollo nodded. He seemed to still not have been offended by Icarus’ unrehearsed nature. He simply spoke to him as if he were any other man, rather than a child who was both in awe and fear of the powerful being before him. Apollo turned his attention back to the wings, plucking a single feather off of them before dropping them back to the ground. Icarus cringed as he dropped them so carelessly but was afraid to say anything about it.

“Do you know why you are here, Icarus?” The speaking of his name once again made him nervous, as Icarus felt so minor and insignificant in the presence of a god. His name didn’t deserve to be said by Apollo’s mouth; he didn’t deserve to be speaking with him.

Icarus hesitated before answering. “Because… I died. But, forgive me if I am wrong, but this is not the Underworld.” Apollo waved his hand dismissively.

“No, no, of course not. I would never go down there. It’s quite the opposite of my realm.”

His realm. It took Icarus a few moments to think about that. Apollo was the god of many things, he knew that. Medicine, prophecy, music, archery, the sun-

Oh.

Icarus suddenly knew why he was there. His heart dropped to his stomach. He had been trying to do the impossible, to touch the sun. Daedalus had only been considering the god of the sky when deciding to pray for safe passage while flying. They hadn’t thought about the other gods who ruled the above, too. Had he upset Apollo with his recklessness?

“No, Icarus, you are not in the Underworld,” Apollo continued. “I stopped you on your path to Hades; I wanted to speak with you. Mortals die every minute, you see, but it’s not everyday I find one like you.”

Icarus swallowed hard. The way Apollo spoke, he still couldn’t tell what he was thinking about this whole situation. He couldn’t tell if he really had offended him or not, and it was nerve-wracking.

“I- I apologize if I insulted you, Lord Apollo,” he began carefully, the title sounding too formal for his young mouth. “I had no intention to.” Apollo shook his head.

“Do not apologize. To me, at least. I am not insulted. If anything I am flattered, really. Most mortals fear the sun; they fear me. You, however, seem to have no such opinion. It was quite entertaining to watch, I will admit. Such courage you have for such a young boy. I must ask, Icarus, why do you not fear me?”

Icarus was taken aback by that statement. He had flattered the god? By being an idiot. It didn’t make any sense. Apollo should have been offended, he should have wanted to torture or hurt Icarus in his afterlife after he attempted to go beyond the mortal realm. But… he didn’t. Icarus didn’t know how to react.

And the mention of his father, the reminder that he had gone directly against what Daedalus had instructed, hit Icarus like a punch to the gut. A reminder that he had disobeyed and gotten himself killed for it. He didn’t want to think about Daedalus just then; he wanted to figure out why and how he’d managed to flatter the god of the sun. Icarus took a deep breath.

“I do fear you,” he admitted plainly. He didn’t know what more to say.

Apollo was responding so casually that it made Icarus uncomfortable. He chuckled at his response, which didn’t make him feel any better- though Icarus had to admit that the sound of godly laughter was beautiful. “As you should, I suppose. But if you fear me, and I assume you must also fear death, why would you make such a rash decision and attempt to reach my sun?”

Icarus still was struggling to find the right words. He didn’t know how to explain his curiosity, it really had been an indescribable experience. The joy he’d felt in that moment was too much to ignore, he’d simply wanted to continue to go higher and higher. The skies had felt so limitless, the sun had felt so close. The consequences were unimportant as he flew, but now he was faced directly with them.

“Because I wished to feel free.” That was the only explanation that Icarus could manage. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

“Free? You would have had more freedom if you hadn’t died, would you not? You gave up the rest of your life for a small taste of freedom?”

Icarus only nodded. He was still at a loss for words, still trying to comprehend the entire interaction with someone so powerful. Apollo sighed, looking down at the small feather in his hand that he had taken from the wings.

“Mortals are interesting creatures,” he explained. “They are born, live for so little, then die. But they find so much more to their lives. They’re born nobody, yet believe that they can become something great. It’s almost saddening to watch this endless cycle of life and death. To see the excitement in their eyes as they embark on a journey that will inevitably lead to their end. I don’t understand how you do it, how you keep yourselves so optimistic when you know that in half a century, more or less, you will be nothing more than a memory to the rest of the world.

“Mortals value their lives, no matter how insignificant. So that is why you interest me. You want to live long, you want to be important, yet you let yourself come to an early end for the sake of something as small and temporary as a fleeting feeling.”

The god took a deep breath, running a finger down the soft feather, and looked back up at Icarus. The boy was only watching him, listening to an immortal’s perspective of mortality. If Icarus hadn’t been able to find the right words before, he was completely lost then.

Icarus met Apollo’s gaze. The immortal was looking at him with something in his golden eyes that was noticeable now: a look of sympathy. Compassion. Perhaps even pity.

He didn’t think a god to be capable of such human emotions.

“I mean… I just…” Icarus tried to provide the god some explanation to his unexplainable actions. Apollo was watching him with interest as he spoke, the emotion in his expression barely there yet still noticeable. Icarus spoke slowly, his mind still turning as he explained. “I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t thinking. I had been trapped for so long… I got carried away by it all. I- I felt free, like I wanted, and I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to make that feeling last forever.”

Apollo studied the boy before him. He took note of his imperfections, his mortality. Even in death, Icarus’ hair had been ruffled from flight. His arms were red, presumably as a result of the wax melting off the wings and onto his skin. His clothes were tattered. The look on his face was one of fear and vulnerability. Apollo was used to mortals looking at him with that sense of terror, but this was somehow different. Something about Icarus’ youth and innocence. Apollo still didn’t understand how humans worked, how they managed to make such careless decisions, how they grappled with their inescapable death. But watching this young man try to explain himself, he thought that maybe once he could at least understand.

“You are a fascinating mortal, Icarus. That is a compliment coming from me.”

Icarus swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

This entire conversation was unnerving, but he sensed a slight change in the god’s demeanor, perhaps a tinge of compassion. And he’d just been complimented by Apollo himself. He never thought that flying too close to the sun and doing exactly the opposite of what his father told him to do would lead to a compliment from one of the most powerful beings in the universe. But of the many things he was still unsure of in that moment, there was one question that came to mind:

“What will happen to me now?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“Well,” Apollo began. “You will go to the Underworld and be judged, as all mortals are. That will determine where you spend the rest of eternity. You are not receiving any special treatment in your afterlife; I simply wanted to speak with you. And spoken with you I have.” Icarus was silent for a few moments, but then nodded slowly. But before he could give a verbal response, Apollo spoke. “Your father will mourn you greatly.”

Icarus was once again taken aback by that. He couldn’t quite tell if that was simply the god stating the obvious, or if it was some sort of order or curse, and he was too afraid to ask. “Yes, I am aware.” But Apollo’s next words surprised him yet again.

“Do you wish for him to?”

Icarus froze. He didn’t want Daedalus to be saddened by his death, but of course he would be. His son had died, after all. It only made sense for him to mourn the loss of his own blood, the boy he had so carefully raised and loved. The child who’d become his closest partner in life. He didn’t want his father to be in grief.

“I wish for my father to be happy.”

Apollo nodded thoughtfully. “Happiness. That is what you felt when you fell, correct? Daedalus will know that. He will know that you were happy.”

Icarus’ eyes lit up. “You can do that?” He didn’t know if he would end up happy in the afterlife, or if he would receive punishment for being reckless. But at least in that moment, that small moment with Apollo, he was happy again. And Icarus knew that if Daedalus knew that, it would make him happy, too. Happiness was something neither of them had felt in so long. It was another feeling that had made the flight so intoxicating for Icarus.

“Yes,” Apollo said. “I can do many things.”

Then, before Icarus could express his gratitude, before he could say or do anything more, the entire moment shattered. Apollo disappeared, everything around them was gone.

His conversation with the god was done. He was no longer in the in-between of life and death. Icarus was dead and would have to face the consequences of his actions. He would have to be judged, his eternal fate decided once and for all.

But he would do all this with the knowledge that his father would know how he felt in those final moments. He would go to the Underworld knowing that he was happy then and now. He would enter the beginning of his afterlife knowing that eventually, Daedalus would get over the loss of his son.

Icarus didn’t know what Apollo gained from that conversation. He didn’t understand why the god had taken such interest in him. But he did know one thing for certain:

He had died, yes, but he had felt freedom. He had found that feeling of happiness that had been missing for so long. Perhaps he had a small sense of remorse for his actions. If he hadn’t died, he would have been free with Daedalus, and they could have lived long lives together out of the tower that had confined them for so long. But in the end, he accepted his fate. He really was happy.

Because even if it killed him, he had touched the sun.

#divider by steddiecameraroll-graphics #greek mythology #ancient greece #greek myth #greek myth aesthetic #the fall of icarus #lament for icarus #icarus #writing #idk what else to tag this as #i'll reblog to my main so its fine #original writing

19 notes · View notes

hxhhasmysoul · 8 months ago

Text

wouldn't it be nice if the author of the fics finished them. the author is me.

#vent #for the last 4 months my life has been in stupid crisis mode #like constantly #from major ones where i had to move out for a while because it was impossible to stay where i lived #to not being able to use my kitchen for over a week #and like other more or less minor house related stuff that made it impossible for me to use something normally #not a single week without something like that or shit at work which is constantly being so fucking chaotic #and now someone died in my family #not someone very close but i liked them #and of course like feeling sad that they are gone can't be the only thing #because it has to come with the headache of i need to travel for their funeral and it's just before easter #so there's no one in this city to leave my dog with #because most of my friends either live abroad or have cats or are busy before easter..#i'd just want a week where nothing happens #and like the writing is weighing heavy on me #because i miss it #also i wish i could finish something #i wish something good would happen that i could feel proud off #also because i'm mentally ill and fucking stupid when i was going crazy with my kitchen not working and work shit #i bought new furniture #because after 15 years i've finally had enough money to buy some that aren't fucking black and inconvenient and ugly #which is like a huge project and a crisis i brought onto myself #just because i was too burnt out to write #and i wanted something nice to happen to me #like a nice living space that doesn't make feel like i have no ownership over it because everything in it was some else's choice #and that old furniture was bought by my mother and my brother ages ago and it's handmedowns #and my fucking horrible mother feels personally slighted that i want to get rid of a bed that is broken #because my brother's kids jumped on it regularly when they used to visit pre covid #yeah it's been broken that long because i lost all my savings during covid and had to change careers to a souless pointless corpo job #long pathetic whine and overshare over

16 notes · View notes

magentagalaxies · 9 days ago

Text

(btw if anyone who's been keeping up with my aubrey stuff wants the uncle reg backstory lore feel free to dm me lmao)

#i haven't had a lot of performance opportunities while i've been at school but i HAVE been doing a lot of aubrey writing #especially these past few weeks. and i've come up with and/or solidified so many random pieces of lore #which tbh makes writing and performing easier bc like aubrey is a full character i can improvise as now #i have so many lines constantly in the back of my head that i can relate to a topic and aubrey has so many specific details of zir history #ze feels very ''real'' in a way ze didn't even a few months ago which i know is gonna make performing so much better #also the open mic where i did my unplanned standup set and had a straight woman make out with me is happening while i'm in toronto next wee #i'm not planning on performing (tho that's what i said last time lmao) but i do wanna watch again #so i can continue establishing that as my spot for once i move up there full time #who knows maybe i'll be able to convince scott to go to the mic with me. tho probably not since it's the night before the kith show #(wouldn't it be hilarious if scott said no but mark was like ''count me in'' like thanks kid in the hall i just met)#but if i keep going enough times i'm sure we'll get another buddy/aubrey open mic set eventually lmao

3 notes · View notes

arcane-vagabond · 1 year ago

Text

#y'all my anxiety has me spiraling as of late because it just feels like my whole life is falling apart at this point #i got fired from my job a couple of months ago and i've been scrambling to try and find a new one #i work part time at a store i really love but it pays shit #and i've had all of these interviews and no one wants to hire me and i just feel unhireable at this point and it's hard not to despair #and on top of that i'm struggling with my self esteem again #i know i'm not ugly per se but i'm struggling with feeling confident in the way i look as a big girl #and all of my old insecurities are rearing their ugly heads and i want to cry just thinking about it #and i feel like such a failure right now even though i know that life has its ups and downs but my stupid brain just won't chill #and i don't really have any friends in the area because they all either moved away or didn't live here to begin with #and i'm tired of living at home because of my stupid student loans and not being able to afford to live on my own #i have one person i hang out with and we just met and i don't want to scare them off because they're a great friend and person #and i just feel like i'm never going to meet anybody who's going to love me the way i want to be loved because of my looks #also because it's me. and i feel like i'm so flawed as a person that no one will ever fall in love with me #and i've just been feeling really alone lately and i'm trying to do things to make me feel better but it's just so HARD right now #and i love writing because it gives me a chance to explore some of my feelings and it's something i genuinely love to do #and i'm sitting here waiting for the day things start to get better. and i know we all joke and i'm gonna sounds so dumb for saying this #but i feel like i was meant to be famous? or do something great idk and it's something everyone has always told me #and idk if my feelings of inadequacy are because of that or what but i'm scared that my life is going to mean nothing in the end #anyway this was a lot and you can pretend like you didn't read it. i just wanted to write some of my feelings down

11 notes · View notes

imwritesometimes · 1 year ago

Text

I am once again completely losing any interest or motivation to actually write anything 🙃🙃🙃

#it just poof! disappears! vanishes! gone! it has left the building!#I absolutely positively HAVE to write linearly I cannot go oh well I have the ideas for much later chapters so I'll start there #my brain does NOT work like that and quite frankly I hate the advice that's always like oh write the fun bits first then!#cause it's like bitch I KNOW myself I KNOW my brain I'd never finish ANYTHING #I am the ULTIMATE 'well this isn't fun anymore I'm dipping' bitch. QUEEN of hitting the bricks #and also my brain just. will not function in that way. things gotta be done in ORDER or it DOES. NOT. WORK. AT. ALL. EVEN. A LITTLE.#but I find myself getting very VERY self-conscious and outright repelled by own set-up and structuring if that makes any sense?#it's like I gotta BUILD to *the* part but when I work on the foundation and framework I'm like 🫤😟🥴#it's like oh this just sounds like boring drab info dumping bullshit #and the thing is. I know it's not! I'm not a *bad* writer. I know anyone else reading it doesn't see it as #hollow paint by numbers blah blah blah bland af shit #but to ME it feels that way #and I just lose the desire to work on anything anymore #this has been going on for MONTHS now. MONTHS. I've not been able to write ANYTHING. for MONTHS. cause of this.#this stupid weird trepidation that all my setup work is just horrid awful runny dog shit #idk where it csme from. idk why it's stuck around so long. idk how to fix it. don't think it CAN be fixed at this point.#I just don't know what I'm doing man. I used to LOVE writing fic. now I'm like lol maybe DON'T do that.#erin explains it all

1 note · View note

hypnagogics · 1 month ago

Note

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought.

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

if you'd like to be tagged in my fics, click here! thank you for reading. asks, reblogs, and comments are appreciated more than you know. ♡

tags: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @mascdom @xysbree @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @elliesapple

1K notes · View notes

nicksolemnlyswears · 10 months ago

Text

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

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader

5K notes · View notes

likeumeanit9497 · 3 months ago

Text

you jealous? | c.s. & m.s. |

chris sturniolo x reader x matt sturniolo

summary: y/n's secret fwb, chris, teaches her a lesson on sharing.

warnings: SMUTTTT; unprotected p in v; fingering; handjob; oral (f receiving); dirty talk; lowk toxic chris (srry); 2 boys 1 night ;); 18+

notes: hiiii guys!! sooooo i know i have been painfully inactive AGAIN over the past few weeks BUT I CAN EXPLAIN!!! so yes i got back from my trip at the start of aug, but i made a super stupid last minute decision to go back to college this fall, so i had to do all my applications, find a new place to live in a new city, AND move out of my old place all since i've been back. sooo i've been a bit busy hence why i haven't been able to write or post anything since the start of the month. BUT to make it up to u all i decided to write a fic for both the matt and chris girlies teehee. side note this is probably the closest i will ever get to a chris x matt x reader threesome okay i can't handle much more than this before it starts feeling weird af, BUT i hope u guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it (can u tell the duo streams are making it hard for me to pick one straight triplet to thirst over for the week?? hope someone relates) love u all and can't wait to write some more nasty shit <333

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

As I walked through the front door at the party, I really didn’t know what to expect. Sure, the flashing lights, loud rap music, and the sinus-burning waft of alcohol that flooded my senses as soon as I opened the door were a given, but there was so much uncertainty in my life that the night was feeling almost surreal.

“There she is!” I heard Nick’s bellowing voice through the sea of people as I walked up the front steps and entered the living room. Nick was my best friend, and had been since him and his brothers moved to Los Angeles, and he had decided to throw a ‘small’ party for me when I told him that I got a promotion at my job. Nervous to have so much attention on me at once, I smiled sheepishly as he ran over to me with a bottle of tequila in his hand.

After squeezing me so hard that I thought my ribs might break, he waved the half-empty bottle in my face. “You look sober. You can’t be sober at your own party! Let’s go take some shots.” By his rushed speech and disheveled appearance, I could tell that he had been drinking for a while prior to my arrival. And he was right, I was sober, and with the number of eyes on me and unrecognizable people circling me, I knew I had to gain some liquid courage quick.

“I thought you said this was just going to be a small get together Nick, what happened?” I asked quietly as we reached the kitchen. He grabbed us two shot glasses from the stack sitting on the counter, and rushed to the fridge to grab me a High Noon before pouring the tequila. “It’s LA, Y/n, this is a small get together. And besides,” He handed me an overflowing shot glass, “Everyone loves you. Now hurry up and cheers me.” Rolling my eyes, I obliged; lifting my glass in the air and clinking it gently against his before bringing it to my lips and tilting my head back.

The first shot is always the worst, and this one was no exception. I felt the burn as it traveled down my throat and into my stomach, and I winced before finally giving in and chasing with the High Noon that Nick had grabbed for me. “Wooo!” Shouted Nick before pouring more tequila into our glasses. “Hold on, what are you doing?” I tried to protest by covering the top of my shot glass with my hand. Without hesitation, Nick swatted my hand away. “You need another silly. Everyone here has been drinking for hours.” Grumbling under my breath, I let him pour another one, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the person I was most anxious to see would make an appearance.

As if he had sensed my nerves, it was just then, as I was bringing my second shot to my lips, that I saw him walking up the stairs leading to his bedroom. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hurriedly took my shot before chugging half of my drink at once in an attempt to calm my mind. I still had my drink at my lips when he noticed me; his droopy blue eyes scanning the room before they landed on mine. He smirked, soft pink lips curled up in a taunting manner, before waltzing over to where Nick and I were standing.

“Hey there.” He chirped, leaning against the counter just inches away from me. “Hey Chris.” I replied, keeping my tone as nonchalant as possible as I felt his gaze burn into me. “When did you get in?” He asked as I continued to avoid eye contact. I took a sip of my drink. “Just a few minutes ago.” There was a silence between the three of us; the awkwardness so intense that I felt like I could explode. “Okayyyy, I’m gonna go say hi to a few people.” Nick stated before quickly rushing off to the living room, leaving me alone with Chris.

“So,” Began Chris, “Long time no see.” I felt him take a step closer to me before running his hand lightly across the small of my back. Reacting to his touch, I inhaled a sharp breath and my eyes shot to his. “Very funny.” I responded, my voice a low whisper as if anyone could hear our conversation above the loud music and steady chatter in the room. He chuckled, still rubbing my back discreetly. “I thought so.”

It had actually been less than 24 hours since I had seen Chris. Just the night before, my wrists had been tied to his headboard while my legs were wrapped around his waist. A few weeks ago, after a night at the bar with Nick, Chris and I had had rushed, sloppy sex on their living room couch when Matt and Nick were asleep. Since then, him and I had fucked at least a dozen more times without telling a soul. I couldn’t bear the thought of my best friend finding out that I was sleeping with his brother, and Chris couldn’t stand the thought of anyone knowing anything about his personal life. Plus, there was something so sexy about our little secret; and I worried that if anyone found out about what we had been doing, the adrenaline that flooded my veins every time he looked at me with that knowing gaze, or touched me covertly, would disappear.

Over the past few weeks, there had been moments when our secret was almost revealed. Like the one time, when I was changing in Nick’s room, when he saw the dark blue hickeys all across my chest and stomach. Or another time, when I rolled up my sleeves to wash my hands in the kitchen and Matt asked me about the marks on my wrists. Both times, I froze; but both times I was able to come up with little white lies on the spot. I had made up a fictional man — one that lived in another city and they certainly didn’t know — that I had been seeing, and after sharing perhaps too many explicit details, they had both believed me.

Other than that, there had been no other times where people seemed to have any inclination of what Chris and I had been doing — most likely because we hadn’t been around others since we started hooking up. Tonight was the first time that we were going to be drinking with a big group of people, hence why I had been so anxious about how the night might go.

“You wanna go downstairs?” Chris’ voice in my ear pulled me from my thoughts, and I felt that familiar jump in my stomach from the thought of being alone with him right now. However, I was still sober enough to remember that we had to be careful, so I took a moment and glanced around the room. Everyone seemed pretty drunk, but the night was still young, and it was too risky yet. So, I shook my head softly. “We can’t yet, let’s wait for it to get later.” I was whispering just like he had been, and I felt his hand move from my lower back down to my ass, where he cupped it and gave it a generous squeeze. “Got it.” He replied, before snaking off and leaving me alone in our corner of the kitchen. Sighing, I reached for the bottle of tequila that Nick left behind; pouring myself yet another shot. Tonight was gonna be a long night.

𓆩♡𓆪

After a few more shots and a couple High Noons, I was drunk. Unfortunately, it had done nothing to ease my nerves, because I had spent the past hour or so watching Chris get progressively closer to another girl. As I leaned against the kitchen table attempting to keep up a conversation with Matt, I watched as he went from innocently chatting with her, to draping his arm across the back of the couch where she was sitting, to him now; pulling her onto his lap as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

I tried to act as unbothered as possible, but it wasn’t easy. It’s not like I had any romantic feelings for Chris — him and I had both made it abundantly clear that it was just sex — but I couldn’t help but see red as I watched her run her hands through his messy curls as she rolled her hips on his lap. It was just that the sex that him and I were having was so good, I selfishly didn’t want anyone else to get it from him.

Groaning under my breath, I made an excuse and snuck away from Matt before walking to the fridge to grab one more drink. As I was rummaging through the fridge’s contents, I felt a warm hand brush against my bare leg. “You ready to sneak away now?” His words were hushed just like before, but I couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh. “You can’t be serious.” I replied before closing the fridge and cracking open my drink. Now facing him, I noticed he had a confused expression across his face.

“What happened? Did that girl on the couch give you blue balls?” Even as I spoke, I recognized how stupid and bitter I sounded. A slight twinkle formed in Chris’ eyes, causing me to grow even more angry. “What are you talking about Y/n?” He asked, a small smile crossing his lips. I rolled my eyes, growing increasingly more angry. “The girl who’s tongue was just down your throat. What happened to her?” I asked, noticing how drunk I was sounding. Chris stared at me for a moment, before tilting his head slightly to the side. “You jealous?” He asked, and in that moment I wanted to smack him.

“Of course not,” I said, walking in the direction of Matt’s washroom in an attempt to escape this increasingly uncomfortable conversation, “But you’re crazy if you think you’re gonna come to me only when plan A fails.” Trying the door, I realized that the washroom was locked and I groaned. Chris had followed me down the hall, and now he had me cornered. Just as I was about to turn around and get past him back to the kitchen, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into Matt’s room.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed in a harsh whisper as my sense of sight was almost completely removed by the pitch-black darkness of the room. I heard the door slam shut behind me, but when I turned around, I could just barely see the outline of Chris’ frame standing just inches from me. Just then, I heard a low chuckle come from his direction. “I can’t believe my Y/n is jealous.” He said, taking a few more steps in my direction before grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him.

“You know that you’re my favourite girl baby,” He started, bringing a hand to my throat and squeezing gently. My head was tilted up, and in the poor lighting the only thing I could make out were his bright blue eyes reflecting my own nervous expression. “But you’ve gotta learn how to share.” Before I could even roll my eyes at his statement, I felt his warm thumb press against my lower lip; urging it open. With hitched breaths, I obliged; parting my lips and opening my mouth slightly.

With his hold on my neck, he tilted my head back even further and I felt, more than saw, his lips just centimetres from mine. Then, without warning, he spit a pool of his saliva into my mouth with expert precision, and at that moment all of my walls caved in. “Now be a good girl for me and get on Matt’s bed.”

With red hot arousal already coursing through me, I didn’t hesitate before rushing over to the unmade bed in the centre of the room. The sound of my racing heart in my ears and the rush of excitement that I was feeling was enough of a distraction from the fact that I was draping my body along a bed that didn’t belong to either Chris or I. The fact that almost anyone could walk in at any moment, and the view that I had once I faced Chris, was enough to cause my head to spin.

There, just in front of me, was a now-shirtless Chris. From my position on the bed, he was looming over me; and the smirk plastered to his face was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. My needy eyes trailed slowly down his body, first his chest; down to his stomach; then his waistband — wait, what’s that shiny thing in his hand?

As if he heard my thoughts, Chris dangled the object teasingly, allowing me to realize what it was — the silver handcuffs from his room. “Were you just carrying those around all night?” I asked, locking my eyes back on his. He shrugged. “Didn’t know when I was finally gonna be able to use them.” I rolled my eyes, but as I opened my mouth to deliver a snarky reply, I was abruptly cut off by his lips on mine.

Hungry, drunk lips moulded to mine — they tasted like him. All of my annoyance with him dissolved within an instant as he wasted no time in peeling my clothing from my body; only breaking the kiss for a moment as he pulled my shirt over my head in the space between us. Immediately, his hands flew to my lower half where he simply lifted my skirt to give himself access to his favourite part of my body.

He squeezed my ass so hard that it hurt in that deliciously erotic way. Pulling me onto his lap, I felt his growing member press against my aching core as he continued to massage my ass like it was a life source that he had been deprived of for years. Low moans passed through his lips as he indulged, and I felt my body begin to tremble in painful anticipation. “Chris.” I whined before subtly grinding my core against the part of him that I needed most in that moment. I felt his lips turn up into a smile. “What’s wrong Y/n?” His voice was playful but rough from arousal, “I could’ve fucked you hours ago, remember? Then you wouldn’t be so painfully worked up.” I groaned again, not caring how desperate I felt as I dragged my soaked core up and down his clothed shaft for the second time.

Chris used his harsh grip on my ass to lift me off of him, causing me to release a frustrated sigh from the lack of contact. That quickly changed once he slid my panties to the side and used his fingers to gingerly graze my aching centre. I released a soft hiss as his fingers reached my swollen clit; hoping more than anything that he would spend extra time there. He chuckled at my noises, but any care I might have had over that dissipated as his fingers drew rapid circles on my bundle of nerves.

Tucking my head into the crook of his neck, I had to bite hard on his shoulder to keep myself from screaming out profanities from the immediate pleasure that I felt circulating in my body just from his touch. “You know, Y/n,” Chris began, his words coming out choppy from his quick movements, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were turned on watching me with that other girl.” I stayed silent, feeling tears well up in my eyes in the same way that my orgasm was welling up in my lower stomach. With all the strength I had, I managed to shake my head weakly in response to Chris’ words; causing him to chuckle.

“You might not think so, in your mind, but your pussy is telling me something different.” Just then, two of his long fingers slipped effortlessly inside of me. Unable to hold back now, I released a sharp scream into his bruised shoulder. His fingers began moving in and out of me slowly, curling right up to my g-spot each time. “Oh yeah,” His fingers began picking up speed; filling the room with the sounds of my arousal, “You hear that? You’re pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, it’s giving away your deep dark secrets.”

Moans now fell from my lips carelessly as his actions and words brought me closer and closer to an earth shattering orgasm. Maybe he was right, maybe there was a part of me that loved the thought of him being with another girl. Maybe I liked the idea of watching from the sidelines as he touched, kissed, or even fucked other girls.

Or maybe I just loved the idea that, no matter how many other girls he’s with, he will never find a better fuck than me.

That was the last thought I had before my mind was overtaken by the tidal wave of my orgasm. Arching my back in pleasure, I moaned out profanities as Chris’ fingers worked my pulsing core. I felt my legs shake as the relentless euphoria tore through my body, until Chris quickly removed his fingers from my core, lifted me up off of his lap, and bent me over the side of the bed all in one motion.

The cool air against my soaked and exposed core caused me to gasp, but still I waited exactly where he placed me with trembling limbs as I anticipated his next move. The sharp sound of a zipper filled the dark room, and after a moment I felt the heat from Chris’ member press against my wetness. Immediately and without thinking, I began rolling my hips in a weak attempt at relieving the unyielding want deep inside of me, but a firm hand on my hip promptly stopped all movements. “Wait one minute, Y/n.” Chris said, and I heard the sound of metal clanking together before the ice cold handcuffs were placed around my wrists.

I felt my stomach do a flip just like it always did when Chris tied me up in any way that he could, and once he was content with their placement, he gripped both of my wrists in one of his hands as he used his other to line his shaft up with my opening. I felt his tip slide up and down my slick folds a handful of times, causing an anticipatory shiver to crawl up my spine, before the indescribable satisfaction of feeling his length stretch my walls caused me to sigh in relief. That satisfaction was quickly replaced by gritty need as Chris began slamming his cock deep into me at a relentless pace. His hand tightened around my wrist as he gained momentum, causing the harsh metal of the handcuffs to dig into my skin; increasing the pleasure that I was feeling.

The room was filled with the sounds of my ass slapping against his front, and I knew even without him saying anything that the view he had was driving him crazy. Just as expected, his hand dropped a sharp smack to my left ass cheek before gripping onto it ruthlessly. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me baby.” Chris’ voice was already deep and guttural, and I could tell that he wasn’t gonna last very long. Moaning in response, I bit onto the comforter beneath me to muffle the sound as I relished in the feeling of his cock hitting just the right spot on each harsh thrust.

“This is what you needed, huh? I knew by your attitude you were dyin’ for it.” His filthy talk was enough to send me another strong wave of vertigo, and I felt my restrained hands desperately try to grab onto him in any way so that I could stabilize myself. “You know this cock is yours,” Chris continued, both his movements and his voice now growing choppier, “But just because something is yours doesn’t mean you can’t share.” I felt my body begin to tense up, goosebumps raised on my skin as I felt my pleasure begin to boil over.

“Fuck, gonna cum baby.” Chris’ words were rushed, and as he spoke them he quickly pulled his swollen length out of my wincing core. After a few pumps in his hand, I felt his warm fluid shoot onto my back and collect in a small pool. As he came down from his high, I heard small grunts leave his mouth and I wanted nothing more than to use my own restrained hands to milk him dry. After a few moments of silence, both of us simply catching our breaths, Chris spoke. “Sorry, Y/n, I didn’t expect to cum so fast.” He massaged my ass with his hands as he spoke.

“It’s okay.” I replied, though the screaming need in between my legs was saying otherwise. “Get up on the bed and arch that back, I’ll get you there.” His words caused my body to quiver once again. Just as I was about to do as he told me, the shocking sound of a door opening caused me to freeze in place like a deer in headlights.

“Chris who the fuck are you talking to in my ro-”

The familiar voice filled the room and deafening silence immediately followed. Chris’ hands were still on my waist, and I felt my skin grow hot in embarrassment. In the heat of everything that had happened over the past little while, I had forgotten who’s room we were in. But now, that person’s voice pulled me back to reality, and I was reminded of the fact that my naked body had been pressed against his bed as I was fucked senseless by his brother.

Still, no one was speaking. My face was buried in the comforter, where I planned on keeping it in order to avoid facing the situation I found myself in. The silence felt like a fifty pound weight pressing against my bare back, and I prayed to the universe that someone was going to speak. Just then, I felt Chris shift behind me; placing a hand on the back of my neck and leaning towards my ear.

“I know how to share what’s mine. Watch this.”

His words sent chills down my spine, and that chill was exemplified once I felt the heat of his body move away from me. Through the pounding anxiety in my head, I was able to hear a few footsteps followed by an entire conversation performed in well-executed whispers. Chris and Matt spoke in hushed tones for what felt like hours as I continued to stay in the place that Chris had left me; my heart racing and breath heaving at the thought of what they might be talking about. Chris’ last statement was ominous, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher what he meant: he wanted to share me with Matt.

As they spoke to one another, I went over the idea of it in my head. It was wrong, for sure. I was already fucking one of my best friends’ brothers, but to fuck both of them in one night was too far. Plus, I had never had any interest in Matt before. Him and I were friends, sure, but not once had I considered doing anything more with him. Because I was already fucking his brother, and his other brother is my best friend. It was wrong, end of story.

But then why did I feel a new trickle of my own arousal fall down my leg at the thought of Matt’s eyes glued to my naked body right now?

I’m fucked.

“You okay, Y/n?” I heard Chris’ voice and it pulled me out of my trance. I knew what he meant by that. “Yes.” I replied, wincing at the desperation laced through my tone. A chuckle came in response, then the sound of the door opening — bringing with it bright lights and an increase in clarity of the constant party chatter — before it clicked shut; and then, silence.

I could hear nothing around me but my own heavy breathing, and if I didn’t know any better I would genuinely believe that I was alone in the room at last. But I did know better, because I could feel his tired blue eyes on my body. I still hadn’t moved, couldn’t move. My face was still buried deep in his comforter and I was too afraid to face him yet. My legs felt like jello, and I knew that if I wasn’t already bent over his bed, I would have collapsed by now.

Finally, I hear footsteps. They were slow, and I couldn’t tell which direction they were going, but he was finally moving. Next I heard the shuffling sound of some sort of fabric, then more footsteps. This time, I was sure they were heading for me. I was proven right when I felt the heat of his body behind me. Suddenly, I released a sharp gasp when I felt the soft material of a towel against my lower back. Matt wiped the pool of his brother’s cum off of my lower back in silence, and even the accidental brush of his knuckles against my clammy skin set me on fire.

“So, this was what those marks on your wrists were from.” He finally spoke, and his voice in this setting was so unfamiliar that I physically jumped. In my silence, he assumed I didn’t understand what he meant, so I felt him tap lightly on the metal around my wrists. “The handcuffs.” He clarified even further. “Uh,” I cleared my throat, trying to sound confident, “Yeah.” At that, I felt his hands travel around the perimeter of the cuffs, trying to find something, when suddenly I heard a faint click and my wrists were free.

Taking the cuffs completely off of me, he rubbed my aching wrists gently with both hands. Even this touch, one seemingly so innocent and caring, shot waves of pleasure to my core. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His words grounded me for just a moment; reminding me that this is in fact real life, yet still I responded with zero hesitation. “I’m sure.”

Again, silence. But this time, it was accompanied by the remarkable feeling of Matt’s gentle fingers trailing down my spine, leaving goosebumps in their trail. “Turn around for me.” His voice had dropped an octave since he last spoke, and while it was still far from threatening, it was no longer the comforting tone he had used as he took my cuffs off.

The shame I had previously felt from the situation had been stripped off of me by his touch, so I barely hesitated before lifting my head off of the bed and turning my body so that I was now facing him. In the dark, the outline of his body looked nearly identical to his brother, but I was able to easily tell the difference. My body didn’t react in excited fear when I saw his frame, but instead it responded in anticipatory comfort; as if I knew I had nothing to be nervous about.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, I watched his chest rise and fall in silence for a moment. Unable to really see his eyes, I was unsure what he was looking at, but I knew he was looking at me. Just then, I watched as he climbed onto his bed, meeting me where I was. He leaned so close to me that I had to allow my head to fall back against the comforter. Now laying on top of me, using one arm to brace his weight, I suddenly felt the lust seeping out of his veins just before his lips attached to mine.

His lips were slightly softer, and slightly fuller than Chris’, and they moved with just the slightest bit more apprehension for a moment. That quickly dissipated, however, as after just a few short moments I felt his tongue run against my lower lip; begging for access to my mouth. I obliged, and relished in the new and exciting taste of him. His lips were cold — the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his skin told me that was because he had just been outside — and they felt amazing against my own hot, swollen lips. As I felt one of his hands snake up to my chest, I released a soft moan. My pleasure began to double, and then triple, when I felt him squeeze my tit and run a thumb along my hardened nipple before doing the exact same to the other one.

Having complete access to my hands for the first time in what felt like forever, I used that to my advantage and began exploring Matt’s body. His frame was slightly thinner than Chris’, and I relished in the feeling of a raised, fresh tattoo against my fingers as I traveled down his arm. Reaching his waist, I grazed my hand against his clothed member; already painfully hard and pressing against his jeans. As I palmed it a few times, Matt released a soft moan in my ear before moving his mouth down to my left tit; swirling his slippery tongue against my nipple and causing me to shutter in pleasure. After taking his time with the left, he moved his mouth to the right. While Chris’ favourite part of my body is my ass, clearly Matt has found his own personal favourite.

While the feeling of his mouth on my tit was already causing my head to spin, I desperately needed more. I fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans, before slowly pulling them down his legs and hopefully granting his member some relief. With his mouth still on my tit, Matt helped me by pulling them down the rest of the way, along with his boxers. Once his boxers were off and his cock was able to spring free, I immediately grabbed it in my hand and began pumping up and down. Another soft groan left his lips, and the vibration from it against my sensitive nipples caused me to moan in reply.

As I pumped his member in my hand, I felt his own hand trail down my body before finally landing on the place where I needed it the most. As if he knew my body by heart, Matt found my clit in seconds and wasted no time before rubbing it at the same pace that I was jerking him off at. His mouth detached from my tit and found mine, but in our world of equal pleasure the kiss was sloppy; our mouths fell open at times and tongues swiped in and out mindlessly.

“Y-you feel good?” Asked Matt, his voice soft and choppy at the same time. Nodding my head, I widened my legs with the desperation of needing more. “Want to feel all of y-you Matt.” I whispered, opening my eyes and finally meeting his. In the dim light, they were glossed over. His pupils were so dilated that, if I didn’t know him before, I would have assumed his eyes were brown. He blinked at me for a quick moment, but didn’t make me wait long before positioning himself in between my legs.

I watched in awe as his body hovered over mine. I flinched slightly as he lined his member up to my opening; my core still slightly sore from a few minutes ago. Noticing, Matt looks back up at me. “I’ll go slow, okay?” Nodding, I drop my jaw as Matt sinks into me, keeping true to his word but still bottoming out. I felt every inch of him stretch me out, and as he stayed still to allow me a moment to adjust to him, I couldn’t help but release a frustrated moan. As if he has been in tune with my needs for years, Matt takes this simple remark for what it means, and slowly began thrusting into me.

Although his pace is slow, his shaft pleasures what seems like every nerve inside of me before finally reaching my spongey g-spot with a quick snap on each thrust. His movements are so pleasurable it’s almost excruciating, and I struggle to keep the moans from falling helplessly from my mouth. What’s more, is that even with my eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, I can feel his eyes on my face, taking in every expression and hushed sound that I make. “You want more?” He asks, his voice in a strained whisper. I shake my head. “N-no. Keep going just like that, please.” I reply, and I release a breathy moan when I feel him wrap my legs around his waist before continuing in the same unbeatable rhythm.

I run my hands through his dark brown hair, before allowing them to rest on the nape of his neck. I relished in the feeling of his back muscles tensing on each meticulously controlled thrust, before pulling his head down so that I could kiss him. Normally, I’m not someone who cares much about kissing during sex, but there was something about the deprivation and tenderness of his soft kiss that seemed to bring me even closer to an orgasm than his cock did. As he kissed me, his pace never wavered, but I could tell by the soft grunts falling from his lips that he was getting close.

As if reading my mind, he suddenly pulled out of me and I felt him shift on the bed. Thinking that he was about to cum on my stomach and that I was going to once again be deprived of an orgasm, I felt embarrassing tears well up in my eyes. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the sudden feeling of his tongue twirling skillfully against my clit. My hands immediately flew to his hair, and I was no longer capable of holding back the moans that fell from my lips. As he continued eating my pussy, he slid two fingers into my core and began pumping them the exact same way he pumped his cock into me just moments before.

In that moment, I was in total euphoria. I was sure that my knuckles were turning white from the death grip that I had on Matt’s hair, just as I was sure that if anyone was on the other side of the bedroom door — or, in the bathroom for that matter — they would definitely hear the filth that was falling from my mouth. But I had lost the ability to care, because all of my thoughts were highjacked by the unutterable levels of pleasure that were surging through my body in that moment.

And what made everything that much more intense, was the fact that Matt so clearly loved what he was doing to me. Every few seconds, I felt a deep moan fall from his mouth and vibrate off of my bundle of nerves, and in the off chance that I had my eyes open, watching him, I noticed him grinding his hips against his bed to gain some sort of relief. “I-I — oh fuck! — Matt, I’m c-close!” I exclaimed, feeling the waves of my orgasm rise threateningly close to the surface.

At my proclamation, Matt moved in one swift motion and slid his cock back into me. His pace was the same as it was before, but this time his thumb found my swollen clit and he began rubbing it quickly. “Gonna cum too. Where do you want me?” My legs were back around his waist, and my fingers were digging into his shoulder blades as I struggled to gather my thoughts. “Anywhere you want Matt!” My words breathless and exclamatory, I was barely able to get them out before an indescribable orgasm tore through my body.

I might have truly screamed out in pleasure, and dug my nails into Matt’s skin so far that he bled, but I have no way of knowing for sure — I had lost all of my senses through the overwhelming waves of pleasure. All I remember is feeling as if the pressure that had been building up inside of me for so long had been too much, and my brain had exploded. For what could have been minutes or hours — but which was probably only a few seconds — I truly thought that I might have died. But then, suddenly, I was back in my body, and it was convulsing uncontrollably through a life altering orgasm.

When I came back to my senses, Matt had his damp forehead resting against mine. His body had stilled above me, but I could feel his member twitching inside of me; painting my walls in his signature shade of white. Both of our breathing was ragged as if we had both just completed a marathon, and we both stayed still, in complete silence, as we came down from our highs.

After a few moments, Matt placed a soft kiss to my forehead before slowly removing himself from my centre. I watched him walk over to where he had discarded the towel, picking it up and bringing it over to me to help me clean myself up. So far neither of us had spoken, but I didn’t care very much as my mind was still not fully connected to my body. Finally, he spoke. “You still feel okay about this?” He asked as he began putting his clothes on. I smiled, almost laughing at the absurdity of the caution in his words. “I feel more than okay Matt.” I replied, to which he released a small laugh before handing me my shirt.

Once I was dressed, I managed to get myself to my feet. Standing at the edge of the bed, I suddenly felt nervous about walking back out into the party after being gone for so long. As if he read my mind once again, Matt walked to the door first. “I’ll head out first, then you can come out in a few minutes.” I laughed nervously but nodded. “Sounds good. See you out there.” I watched as his hand reached for the door knob before turning back to the bed to find my phone.

“Oh and Y/n?” I faced him again, “Chris might be good at sharing, but I’m not.”

His words made my already unsteady knees wobbly, and I dropped back onto the bed once he closed the bedroom door behind him. All at once, every moment of the night hit me like a freight train, and I finally realized what happened. I fucked Matt. Just a few hours ago, I was pretending to have a normal conversation with him as I was green with envy watching Chris make out with that girl. I had never planned on doing anything even close to what I had done with him, yet here I am, sitting on his bed. I close my eyes. I can still feel him inside of me. He was so good. But Chris was also sogood. Both of my best friends’ triplet brothers. How did I get here?

I’m fucked.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

1K notes · View notes

queerautism · 3 months ago

Text

It feels kinda wild I've seen no one mention the huge controversy NaNoWriMo was in about 7 months ago (Link to a reddit write up, there's also a this google doc on it) in this whole recent AI discourse. The main concerns people had were related to the 'young writers' forum, a moderator being an alledged predator, and general moderation practices being horrible and not taking things like potential grooming seriously.

About 5 months ago, after all of that went down, MLs or 'Municipal Liaisons', their local volunteers organisers for different regions of the world, were offered a horrible new agreement that basically tried to shut them up about the issues they'd been speaking up about. Some of these issues included racism and ableism that the organisation offered zero support with.

When there was pushback and MLs kept sharing what was going on, NaNoWriMo removed ALL OF THEM as MLs and sent in a new, even more strict agreement that they would have to sign to be allowed back in their volunteer position.

This agreement included ways of trying to restrict their speech even further, from not being able to share 'official communications' to basically not being allowed to be in discord servers to talk to other MLs in places not controlled by NaNoWriMo. You also had to give lots of personal information and submit to a criminal background check, despite still explicitly leaving their local regions without support and making it very clear everyone was attending the OFFICIAL in person events 'at their own risk'.

Many MLs refused to sign and return. Many others didn't even know this was happening, because they did not get any of the emails sent for some reason. NaNoWriMo basically ignored all their concerns and pushed forward with this.

Many local regions don't exist anymore. I don't know who they have organising the rest of them, but it's likely spineless people that just fell in line, people who just care about the power, or new people who don't understand what's going on with this organisation yet. Either way, this year is absolutely going to be a mess.

Many of the great former MLs just went on to organise their writing communities outside of the official organisation. NaNoWriMo does not own the concept of writing a novel in a month.

R/nanowrimo is an independent subreddit that has been very critical of the organisation since this all happened, and people openly recommend alternatives for word tracking, community, etc there, so I highly recommend checking it out.

I've seen Trackbear recommended a lot for an alternative to the word tracking / challenge, and will probably be using it myself this November.

Anyway, just wanted to share because a lot of people haven't heard about this, and I think it makes it extremely clear that the arguments about "classism and ableism" @nanowrimo is using right now in defense of AI are not vaguely misguided, but just clear bullshit. They've never given a single shit about any of that stuff.

#nanowrimo #national novel writing month #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

1K notes · View notes

sanguineterrain · 4 months ago

Text

crushin' | jason todd

Summary: Barbara invites you to dinner with the Bats. She's done so before, and you've always declined, but this time, you agree because the Bat you've had a crush on for ages will be there. Little do you know, the only reason he's staying for dinner is because of you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings/tags: batfam shenanigans, dick is a good meddling brother and deserves a fruit basket, fluff and humor, kissing, crushes, love confessions. just wanted to write something sweet and light :)

the divider

"So you're gonna press this," Barbara says, demonstrating on her own screen.

You follow along, clicking and typing. She nods.

"Good. Then you're gonna do this."

You open the file. A video of what looks to be Bruce drunkenly hula-hooping pops up. Your eyes widen.

"And that's how you keep Bruce in check," Barbara says, patting your shoulder. "Use sparingly. Only when he's getting on your last nerve."

"Wow," you say. "Babs, I... I don't know if I should have this kind of power."

"No, it's cool. I have dirt on everyone in this family, so really, it's my power. You're the only one who gets to see the vault."

You look at her. "You scare me."

She grins. "Thanks! Anyway, you're free to go. They'll be back from the mission soon, so our job is pretty much over."

The computer beeps. She checks the notification and types back. Then she hums.

"Or, you can, y'know, join us for dinner. Alfred keeps wondering when you'll do so."

You press your lips together. "I dunno, Babs... are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"You're not. Seriously. And you know what I just found out? Jason will be here too."

Well. That does certainly stop your refusal in its tracks. You haven't seen Jason properly since he returned. You feel a pang of guilt at that; true, he's never at the Manor, at least not when you're around. But you could've reached out by now.

Still, being able to see him again properly is a wonderful opportunity. One you can't pass up.

"Okay," you say. "I'll join you all. As long as Alfred's okay with it."

She rolls her eyes, smiles. "Don't be ridiculous. C'mon."

You follow her to the elevator Bruce got installed for her. In the Manor, most of the family are sitting down to dinner. Damian and Cass are on one side of the table. Bruce is at the head. Alfred is still bustling in the kitchen.

You start to pull out the chair next to Cass, but Barbara startles you.

"That's Dick's chair!" She smiles sympathetically. "Sorry. He's particular. Isn't he, guys?"

"Yes," Cass says. "He's comfortable here."

"I've no idea what you're referring to, Gordon," says Damian. He nods at you. "Hello."

You smile. "Hey, Damian. That's fine. I'll sit next to you, Babs." You sit in the middle of three chairs, with Barbara on your right and an empty chair on your left.

"Hi, Cass. Hello, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce," he reminds you. That's not happening. It feels way too weird to call him Bruce, even though you've known him since Jason was Robin. Just, no.

Cass smiles. "Hello. Glad to have you."

"Where's Tim and Duke?" you ask.

"Thomas is at university," Damian says. "Drake is probably with that idiot clone he calls a boyfriend."

Bruce looks up. "Tim and Connor are dating?"

"Good God," Barbara mumbles.

"Well, yes, Father. They've been dating for quite some time, even shared a room together. Last month, Drake went undercover in Atlantic City and the clone—"

"Old man! Where are you?"

"Jason, just—"

"Shut it, Dickhead."

The grandfather clock swings open, revealing the Cave entrance. Up stomps Jason, followed by Dick. Jason has a smear of purple goo on his forehead, but otherwise is clean. His back is to you.

Jason points an accusing gloved finger at Bruce. "You owe me a new bike, new guns, new gear, new phone, new—"

"Jason, slow down. Why exactly do I owe you new things?" Bruce asks.

"Because Tweedle-Dum here didn't scan the fuckin' spaceship that landed in Syracuse and melted my bike with purple goo!"

"It said it was empty," Dick says tiredly. "How was I supposed to know an abandoned ship would spit goo?"

"Okay, alright, boys, don't fight. Yes, Jason, I'll compensate everything you lost in Syracuse."

"Yeah, you will. And a new fridge." Jason thinks. "And a new TV."

"Master Jason," Alfred begins, walking into the dining room with a dish of roasted potatoes. "You may continue your bargaining with Master Bruce after dinner. Wipe that alien sludge off your face and have a seat."

Jason sighs. "Alf, I appreciate the invite, but you know I don't dine with most of the folks at this table. Gets real fuckin' crowded."

"Master Jason, watch your language," Alfred says sternly. "We have a guest. Behave like the young man I raised you to be."

Jason scoffs. "Who, Barbie? She doesn't—" He turns and stops, staring at you.

You smile, suddenly self-conscious. "Hi."

He swallows, eyes wide. "Hi. Hey."

"Aren't you staying for dinner?" you ask, confused. "Barbara said you were."

"I—" He glances at Barbara, then looks at you. "Uh. Well. I don't really..."

"C'mon, Jay, you guys should catch up!" Dick says brightly, already seated.

Jason's mouth sours as he turns to Dick. You pull out the chair next to you and tap the seat.

"You can sit next to me," you say, looking up at Jason.

He immediately turns back to you, lips parted. "Oh. I—y-yeah. Sure. Thanks."

"Master Jason. The goo," Alfred reminds, raising a brow. "And hang up your jacket."

Jason quickly backs up and bumps into the table corner. He winces.

"Right. I'm gonna... yeah. Be right back."

Jason disappears down the hall. Dick grins wolfishly at Barbara.

"You're amazing," he says.

"I know," she says, shrugging.

Alfred serves the last tray of vegetables, then sits. Jason soon returns, gloves and jacket away and goo-free.

"Did you style your hair, Todd?" Damian asks.

"No. Shut it." Jason scoots in his chair, glaring at his brother. But when you pass him the tray of roast, his expression softens. He smiles at you.

"Thanks," he says, and puts three slices on his plate. "Great roast, Alf."

"You haven't tried it," Alfred says, but looks very pleased.

"Don't need to."

"We're very glad you're here, Jason," Bruce says. "All things considered—"

Jason holds up a hand. "Ah-ah. I'm not here for you, old man. Save the speech for another day."

"And who are you here for, Jason?" Dick asks, propping his chin on his hands.

"None of your beeswax, Dick."

Dick shrugs. Damian begins to talk about an art project in school. You pay the appropriate amount of attention until Jason nudges your arm.

"Hey," he says, nodding at your empty glass. "Didja get something to drink?"

"Oh." Heat creeps up your neck. "Um, no. Sorry. I didn't know where to get the drinks."

"'S okay. Alf doesn't put out drinks anymore 'cause everybody drinks something different. You just help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'll get it for ya."

"Jason, you don't have to—"

He holds up a hand, smiling. "C'mon, none of that. You're a guest. Orange Fanta, right?"

You blink. "You remembered."

"Uh." His cheeks go pink. "I mean, yeah. No biggie. I'll be back."

Jason stands. Immediately, the others pounce.

"Are you going to the kitchen?" Dick asks.

"No," Jason says.

"Can you get me another Diet Coke?"

"Todd, if you're going to the kitchen, I would like another lemonade, please," Damian says.

"I just said I'm not going to the—"

"Master Jason, will you please bring this into the kitchen?" Alfred asks, holding up an empty tray.

Jason heaves a sigh. You wince.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He shakes his head and winks. "Nah, 's not you."

Obediently, Jason takes the tray and goes to the kitchen. He returns with a Diet Coke, which he tosses at Dick, who catches it with one hand, and a bottle of lemonade, which he throws to Damian who also catches it with one hand and a scowl. Finally, Jason opens the Orange Fanta for you and gently pours it into your glass, then sets the half-full can next to your plate. He sits down.

"Of course they get special treatment," Dick mumbles into his drink.

The table rattles, and Dick winces, squinting at Jason. The table rattles again, and Jason hisses.

"Boys," Bruce says wearily. "Enough."

"Yeah, Jason," Dick says, sticking his nose up. "Y'know it's my birthday soon. I deserve a brother who doesn't kick me."

"Oh, I'll tell ya what you deserve," Jason begins.

"Are we doing laser tag?" Cass pipes up from the end.

"'Course we are! Everybody's gonna be there." Dick looks pointedly at Jason. "Except my own brother. He refused."

You look at Jason, who's got a nasty glower aimed at Dick.

"You're not coming?" you ask.

Jason's expression melts away when he turns to you. "Uh, I mean—"

"No, he's not," Dick says, pulling the saddest pout you've ever seen. "He said he wanted nothing to do with my stupid birthday."

"Those weren't my exact words."

"They were very close," Damian says.

"Shut—"

"Jason, I can't believe you aren't going to Dick's birthday," Barbara says, shaking her head.

Jason's mouth falls open. "Et tu, Barbie?"

"You should come," you say, touching Jason's arm.

He immediately looks at your hand. You slowly remove it, smiling sheepishly.

"Then we can be a team," you say. "We're playing doubles. I'm horrendously bad at laser tag, but I bet we'd win together. I'd watch your six."

"Leaving them in the lurch, Jason?" Barbara tuts. "So unlike you."

Jason heaves a sigh. "For God—okay. Alright, brother mine. You win."

You beam. "So you'll come?"

"'Long as you and I are a team," Jason says, a little shy.

You bump his shoulder with yours. "Of course."

Dick looks at you. "You should join us for dinner every night."

You laugh bashfully. "Thanks, Dick."

Dinner goes on. Bruce excuses himself early, as do Cass and Damian. Soon, it's the four of you plus Alfred cleaning up after dinner. You and Jason are loading the dishwasher when Jason hisses. He pulls out his hand, revealing a thin red cut on his palm.

"Are you okay?" you ask, hovering worriedly.

"Yeah, 'm fine. I'll take the tray—"

"Jason, no," Dick says, herding him away from the dishwasher. "You have to get that wrapped immediately."

"What are you—dude, it's a tiny cut—"

"Yeah, but there was food on there, and you have no idea what can get into the wound and make you sick," Barbara says seriously. "You need to get it cleaned right now."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever. There's a first aid kit in the closet."

"There isn't!" Dick says, shooing Jason toward you. "Alfred hasn't restocked it. You have to go to the Cave. You should both go."

"Yes, great idea," Barbara says, looking at you. "You have medical experience, don't you?"

"I mean, a little, but—"

"More than us!" Dick says, shoving you both towards the hallway.

"I don't think so..."

"You take care of Jaybird here, he needs that hand," Dick says cheerily, opening the Cave entrance. "Go on, go."

"Christ on a bike," Jason mumbles, and heads down the stairs.

You follow, confused and concerned. The entrance slides closed. Jason goes to the medbay, muttering under his breath as he digs through one of the drawers with one hand. You join him, searching the top drawer for the antiseptic spray.

"Is the cut really bad?" you ask, trying to get a better look.

"No. My brother's just an idiot. Nothin' new."

You pull out the spray, some gauze, and a bandaid. Jason nods in thanks and goes to take it.

"I can do it," you say. "I do have medical experience, after all."

He snorts. "Fine by me."

You both sit on the edge of a cot. You turn to Jason and pull his hand into your lap. He inhales sharply. You stop.

"Is this okay?" you ask.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Sorry. I don't get touched a lot." Jason's mouth screws up. "Ugh. That sounded weird."

You laugh. "It's fine, I know what you meant."

He scratches the back of his neck while you clean his hand. He has big hands. Bigger than you remember. They're deeply scarred and calloused. You rub your thumbs over the pads of his fingers without thinking.

"You got soft hands," Jason says quietly.

"Heh. Thanks. The computer life."

He hums. "I didn't know you were working with Babs."

The guilt swims back full force.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should've reached out, Jason. I-I basically ignored you. Not on purpose! I just... I guess I wasn't sure where we stood and I thought maybe you'd be mad I was working for Batman after everything and I was afraid that we wouldn't—"

"Hey, whoa. 'M not mad." Jason finds your gaze. You frown. "I'm serious. I don't mind that you're working for Bruce. I mean, hell, I do too, on occasion. Mostly I just bitch at him."

You giggle. He smiles. You're still holding his hand. You don't really want to let go. Jason doesn't seem to want to pull away either.

"Well, even so, I'm sorry for not reaching out. I did miss you, Jason. And I'm glad you're back."

He clears his throat, ducking his head. "Huh. Well, I missed you too. And y'got nothin' to apologize for. I could've asked about you."

"Well—"

"Uh-uh, no, I'm the king of self-deprication. Y'can't take that from me," Jason says, eyes dancing with mirth.

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, fine. Can we say that we both could've reached out?"

"That's agreeable. And, uh, while we're clearing the air, I'm so terribly sorry 'bout my dumbass brother."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, huh. Hm. Well, funny thing. I kinda had a, um, crush on you, before. And Dick has it in his head that I... that I have a chance now. So... yeah."

"Before?" you ask.

You don't know why you're disappointed. It's not like you knew. Except maybe if you had, you wouldn't have missed out. Maybe you wouldn't have lost so much time.

Jason glances at you. "What... why are you sayin' it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you wish... that I..." He shakes his head. "Forget it."

"Jason," you say, barely a whisper.

He looks at you. His eyes flick to your lips, just for a millisecond. "Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

A beat. Your heart falls.

"Yeah." Jason nods. "Yeah, kiss me."

You heart soars.

You hold Jason's face, still holding his hand. He gingerly touches your neck with his uninjured hand, strokes behind your ear with his thumb. Every nerve alights. You're kissing Jason Todd. The boy you've loved since you were thirteen.

"They did it! They're kissing!"

Jason growls against your mouth. You know it's not aimed at you, but it makes lightning shoot down your spine. Wow.

"'M gonna kill 'im," Jason mumbles.

You smile and pull back, just an inch. "It's nearly his birthday. At least wait till next week."

"Hm." Jason kisses the corner of your mouth. You like him so much. "Fine. Y'know you can convince me of pretty much anything? Wield that power carefully."

You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason braces you with a hand on the small of your back.

"I'm very flattered, but I think you're confused, Jay." A kiss to his jaw. "It's you who has a hold on me."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #red hood imagine #jason todd x gender neutral reader #gn reader #jason todd imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #jason todd fluff

2K notes · View notes

ahgasegotarmy116 · 4 months ago

Text

It's Hard to Believe | Jungkook One Shot

Summary: Getting pregnant with your best friend's baby definetly wasn't a part of the plan... Pairing: f!Reader x Jungkook (fwb, f2l) Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: A tiny bit of explicit and suggestive language but nothing crazy a/n: This is something I started writing at like midnight and it's kinda shit but I thought I might as well post it since I haven't posted in a while (Like five days short of a month wtf?!?!? How has it been that long?!?!) (I just barely checked rn lmao my bad 🥲) p.s. I kinda wanna do a full on series on a concept like this but it'll be different and less fluffy but that won't be happening for a long ass time but yeah lol Requested by a lovely anon 💜

"How am I supposed to tell him?" I ask my friend Sam for the millionth time since I found out. "Y/n just tell him. You guys have been friends for how long?" she asks and it's like I'm having deja vu from both of our responses. "Like ten years" I mumble and pull my sweatshirt sleeves down over my hands in an effort to stop my nervous fiddling but it only makes it worse.

"Right and you guys have been messing around with each other for over a year now, maybe even more...I don't wanna know" she says while holding her hand up in a way to assure me that she doesn't need the details. "Just tell him. If he's as great of a guy as you keep on telling me he is then I promise everything will be okay" she says and places a hand on my shoulder before she gets up off my couch.

"Where are you going?" I ask while she shrugs on her jacket. "Didn't you say he's supposed to be here around five?" she asks and I nod my head, checking the clock and seeing that it's already 4:30.

"Yeah...are you sure you don't wanna stay and say hi?" I ask and she glares at me. "Let me know what his response is to that bun in the oven and then we'll talk. I wanna figure out if he's an asshole or not before I decide to waste anytime on him" she says while lacing up her shoes.

"Promise me you'll tell him tonight?" she asks and lifts up her hood, getting ready to shield herself from the pouring rain outside. I nod my head reluctantly, that being way more progress than I've made for the past few weeks since I found out. "I promise" I utter under my breath and she smiles, pulling me in for a bone crushing hug.

"Text me if you need me" she says, worried for what might happen but hoping for the best. "I will...thanks" I whisper and she nods her head before walking out of my door and turning slightly and waving to offer me one last farewell.

I close the door after I see her get into her car and lean my back up against it, steadying myself for a second and taking deep breaths, trying to stop my racing heartbeat before pushing off of it and tidying up before Jungkook gets here to distract myself.

Sam has been the only one I've been able to count on and honestly the only person I can trust since I haven't told anyone else. She was the one I called when I missed my period and she's the one who brought me a pregnancy test...and then when out and bought me ten more because I couldn't actually grasp the concept that I was pregnant...am pregnant.

Jungkook and I have always been careful and taken all the necessary steps to keep this from happening but I guess we got careless this time.

Through out this whole arrangement we've made it very clear to each other that we're not sleeping with anyone else but neither of us are looking for any sort of commitment either so that's why this has gone on for so long.

Like it or not though we're going to be committed to each other in one way or another no matter what because I'm keeping this baby. No matter what he says I'm keeping them.

Jungkook is my best friend, the one person who has been there for me through everything. He's seen me at all of my highest highs and especially at my lowest lows and no matter what he's never made me feel shitty about it. I know he's not the kind of guy that'll turn on you because of something like this but I can't help but still feel terrified.

This wasn't supposed to happen but even if this child wasn't made with love from his side...it was made with love from mine.

I don't know how long it's been since I fell in love with him but I know I shouldn't have said yes to this whole fuck buddy ordeal. I just couldn't stand the thought of him being with someone else so when he offered up the idea I said yes.

I figured that if this was a way to prevent him from getting his heart broken by all those sorry excuses of girlfriends he's had in the past then I guess I'll be okay with breaking mine.

He's been acting different lately though. He's been a lot touchier, asking to come over more often, going out of his way to help me with things, offering to feed me all the time and all of it is making me feel like he already knows.

Does he know? Have I started showing already? I haven't really noticed a difference in my body yet but he looks at me naked a lot more often than I pay attention to myself naked so I mean I guess he could've noticed right?

Only one way to find out though...

A half an hour later I hear him take out his keys and unlock my door and soon I'm greeted with a smile that tugs at my heartstrings.

"Hi baby" he says, using that pet name he's become very fond of since this whole ordeal started. The sound of it after finding out I'm pregnant with his baby has made me a little uncomfortable though since I haven't told him yet.

Don't get me wrong I love it when he calls me that but I can't help but think that if this goes south that he won't ever call me that again.

Maybe the hormones have started to scramble my brain already because those uncomfortable feelings are quickly thrown away when I take in the sight of him after he shrugs off his rain coat. A simple black baggy hoodie and jeans engulf his form and the comfy sight just makes me want to curl up in bed with him and forget about everything and everyone.

Just him and I, it's always been him and I. I just don't know if this little one is going to change things.

I place a hand on my stomach for a second as a way to gain some strength from my itty bitty baby before finally working up the courage to greet him.

"Hi" I greet him softly, walking over to where he's stopped to take off his shoes and when he looks back up at me he smiles again and kisses me. I sigh into it, savoring it for just a little bit longer and when it finally breaks he looks down at me with concern now written all over his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sensing that something's off right away from the just the small change in the way I kissed him. I hesitate for a second then simply hold out my hand for him to take and he does, following behind me as I lead him over to my couch.

Getting this over with sooner rather than later is my best option right now so there's no reason to delay.

He needs to know, he deserves to know.

We sit there in silence, longer than he would like us to since I can tell how tense his body has gotten in a matter of minutes. "Y/n you're scaring me" he whispers, not wanting to pressure me but relaying his feelings.

I take a couple more deep breaths before finally starting. "I need you to listen to me and I need you to please not speak until I'm finished" I say while looking down at my lap, not being able to meet his eyes.

He murmurs a soft 'okay' and waits for me to continue, taking one of my hands and placing it in his lap. He needs some form of physical contact to keep him grounded since he's not too sure what to expect and I let him, knowing I need some reassurance too.

Even if I don't know what his reaction is gonna be, in this moment I need it more than ever.

"I guess there's really no right way to go about saying this because this wasn't supposed to happen so I'm just gonna come out and say it..." I start off and he squeezes my hand, encouraging me to keep going.

"I missed my period...over a month ago...and I haven't had it since then" I say and finally look up at him where he has an unsure expression. It's not one that's mad or disappointed with what I've said thus far which is a good thing but more like he's trying hard to hold himself back so he can keep that promise.

His hold on my hand hasn't loosened, in fact it's gotten even tighter and that gives me hope that we'll work this out so I take another deep breath before continuing.

"I tried to kid myself into thinking that it was late but when another week passed by I got nervous. I asked Sam to get me a test and it came out positive. I didn't believe it and thought it was a false positive and so to ease my mind she went a bought ten more from a bunch of different brands and...all of them came out positive" I say and he still looks at me with that same expression, waiting for me to give him the okay to speak and so I do.

"How long have you known?" are the first words out of his mouth and although they're not negative they aren't necessarily positive either. "About a month now" I say and he nods his head, taking another second or two to formulate what he's gonna say next.

"I'll support you no matter what you decide" he says and I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding in. "I wanna keep it" I say and he nods his head and smiles softly at first and then as the seconds go by it gets wider and wider making my heart beat faster.

"Am I allowed to get excited now?" he whispers and I can't help but chuckle as tears start to prickle my eyes and give him a nod. "You're excited?" I say, my whole being slowly overcome with emotion.

"How could I not be?" he scoffs playfully but that answer has me confused. "But Jungkook we're not together. I mean we're not in a relationship, we're just friends" I explain and there's a playful glint in his eyes after I say that that's making me even more nervous.

"You wanna know what I thought you were gonna tell me?" he offers up, slightly changing topics but I look at him in a way to urge him to continue. "I thought you were gonna break up with me" he says and I smile, "Jungkook we're not together. How could I break up with you?" I chuckle in disbelief.

"Correction, I thought you were gonna break up with me before I even got the chance to ask you to be my girlfriend" he says with a grin and my jaw drops, the dots all connecting as to why he's been acting so different lately. "You were gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?" I utter quietly as if we were in a crowed room and I had a secret for just the two of us.

"I had actually planned on asking you tonight" he explains, walking over to where he had placed his backpack on the floor, taking out a bouquet of slightly squished flowers. "Sorry they're all beat up. I forgot and rode my bike over here so I didn't really have any other option but to put them in there" he says almost as if he was nervous, rubbing the back of his neck and it's then that I notice how pink his ears have gotten.

He is nervous

I take them from him and smile, waiting for him to say it but he simply stands there and admires me and I can't help but laugh. "What so funny? I told you what happened to them" he utters through pouty lips which only makes me laugh more. "No, no it's not the flowers it's just that...don't you have something to say?" I ask, calming down my chuckles and when he looks at me with the same confused expression I have to try my hardest to keep the laughter at bay.

"Do you have something you would like to ask me Jungkook" I rephrase it and after a second his lips go from a pout to the shape of an 'O' as he's figured it out. "Oh um, yeah, right. Well I um" he starts off, rubbing the back of his neck again while stuttering and trying to find the words and after struggling for a second I decide to poke fun at him again.

"Jungkook I am literally carrying your child and you're too afraid to ask me to be your girlfriend?" I laugh, giving him a slight reality check which he scoffs at before responding.

"I was trying to remember what I had rehearsed to say to you but now that you're being a little brat I guess you'll never get to know all the nice things I was gonna say" he retorts, his voice suddenly taking on a darker tone that sends a shiver through my body and he smirks when he sees my reaction to it.

He cups my face and rubs his thumb along my bottom lip, making them part and he leans in as if he was going to kiss me but stops just shy of my lips. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he whispers, nudging his nose against mine and making me smile.

"I'll have to think about that" I play coy with him which he chuckles at. "You know if you weren't pregnant right now I would have thrown you over my lap for that smart mouth" he warns and I smile before leaning in and kissing him for just a second before pulling back.

"Yes I'll be your girlfriend" I say and nudge my nose against his as well and before I can register it my back is on the couch and his lips are pressed against mine, the kiss not rushed but full of so many words that have yet to be said and he gives in, not being able to hold it in anymore.

"I love you" he says, pulling back and looking down at me to see my expression which is completely dumbfounded to say the least. "You what?" I ask and he chuckles, "Is it really that hard to believe?" he points out and I guess now that I think about it it really isn't.

"I guess we've both been in love with each other for a while now huh?" I smile and his eyes light up at my round about confession. "Say it" he says, and I can feel my cheeks heating up. I hadn't planned on actually saying those three words to him even though I've felt them for so long but I don't want to hold them back anymore.

"I love you" I whisper and he smiles, "Say it again" he repeats, clearly not believing it just yet. "I love you Jungkook" I say and the little switch up with attaching his name to the end darkens his gaze. "I guess there's no chance in me getting you pregnant a second time right now huh?" he asks, sliding his hand up my thigh and I giggle.

"No I think that's pretty much impossible but the odds are never zero" I say and he rolls his eyes. "I'm trying to tell you that I wanna hit it raw" he states the obvious while rolling his eyes. "I know I know...and the answer is yes Daddy" I tease, testing to see how that word affects him now that he knows.

He tongues his cheek at that making me bite my lip, knowing that's gonna be even more of a trigger word for him from now on. "Daddy huh? Well I guess that title is a little more fitting now isn't it?"

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @00frenchfries00 @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater (Rest of the tags will be done in the reblogs 💜)

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts #kpop fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook x original character #jungkook and you #jungkook and reader #bts fic

991 notes · View notes

jasmineoolongtea · 6 months ago

Text

― i like the way you kiss me . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

― the ways in which they kiss you when you aren't actually together yet ₊˚⊹♡

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn! reader, choso x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuta x gn!reader, headcanons/brief drabbles, slightly suggestive for some of them if you squint a/n: just some headcanons i wanted to write after listening to i like the way you kiss me by artemas plus i needed a short writing break from my risk - megumi fic that i've been working on. hope you guys enjoy this !!!

gojo satoru kisses you like he misses you already despite barely being apart for more than a few hours. it didn't matter to him that he just saw you moments ago. that was nothing more than a trivial fact to him, just like the fact that you two still weren't actually together yet, in the grand scheme of things. why should he be waiting any second longer to feel your touch on him? he was never good at being patient anyways.

"missing me already huh?" you murmur against his lips, his hands securing you against him as he pinned you against the brick wall of the restaurant behind you two.

he scoffs at your comment. "oh shut up." his lips are on yours again in a matter of second. you weren't going to lie, you were enjoying this. to see someone so powerful like gojo satoru yet so susceptible to your presence to the point where he couldn't wait anymore to have your lips against his. with his flushed cheeks and slightly puffy lips, you want to forever immortalise this image of him in your mind. silently, you thanked whatever was out there that he decided to forgo his sunglasses tonight as their absence allowed you to truly appreciate the beauty of his eyes, even being able to notice the tiniest specks of what appeared to be gold in his pupils.

as he tilts his head to the side to better fit his features against yours, you swear you can feel his every breath with how flushed his chest is against yours. you even earn a soft groan from him when your fingers dance across his undercut, taking your time to run your hands through his snowy locks.

you're glad that his eyes are closed right now, getting a ticklish sensation as his long eyelashes kiss the expanses of your cheeks with the slight flutter of his eyes so that he isn't able to notice how the red blush that was once contained on your face has now expanded outwards to the tip of your eyes. he bites at your bottom lip gently, as if asking for permission to go further and you grant his request with a faint gasp of your own.

"noisy, aren't we?"

"oh shut up."

geto suguru kisses you like you're his already. the way he snakes his arms around your waist and presses his lips against yours only makes you sink further into his touch. if he wasn't holding you up right now, you would probably melt into the floor just from his proximity alone. you've been dancing around the issue for a few months now, fleeting touches in a dark room, longing glances across the room. it was all fun and games for both of you, seeing how long you could drag out this game of teasing and temptation until the other had enough. you thought you were doing pretty well. that is, until he decided to show up here again and well, just imagine the feeling of his lips against yours wasn't enough anymore.

you've always wondered what it would feel like to card your hands through his raven tresses and now, with your fingers tangled in up there, you can safely say it was better than you could have ever imagined. if it wasn't you who was the one messing up his hair, he would have some choice words to say about it, but as of right now, that was the least of his concerns. right now, his priority was seeing how long it would take for him to become consumed by his desire for you and it seemed like he wasn't going to last long. not with how you would let out a low whine every time his teeth grazed your lips or with your wandering hands taking this opportunity to explore the expanses of his well-sculpted back.

you feel like you've just had your breath stolen from you with how heavily you were panting against him, your faces flushed with want and kiss-swollen lips as evidence of what had recently transpired between the two of you. neither of you make the move to break apart as he leans down to ask.

"so what does this make us?"

nanami kento kisses you with so much restraint it only incites you to try and break down his defences further. his kisses barely feel like pecks, leaving you to subconsciously chase him for more every time he pulls away. he doesn't dare to try and do more, to push the boundary further. not only are you not technically together yet but also he's afraid. not of you, but rather of what would happen if he let his resolve fall and indulged in his selfish desires for what would be the first time in a long while.

he stops for a moment, his face barely hovering centimetres above from yours as his eyes flicker between your slightly agape mouth and your half-lidded eyes, watching him closely as you try to anticipate his next. he couldn't tell which one was drawing him in more at that moment. his breath hitches momentarily when he feels a soft tug at his tie, your right hand absent-mindedly toying with the edges of it as you place your other hand against his chest as if attempting to brace yourself against him. he couldn't tell but your legs felt like they were about to give out at any second with how every single cell in your body felt electrified with the amount of desire and anxiety coursing through your veins.

silence dragged on for what felt like ages, both of you unmoving in your positions until you muttered under your breath. "kento..." your voice was barely above a whisper but at that moment, it turns out that he was not as strong in his resolve as he thought he was with that being all he needed to dive right into you, fully untethered this time as his lips crashed against yours.

kamo choso kisses you like he's scared that this will be the first and last time he'll ever get to do so. there's so much fear and hesitation in his movements yet at the same time, you can feel the fervour and passion that is pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against you. his hands are hovering around your figure, scared to fully let himself hold you as if he's worried that the moment he makes contact, you're going to snap out of whatever daze you're in and run away from him. you aren't going to do that of course, if only he knew how long you were waiting for this to happen. as you feel the cold of the concrete wall against your back, the two of you part, albeit reluctantly, from each other to catch your breaths.

"..are you sure?" he asks breathlessly. his pupils are blown wide open as his eyes seemingly turn into infinite purple voids, watching your every movement unblinking.

you run your fingers across the back of his neck, toying slightly with some of the loose black strands that were clinging to his skin. he looks pretty like this, you think to yourself. he looks at you so eagerly, so soft and pliable in your hands, as he nervously awaits for your response.

"never been more sure."

fushiguro megumi kisses you like you're the air he breathes. who would have thought someone so famously reserved like megumi had it in him like this? you aren't given long to ponder on that thought as his lips are against yours once again, moving in sync with an imaginary rhythm as you frenziedly grasp at the material of his shirt in a weak attempt to try and ground you against his closeness to you. with every slide of his lips past yours, you're pretty sure that he's simultaneously taking and giving you back your breath which you previously thought would be impossible to do but are now sorely proven wrong.

you're not even a lightweight or anything when it comes to alcohol but you're pretty sure you're drunk on the feeling of him the moment his mouth was on yours. much to your surprise, the spikes that he calls his hair are actually pretty soft as you run your hands through them, a soft tug at the hair beneath your fingers drawing out a barely disguised groan from him. you giggle softly against his lips at his reaction and he silences you with another kiss, not that you were complaining as you ardently respond by tilting your head off to the side slightly to grant him better access to your face. your eyes are closed but you can imagine the half-hearted scowl on his face with how his brows furrow in the way that they always do against your forehead.

even though it was barely minutes ago, your mind is hazy as you try to remember the circumstances that led to this situation right now. it was probably a stupid argument that you guys got into, like the two of you usually do, and somehow that resulted in him wanting to prove his point more unconventionally. you give up on trying to recall the details as you can feel your face start to burn up as one of his hands start to wander down to rest against your hips.

"so," he pants, the heat of his breath is warm against your lips. "does that prove my point?"

itadori yuji kisses you eagerly, trying to savour every single moment of his lips against yours. you could feel the excitement basically pouring out from him with each movement of his lips against you, even eliciting a giggle from him that reverberates against your mouth as your noses bump against each other. it's a messy, disorganised sort of kiss with you being sure this is the third time you've accidentally grazed your teeth against his. fortunately for both of you, you're all way too engrossed and intoxicated on the sensation of the other's lips to care.

every time one of you tries to catch your breath, the other tries to chase your lips as they attempt to recapture that feeling again. as your arms encircle his neck, pulling you close to him, you're pretty sure you can feel him groan quietly against your lips with his hands reaching up to cup your face. with a deep sigh, you sink into his warm embrace, taking the moment to fully breathe him in like your life depended on it.

one of his hands falls from your face and gives a tentative squeeze at your waist to which you gasp quietly. taking this opportunity, he breaks apart from your lips and presses a flurry of kisses across your face which earns him a wide grin from you as you half-heartedly attempt to defend yourself from his sudden kiss attacks.

if you knew that a simple, experimental peck on the cheek could earn you this, maybe you should try to do this more.

okkotsu yuuta kisses you like you're a dream come true. hear him out. he never thought that he would get to experience touch like this ever again in his life, nevermind it coming from you in this manner. to him, you were what sweet dreams were made of, so ethereal, so delicate and so much better than whatever could exist in such a cruel world like this. but once again, defying all his expectations, you were here right in front of him and your lips were on his, faster than in the blink of an eye.

cradling the back of your head with his hands, he leans into the feeling of your lips against his as the two of you move in sync with each other. as if the moment couldn't get better, it was as if your lips were perfectly moulded for his or vice versa. he didn't care which way it was, all this fact did was solidify the thought in his mind that you were sent down onto earth from whatever heavenly plane people like you come from just for him to bask in the presence of.

his eyes are closed for two reasons. one, because he's scared that if he opens his eyes, this will be nothing more than a dream that he has to wake up from and two because he's pretty sure that if he was able to see you in your flushed, kiss dazed glory, he would explode on the spot.

despite being able to tell how badly he's been wanting to kiss you, he doesn't let it overpower him, instead taking the upmost care to make sure that you were still unharmed, treating you as if you were some piece of delicate china that could break at the slightest of wrong moves. while it was nice, you were feeling particularly greedy in that moment. you wanted more.

right as he breaks apart for air, you're already back to pulling him closer than humanly possible at this point by the collar of his shirt and you find that you're rewarded with a soft gasp escaping from him as your lips find each other again, this time with a renewed sense of desire and want.

2K notes · View notes

xxchumanixx · 27 days ago

Text

Glimpses

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, Bucky (yes, he's a warning), reader has the ability to show other people images in their head (does that make sense?), otherwise not described, spoilers for fatws

Word count: tba

Authors note: To be honest, I've been working on this for months, bit by bit. I didn't have much time to write or post something lately, and somehow, the motivation went with it. But I love this man to no end, and I had to finish this (for my sake, too). Im not a hundred percent happy with it, but we're just gonna roll with it.

I hope you enjoy it.

It gnawed at you, gripping you with a hand made of iron, it's icy fingers sending chills down your spine.

How could she do this to you?

Someone you once envied for being related to Peggy Carter, one of the founders of SHIELD, maybe one of the coolest persons to have ever existed.

Now, you couldn't help but pity Sharon Carter.

Sam nudged your foot with his, ripping you out of your thoughts. "What's up with you?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed.

Blinking at him, you tried to grasp what he was talking about, before shaking your head with a sigh.

"When Sharon was pardoned, I heard her say something I don't know what to think of..." you mumbled, biting your cheek. Sam rose a brow in return, Bucky's furrowing.

You were sitting in a private jet, a small table in front of you, with Sam sitting diagonally to your right and Bucky to your left.

"When she came out, she dialed someone, saying something about super soldiers being off the menu, weapons and 'should be something for everyone'." you recited what you had heard her say.

You had been there to congratulate her, welcome her back. But, when she stepped out the building, immediately dialing someone, you hid back in the crowd, carefully listening.

Yeah, eavesdropping wasn't nice, but something urged you to do it.

And you had been right.

"Nah," Sam made, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You must have misheard her."

Licking your lip, you shook your own head. "No, I know what I've heard."

Sam's brows furrowed, eyes trained on you. "Y/N, I'm sure you just misheard her." he repeated his words softer.

Eyes widening, your mouth was agape. "Sam-" you started, but he cut you off. "No, Y/N-" "Sam!" with a yell of his name and a slam of your hand on the table, you locked eyes, letting your power whir to life.

You could see your own eyes change color in his iris, energy flowing through you, as you forced him to see what you've seen.

Sharon left the building with a smile on her face, radiating confidence. Pulling out her phone she dialed a number, slowly walking further down the steps.

"Start lining up our buyers." she spoke into the phone, seemingly not caring enough to watch her surroundings for anyone listening. "Super Soldiers might be off the menu, but we're about to have full access to government secrets, prototype weapons, you name it. Should be something for everyone."

With that, she left, leaving you speechless.

With a gasp, you let go of Sam's mind, rapidly blinking to get the dry feeling out of your eyes.

Sam stared onto the table, swallowing. His hands trembled slightly, whilst Bucky grew impatient.

"Can I see?" he wanted to know, eagerly leaning forward in his seat. It made you chuckle, despite the dread in your stomach.

Letting Bucky enter your mind, was something different.

You weren't able to control your powers a hundred percent, which would be a risk, when letting someone in. There could be emotions or flashes of memories that could seep through, something you didn't want.

Especially not with him.

You had been in love with him for a while now, but never dared to make a move on it. Not, when he was so far out of your league.

Swallowing, you nodded hesitantly.

Locking eyes with Bucky's blue ones, you let your power come to life again, heart pounding faster.

You showed him the same thing you showed Sam, trying your hardest to concentrate only on the memory of Sharon, nothing else.

Slipping back out of it, you blinked rapidly, whilst Bucky sat frozen in his chair.

Shaking your head, you felt it deep in your chest, slowly making its way up - luckily for you, you had cut the connection already.

It was a memory you cherished deep in your heart, one of your favorites. It was Bucky, smiling happily.

Most of the time his smile didn't reach his eyes, not like it should have. He wasn't as carefree, at least not until he teamed up with Sam.

He was lying on the sofa in Sarah's house, Sam's sister. The kids had been playing with the shield, whilst Bucky was still sleeping on the couch.

You had been sitting at the small coffee table, able to see him, but he wouldn't see you at first glance.

When he woke up, softly calling out to the kids with a smile and a peace, they panicked, putting the shield back into its bag.

It had you smiling into your mug, quietly chuckling, as you sipped your coffee.

His smile was real, beautiful and rare. His eyes sparkled with joy, sunlight catching in them, highlighting the blue of his iris, as he leaned back into the cushions.

It showed the Bucky he was back in the forties, slowly peeling away layer after layer of his hardened shell.

Closing your eyes, you willed the memory away, slowly shaking your head, to get rid of it.

When your eyes opened again, looking back up at Bucky and Sam, Bucky's eyes were glued to your face.

His brows were furrowed, deep in thought. His mouth opened the slightest bit, but it closed again, like a fish.

Your own eyes widened the slightest bit, belly churning, as you realized.

The faint line connecting your minds - it was still there.

Your breathing fastened, fist clenching, as you looked at Sam, trying to come up with something to pull him into a conversation - but your mind was as blank as a wall.

Seriously, now you were able to think of nothing?

Your hands began to sweat, as you tried your hardest not to burst into tears. It was exactly what you had feared to happen, not being able to control it.

Mostly the reason you never really let Bucky enter your mind, fearing what he might find.

"Do you think-" Sam started, but cut himself off with a shake of his head. "That she's the power broker?" you returned, eager to flee into this conversation, but it was over just as fast as it had begun. "Yeah."

Bucky didn't say anything, eyes fixed on his hands that were seated in his lap.

Sam sighed, one hand swiping over his face. He was tired, you could tell. Being the new Captain America wasn't easy.

"Excuse me." you mumbled, standing up, before heading out of the room and towards the bathroom, where you locked yourself in.

You choked on a breath, fighting the tears, but soon losing. How could you be so careless? You should have known it wouldn't end well, letting him enter your mind.

But it would have been suspicious not to show him, either.

You could only hope you'd get out of this unscathed.

_____

Sam cleared his throat in discomfort, fist clenching on the table.

If he hadn't known your memories were true, he would have brushed it off with a laugh. He'd worked with Sharon before, and she never seemed like someone who would turn on her own people.

How long, til she would turn on them?

Eyes lifting, they met the side of Bucky's face. He was quiet, more than usual.

"How can she do this to us, after all we went through?" Sam asked in a mumble, ripping Bucky from his thoughts with a "Huh?".

Brows furrowing, Sam tried to analyze the man he didn't want to call friend, even though he'd become exactly that over the past few weeks.

"What's up with you?" he asked, frown deepening. Sure, Bucky had his moments where his thoughts drifted off, but not like this.

Not when you just basically fled a minute ago.

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "I don't know." he gave back, forehead wrinkling in thought.

Hell, if he could only make sense of what he'd seen.

"What happened?" Sam dug deeper, having noticed how long you two had been silent when showing him what you'd seen.

It took longer than he thought needed to.

Bucky wiped over his face.

It was like he switched bodies with you when that memory of yours slipped through. He could feel everything.

Every little emotion.

"I-" Bucky was searching for the right words as he suddenly stood. "Excuse me."

He followed into the direction you'd taken off to, causing Sam to frown even more.

He stopped in front of the bathroom door, softly knocking before the courage could have left him.

"Y/N?" he called out, heart beating unsteady. "Can we please talk?"

You flinched, perched on the toilet seat as you desperately wiped at your face. "Why?" you called out, giving your very best to sound neutral.

You could hear him hesitate, the little sounds that left his mouth that he himself didn't even notice. "Please?" he then just asked, fingers drumming on the door.

You hesitated as well, not sure if you should open the door to face your imminent death of shame.

With a heavy sigh you got up, though, shaky fingers fumbling for the lock, taking a moment longer to unlock it before it was pushed open by Bucky merging into the small bathroom, cramping the space even more.

You stumbled back, colliding with the sink.

"What was that?" Bucky wanted to know, eyes on yours, searching them for anything that gave him an answer. "What?" you gave back, deciding to act dumb.

Maybe he wouldn't notice.

Of course he would, you idiot.

His brows furrowed, a look of confusion and bewilderment crossing his features. "You know exactly what I mean, don't play dumb now, Y/N!" he shot back, not amused.

See?

Told you so.

You swallowed the lump that somehow didn't want to budge, blocking your airways. "I- I don't know." you stuttered out, mentally cursing yourself for being so reckless to let him enter your mind in the first place.

Bucky frowned even more, not sure whether to believe you or not. After all he had felt it, not sure if he really wanted to know, though.

He didn't dare to hope.

You inhaled shakily, trying to force your heart rate down, to calm yourself a little.

Easier said than done.

"Are you sure you don't know?" Bucky pressed, voice tinged with something you couldn't place. "Because I'm sure I didn't imagine what I've seen or felt."

You flinched at that.

He knew, he knew for fucks sake, and there was no way you could have made him believe that it was nothing.

To be fair, you wouldn't have believed yourself, either.

No one would feel immense happiness, content, and warmth just because of a person they saw as a friend.

Come on.

You swallowed, averting your gaze. There was no backing out now, not when Bucky literally blocked the exit with his presence and muscular body.

"You- you felt it." you mumbled, biting your cheek as your cheeks warmed up slightly, gaze glued to the floor.

Bucky huffed, searching for words for a moment. How was he to explain what he felt?

"It- it was like I was back in the forties." he began, licking his lips. "I felt content, happy. And then I saw this... this memory of yours from me. I didn't know you were there, I didn't see you. What does this mean?"

He sounded desperate, and you didn't know whether it was because he didn't want your feelings for him or if it was the exact opposite.

Your name fell from his parted lips when you didn't answer, and had you looked up into his cerulean eyes, you'd seen the desperation, too.

"I can't tell you." you eventually mumbled, biting your cheek raw. "What? Why?" Bucky gave back, eyes widening before he frowned. "Y/N, what does this mean? Please, tell me!"

You looked up at him, your own brows furrowed in a frown.

Why did he want to know so badly?

"You know what it means." you gave back, doing your best not to avoid his gaze this time. His lips parted a fraction before he shook his head. "No." he said. "I want you to say it."

You heart stumbled once more, threatening to burst from the pace it was going at.

Did he want to have something to laugh about? Did he want to make a fool of you?

Swallowing, you shook your head. "No." you breathed out. "I can't."

His gaze hardened slightly, blue irises growing darker. "Say it." he repeated himself, not going to back down.

He'd rather go back to HYDRA than let this opportunity, this chance pass.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head again. But before you had the chance to decline once more, he said it again, this time louder. "Say it!"

"I have feelings for you!" you blurted out loudly, his agitation causing you to crack and slip up.

Suddenly, the room grew eerily silent, the ringing in your ears blocking out his harsh breathing. His heart was racing way too fast for a man his age, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

He had hoped to hear these words, after all they were the only logical explanation, yet he was speechless. Didn't know how to react.

It's never like it is in your dreams.

Especially not when a dream suddenly comes true.

You shrinked back mentally and physically, his lack of response unsettling. It made you more nervous than you already were, hands sweating as you desperately tried to keep your shit together.

Why didn't he say anything?

When you wanted to push past him, and out of the small bathroom, his metal hand wrapped around your wrist. Your sudden movement had broken him out of his stupor, and he simply couldn't just let you go.

Before you knew it, he had tugged you back in front of him, his lips pressing against yours in a searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, it was hard and rushed, as he tried to somehow tell you what his vocal cords weren't able to at the moment.

You gasped for air, not prepared for being hauled back and kissed breathless like that.

Bucky greedily took the invitation that wasn't one, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring it before it tangled with yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his own around your waist as he tugged you closer.

You tasted sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted in his life.

Gasping for breath he let go of your mouth, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Don't go." he breathed out shakily, arms wrapping tighter around you like he was scared you'd suddenly vanish if he let go. "Please. There's so much I need to tell you. So please, don't go. I need you, Y/N."

You watched his lashes flutter as he inhaled shakily before his eyes opened. His words had your heart beating faster again, leaving you wanting more.

"What? B-Bucky-" you started, confused because you were so sure he'd reject you.

"No." he cut you off, holding your face in his hands. "I love you."

There it was, out in the open. His most vulnerable moment since HYDRA and he delved into it headfirst. "You have no clue how much I love you, how much these words and these... glimpses mean to me, doll."

You inhaled shakily, every emotion rushing through you at once.

"I just never thought you'd feel the same, deem me worthy of someone as angelic as you."

Your heart ached at his self-deprecating words.

"Bucky," you breathed out his name, shaking your head in his grip. "You're far more worthy than you think you are. You deserve everything good and more."

He grimaced slightly, still not used to being a normal human again. "That's an argument for another time." he said, sending you a crooked smile.

He didn't want to fight right now, not when he much rather wanted to pepper your skin with kisses. And that he did. He kissed everywhere he reached, ignoring your giggles of protest before his lips met yours, silencing you.

It was a feeling that quickly got you addicted.

After a few moments, you broke the kiss, and he placed your head on his chest, inahling your familiar scent.

"Was it intenional?" Bucky wanted to know after a few moments of savoring your warmth, arms circled around you.

It felt really good to hold you like that.

You grimaced slightly. "No, of course not." you gave back. "I can't always control it. Besides, I never thought you'd want me."

"Why?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice as he pulled back slightly to look down at you. "Because I'm weird." you explained, blushing as you averted your gaze. Bucky huffed, using his finger to tilt your chin back up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Baby, weird is my second name." he gave back softly. "Maybe I need a little extra weird."

You wanted to respond something, how you would love to be his extra portion weird, as it suddenly knocked on the door loudly.

"Hurry up, I need to pee!"

Tag List:

@ava @sapphirebarnes @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @queenslandlover-93 @judig92

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #marvel imagine #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #winter solider x reader

694 notes · View notes

bubblegumgothglados · 2 months ago

Text

This is my RACK focused judgment free primer for heavy impact play. It covers every part of the body from head to toe and at no point does it say you can’t do something just the risks of doing so. I don't normally put warnings on my posts but most of my writing is fantasy, this isn't. I'm going to talk about any number of painful deaths and heaps more ways of becoming disabled.

In this primer "you" means the one doing the hitting, "victim" is the one being hit, and "tool" is the thing you're hitting with which could be a fist, foot, hammer, bat, anything. I'm writing it this way because its fun for me.

This primer also assumes you know the different types of impacts and how they affect the body, if you don't go look at my other writings.

Finally i take no responsibility for anything you do. All this information is what i could put together from medical journals and car crash reports if I've got anything wrong (and you can prove it) please let me know.

Enjoy

Head. With hits to the head, the two major concerns are concussions and neck injuries. A concussion occurs when a person’s brain impacts with the inside of their skull, this happens because the brain is suspended in fluid so if the skull stops or starts moving suddenly the brain will move out of sync with the skull. Symptoms of concussions can include headaches, confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in the ears, sleepiness, and excessive fatigue. If your victim lost consciousness for any length of time and is having trouble speaking or understanding your words, you need to get them to the ER. There is no cure for a concussion but the best treatment is pain medication and activities that won’t tax the brain to give it time to recover. There are any number of ways to damage a neck, but generally it happens when a person’s neck is moved suddenly and violently or pushed past its limit. Minor injuries should heal by themselves within a few weeks but if unlucky pain and stiffness can last months or even years. For more major injuries, physical therapy or a neck brace might be necessary but only if the pain lasts longer than a few weeks. It’s also possible to hit someone hard enough to break their neck or fracture their skull but that takes a lot of force. All of these injuries can be avoided by supporting your victim’s head and neck by bracing their head against a surface or holding their head with your hand.

Jaw. It takes surprisingly little force to dislocate a jaw, you can do so with a good slap Dislocations are talked about in Note 3 at the bottom of this primer. Heavy bleeding from gums or a tooth that feels loose could indicate a fractured root. This is a fairly minor issue and if you see a dentist quickly they should be able to fix it back in place with no lasting damage. A tooth that has been knocked out completely should survive; get your victim to rinse their mouth out and rinse the tooth off and shove it back into the gap, and then have them see a dentist to make sure it’s properly seated and avoid chewing with it for a while.

Eyes. A fun combination of fragile and complicated. There's no first aid tips I can give you and it'll be real obvious if something is wrong. I will say you don't have to hit someones eye to give them a black eye, it’s bruising around the eye socket that matters. Also check Note 1 about the use of ice when treating injuries.

Nose. It’s more difficult than you think to break a nose. You definitely can with a good punch but you'll have to really commit. A broken nose isn't that serious (I've broken mine twice now) and isn't even ER worthy. If your victim is leaning backwards after breaking their nose the blood will run down the back of their throat potentially making them vomit or very sick. There is a chance a broken nose will heal in a way that restricts breathing in which case your victim may need surgery.

Cheek bone. Below the temple but above the gum line, running from just bellow their ear to their nose. Special mention to this spot because it’s the best place to hit your victim in the head (in my opinion). This piece of bone is very sturdy and not that risky to fracture. Plus, when you hit them here they have to watch it coming.

Neck. The windpipe, jugular, cranial nerves, vagus nerve, carotid arteries, and spine all live here and damage to any of these can cause permanent disability or death. Seek medical attention if your victim has trouble breathing or swallowing, or a lot of pain or swelling. Stingy tools are far less risky here than thuddy tools.

Shoulders. Note 2 on joints. The shoulder blades can either be an ideal impact location or one of the most risky depending on how it’s sitting. If the shoulder blade is jutting out away from the rest of the back, it’s very easy to damage If it’s laying flat against the back, it’s protected by a thick layer of fat and muscle.

Biceps. Top 4 impact location. The main concern is damaging the elbow and shoulder joints, if hitting in a way that will pull on those joints. Much like with the head, bracing the impact area against a surface will minimize the risk. Repeated hits to this area can temporarily disable the arm, which is fun.

Forearm. As above, the main risk is damaging the adjoining joints. There are also several important blood vessels and nerves running through this area and not a lot of fat an muscle to protect them.

Hands. Very little fat or muscle, mostly tendons, nerves, and cartilage. See Note 2 on joints. Special note to the palm, which hurts like hell but is relatively safe because of the extra muscle and fat in that area, great for punishment. Once again, stingy tools are much less risky than thuddy tools.

Breasts/ biceps. Top 4 impact locations. Thick layers of fat, muscle, and bone protect anything vital.

Sternum. That is the bone running down the center of a person’s chest that connects to their ribs. Not in itself very fragile but the cartilage that connects it to the ribs is easily damaged and will take a long time to heal. A fractured sternum will likely cause shortness of breath and pain when taking deep breaths. There's not much to be done about these injuries just rest and avoiding strenuous activity.

Spine. The single most risky impact location. Any damage to the spine risks permanent paralysis of everything below that point. As ever, stingy tools present less risk than thuddy tools.

Rib cage. Designed to protect a person’s most vital organs, the rib cage is very strong. Fractured ribs will cause pain breathing but aren't particularly serious. Snapped ribs can pierce organs If this happens, it'll be immediately obvious and medical intervention is required to prevent painful death. Special note to the 'floating' ribs at the bottom of a persons rib cage which don't connect to the sternum and are therefore much less resilient. Second special note to the spot right above a persons heart. A significantly hard impact at exactly the wrong moment in their cardiac cycle can stop their heart. They will loose consciousness and you will need to give them CPR until they can be defibrillated. This is ridiculously unlikely but better to mention just in case.

Abdomen. If you feel around your victim’s belly, you can figure out the line where their abdominal muscles sit. If you have them tense these muscles, you can hit them fairly hard with relatively little risk because the muscles plus the fat in that area create a thick layer of protection. (Pro tip: "Stay tense or this will might kill you" is not only true but hot and terrifying). Outside of that area or if they don't tense, there's real risk of bruising or even rupturing their intestines, which carries a 50-70% survival rate depending on how quickly you can get them to the ER. Symptoms to look out for are bloating, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and fatigue. Special note to the kidneys, which sit next to the backbone just below the rib cage and are very easily bruised. The primary symptom to look for is blood when peeing. As always, stingy tools carry less risk than thuddy tools.

Gluteus maximus. That's their butt. Hit it as hard as your victim will let you. Enough has been said about this region; I don't feel the need to recover that ground. Note 4 on bruises.

Genitals. I'm not going to get into CBT, that's a separate kink. But the vagina is very durable as it’s pretty much just flesh and fat on the outside Minimal risk, go to town.

Thigh. Top 4 impact location. Outer thigh will hurt more and bruise more. As with the head and arms, the primary risk is damaging the adjoining joints. Note 4 on bruises because this is the primary place for DVT.

Calf. As above. Shins are also a great location for punishment because they hurt like hell.

Feet. Very similar to hands. The soles of a person’s foot are intended to impact with the ground frequently and with some force, so they can take a fair bit of punishment.

Note 1. Ice. It is no longer suggested injury procedure to use ice to reduce swelling. Yes, it is effective at reducing swelling but we now understand swelling is an important part of the healing process and although ice might make it feel and look better in the short term, it actually increases the amount of time the injury will take to heal. You want the blood to be able to flow to the injury to take away dead cells and bring nutrients and energy.

Note 2. Joints. Neck, spine, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, and toes. The reason these are almost always labeled "red" or "no go" on impact play body maps is because these are choke points for blood vessels and nerves; they are made of fragile tendons and cartilage, and they have very little padding for protection. They're also important for movement day to day and very difficult to heal properly. If a joint is damaged, you can buy braces for every joint from most pharmacies.

Note 3. Dislocations. If you're lucky, a partial dislocation will relocate by itself if you move the joint around as you normally would, not forcing it or trying to manipulate it with your hand, just moving it with its own muscles. If it does naturally relocate but you still have pain a few weeks later seek a medical professional. If you're unlucky or if it’s a total dislocation, you will have to see a medical professional. DO NOT TRY TO FORCE IT BACK INTO PLACE!

Note 4. Bruises. Normally, bruises are nothing to worry about but there are situations where a deep bruise can be a health concern. If the bruise continues to get worse after a week, there could be a hematoma under the skin, which is like a blood clot, and might need to be removed. The other possible complication is Deep Vein Thrombosis, which is a blood clot and can be lethal, if not treated quickly. With DVT, the symptoms are tenderness, warmth, and a "pulling sensation" which are pretty normal impact play symptoms. But if you're doing impact play at the level that could cause DVT, then you and your victim should know their healing process intimately, so if something feels off or isn't healing right, get them to a medical professional; better safe than dead.

#lessons in kink

706 notes · View notes

xomakara · 28 days ago

Note

what do you think about brat!reader that has a fixtation on pulling jaehyuns hair during sex but since he enlisted, brat!reader couldn’t do it because of his short hair and has been bugging him about it through the phone whenever he calls to check in on her and when he comes back home during his break, brat!reader is still pissed about it but jaehyun is in a loving way annoyed with her brattiness and puts her in her place ( if you don’t mind could you write something along the lines of this too 🤗🤗🤗)

Completely Yours

SUMMARY | Jaehyun gives you unconditional love before he enlists.

PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE | husband!Jaehyun, soon-to-be-dad!Jaehyun, smut, established relationship

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, oral sex (female receiving/male giving), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration

LENGTH | 3,543 words

TAGLIST | —

NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi anon, I know it's not exactly what you requested but I did include a hair-tugging kink in there lol. I hope you still like it regardless. I finally managed to finish this and sure, it's not as long as the other Jaehyun fics I've written, I still hope you all like it. My brain has not been braining for this fic and it has drove me crazy but I really wanted to get this posted before Jae enlisted. I also want to thank @caelesjjk for the gorgeous banner! Please reblog, like, comment, I love you all and I'm gonna miss Jaehyun for the next 18 months. 💚

"Come here, babe," Jaehyun's deep voice is sweet like honey. He's sitting up in bed, blankets over his bottom half and propped up against the headboard, relaxed. His fingers are crooked, signaling you over. "I wanna do somethin'."

There's a devilish curve to his lips, hinting at some mischief. With how hot and cold he's been this last week—all touchy one moment, ignoring you the next—it makes you hesitate in walking over. You eye him warily, watching him coo at you. "What's gotten into you? What do you want, exactly?"

"Just want my wife," Jaehyun replies.

You crawl your way between his legs, knees planted on either side of his thighs. "I'm still mad at you. I hope you know that."

"Still?" His hands fit themselves at your waist perfectly. A kiss finds itself placed right below your ear. Another at your jaw, then to the side of your nose. "Baby, it's only the military. You know I have to go. I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough," your tone is accusatory and petulant; he's aware of this as his fingers dance against the fabric of your silk slip nightgown, stopping just as the hemline hits the junction between your inner thigh and hip. You frown, running your hand through his now short hair. "I miss the longer hair already."

"Gonna miss tugging on it during sex, is that it?" he snorts, blowing raspberries into your neck as he squeezes the globes of your ass with his big hands. You jolt up in response, barely able to smother out the surprised noise from your mouth.

"Y-yeah! I like when it's long...and I get to yank on it and make you make pretty noises. No more stupid buzzcut," you groan, doing your best not to think about what you were going to be without for a whole two years.

"Taeyong's girlfriend didn't complain when he cut his hair," Jaehyun chuckled deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest. "It'll grow back real quick and then I can go back to giving you head while you hold it and tug on it however you like."

“That’s Taeyong’s girlfriend,” you whined. "But you promise, Jae?"

"I promise," Jaehyun bites into the joint between your shoulder and neck and then soothes over it with his warm tongue. He hums, "Time will go by so fast. And, anyway..." his lips are brushing against yours. He still looks so good with the short hair. So handsome when he smiles. His words are full of sureness as he caresses your belly, "you have a piece of me already."

Your heart squeezes at this because he's right. Inside of you, there is already a small fragment of him living and growing, something physical for you to always cherish. "How did you find out?"

His arms wrap around you, snug and warm. Your lips mold against his and he's drinking you in. "I found the test when I was getting the emergency kit before we left for our trip. Why didn't you tell me, baby?"

"I don't know. I… I was nervous. Not about having a baby with you. I'm afraid of...afraid of being by myself without you," the grip around you grows tighter at your confession. "How can I get through the next 18 months without you? Who is going to help me when I get fat and angry with hormones?" You laugh, watery at the sudden sting of tears brimming behind your eyes. The words start to flood past your lips now that you've confessed. "Who will hold my hair back for me when I barf, or massage my aching feet at the end of a long day?"

"I'm always a phone call away, baby. All you have to do is reach out," he hugs you tighter, pressing his lips against the side of your throat. "The guys are always here too, Taeyong's girlfriend and our family. Don't feel like you have to go through any of this alone."

"Promise me you'll call every day? After your shifts? Come home during your breaks?" your hands fidget against his shoulders as they dip beneath your slip, gripping at his bare waist, eager for him. His hips buck into the air a little. You're breathless. "Please?"

"Whatever you want," there's a tentative motion as he strokes a line up your spine. His hands cup your cheeks. "I'll give you everything."

With the tip of his tongue, he nudges your lips apart and slips past. Jaehyun deepens the kiss by nibbling the corner of your lip, slipping into your mouth as you gasp at his little bites, swallowing his moans when you wiggle around in his lap, grinding down slowly.

One thing you and him do very well is kissing. You used to kiss until your mouths would begin to tingle with numbness and you'd have to separate to catch a breath before diving right back in.

Jaehyun tastes the same. His kisses are addictive, hot and demanding like the man himself. "Let me love you in the meantime. Let me spoil my gorgeous wife until the second I leave."

"Jaehyun, the guys are outside," your husband hasn't kept his hands to himself, palms drifting lower to hold the swell of your ass as you attempt to sit up and off him. But the man isn't having it.

"I'm sure the guys are all at the lake or goofing off somewhere," Jaehyun muttered, his lips dragging down the line of your throat to leave marks as he pleases.

"Can't believe you invited the guys on our trip...ah," your complaints weaken out as he gently teases your nipples through the fabric of the slip, touching the wet bud of the other until you start to squirm. "Ah! Babe, knock it off," you squeak, glancing at the door. Your knees tighten their grip at his sides.

"Can't help myself. Got a hot, pregnant wife sittin' on me," it's meant to be a joke but all it does is send your mind on an out-of-control tangent. His eyes drop. "Now, are you going to take care of the problem, or will I need to do it myself?"

"Not my problem that you popped a boner," a squeal of surprise passes from you when he rolls you onto your back, switching your position easily. There's something hungry, unbridled and impatient in Jaehyun's eyes as he regards you. You flush at his heavy gaze and spread your legs so he can nestle further between your thighs. "Jae."

"What does my sweet, gorgeous wife want?" his thumbs slide across your nipples as he takes a deep breath.

"I...fuck, Jae," you huff and grind up against his crotch. Your throat feels like it's tightening. Heat pools in your tummy as the flush moves further down, towards your tits, neck. "I want your mouth."

"Good thing I'm hungry, too,” he smirks.

"Jaehyun," you snap at his teasing, arching when he pulls down the straps and slides the nightgown down your frame.

"Can't wait to taste you," the bottom hem goes as far as your middle before bunching. A bite to your nipple has you whining, trying to muffle the noises by biting the knuckle of your thumb. "Lift yourself up a little so I can get this out of my way."

Your panties join the crumple on the floor. Then, you spread your legs so that one wraps itself around his shoulder while the other is lifted up and set in the crook of his elbow. His hands lay flat on your belly, right above your pelvis. He nips and kisses all the soft, unmarred skin that he's familiar with. Your heart begins to flutter, making you tingle down below.

"I can't believe that I'll miss you being all round with my baby," Jaehyun murmurs against your stomach. Your body aches for him as the days he has to leave start to come close. There's still time, but that won't matter soon when the separation will set in.

"At least you'll be home during your breaks," you gulp and your head dips back. A light kiss is placed directly on your clit. "That'll make me feel a little better. We'll see you and you'll spoil the hell out of me with your undying love and affection."

"Exactly. The time will be fast, so let me enjoy the moments I still have with you," Jaehyun slides your labia apart and licks a broad strip from your clit to your core. "Mhm. So damn perfect, it tastes good, too."

You squeeze his arm tightly and gasp, his breath is hot and making your whole body tingle with sensitivity as you writhe against the sheets, and he takes this as a signal to keep eating you out.

The long length of his tongue darts inside your cunt as he swirls the tip over the sides. He goes deeper, spreading you wider for his convenience and flicks at a sensitive part that has your legs tensing. He watches, with pleasure, how you shiver when he curls his tongue upward. Then, he presses right under your hood, applying a relentless pressure to the aching spot that has you trembling. The muffled and delicious gasps and whines of ecstasy are music to his ears, as are the satisfied moans you make every now and then when his lips engulf your clit, the vibrations that shudder through the sensitive organ adding to the intensity.

His hand continued to caress your belly. The reminder that a life was slowly forming in you both warms him and makes his throat clench at the same time. He will miss it. Miss your swollen belly, your changing figure, your shifting moods, and cravings, and how his little spitfire will get all hormonal on him.

Jaehyun retracts the point of his tongue from inside and replaces it with two of his fingers. A continuous stream of arousal slips from his digits when he sinks in. He thumbs the side of your engorged clitoris as he pushes into you as slow as his body would allow. There were times he wasn't willing to take it slow, was almost rough, but now was not one of them. He only wanted to hear you fall apart before his departure and milk it for all it's worth.

Fingers moving expertly in you, he moves up to kiss your breast, taking the other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swipes across the protruding nub in a circular motion, pinning the pebble with the point, as his other hand continues to stroke you in perfect harmony. Jaehyun pinches your nipple, lashing the hard, reddening, little peak until you moan at him, back arching and your knees knocking his shoulders.

"What else do you want, my love?" Jaehyun breathes, curling his fingers. "Tell me."

"Jae," you breathed out.

“Tell me, babe. Come on, use that pretty voice of yours,” Jaehyun coaxed.

“Inside!” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

"Inside? Yeah?" he murmurs. He laps a bead of your cream from the corner of his lips. Aroused, your nipples stand firm as he thumbs them again.

"Put your cock in me," your nails drag a line over his shoulder. "Make love to me."

"Damn, my baby's so impatient," the tone in his voice, all rugged and husky from not saying a word until now, goes straight to the center of your core. The slight quaking that makes itself present in his legs goes unseen to you.

Jaehyun captures you with a brief yet searing kiss. You hum with delight, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding on as he presses his lips to yours. You nudge his nose with the side of yours, offering a smile when he looks into your eyes. The moment lingers for several seconds with him observing you as you catch your breath.

"Tell me," Jaehyun touches his forehead to your collarbone, nuzzling his head on your skin as he feels your pussy constrict around him. He flips his head and kisses where your shoulder meets the collar. "Tell me how you want it."

"Love me, babe. Please," you whisper, eyes meeting him. The head of his cock pushes into you just enough for him to rock deeper in and stretch you slowly. He drags his length through your swollen pussy, slipping in and out to coax himself hard again and again, always returning to his place inside of you, opening and filling your throbbing heat, molding your softness and wetness around his hard cock.

A ragged exhale leaves his lungs as Jaehyun runs his hand down the outside of your leg, clutching your ankle in order to wrap around him. You wiggle against his torso and then rest your leg higher up along the center of his back, knee nudging his tail bone, wanting him deeper inside of you, rolling your hips and chasing the high he knows that you desperately need. Jaehyun rewards you for it by sliding in more, up to the root.

"Oh, shit!" you curse and tighten around him.

He's silent; he loves having sex with you, but there is no room to talk when all you can hear are the squelch of his thrusts and the rickety noise made when his cock enters your throbbing sex and his heavy grunts.

"Almost there?" Jaehyun is quite close, breathing heavily as his skin starts to shimmer in the sunlight.

He pushes inside of you until his hips knock your own. He circles his pelvis, massaging your clit with his dick. The pressure on the swollen nub has you whimpering, struggling to meet his movements until it starts to sting and ache from the constant stimulation and you begin to move away, but he stops the motion with one of his big hands splayed on your hip and holds you steady.

“Jae!” you cried out.

"Hm. Is this what you want? You want this?" he groans, rocking his hips, punctuating the word with another nudge of his cock against you.

A yes bubbles from you, the word leaving your mouth followed by the most desperate moan when the swollen glands hit just the right spot. The ridges on his pelvic bone brush along the top of your slit and bump your clit each time his hips rut forward. The thickness of his penis is evident as he repeatedly pushes and pushes until you take every inch inside.

"Gonna cum?" the man mutters in his most raspiest tone. "It's okay to cum," he grunts, pounding into you harder than before. "Gonna love you the entire time...even if it takes me all night."

You sob with delight as a flash of electricity moves from your pelvis to the very top of your scalp. It was white behind your closed eyes as a shattering pleasure moved down the middle of you. "Ah! Shit. Oh, Jaehyun!"

A single moan escapes his parted lips, sounding strangled and wrecked, before Jaehyun catches and swallows it. He moans it deep into your mouth with one last hard shove, the final shove of his cock. You feel the burst and heat spreading inside. He makes a beautiful face, gasping with the sensation that overtakes him and you catch his orgasm just in time. It's euphoria the way his expression, eyebrows upturned, lips slightly opened. He moans out a gasp and throws his head back, full and handsome, before tipping his chin and pressing his forehead against yours.

You touch his jawline lightly with a fingertip and he opens his eyes to look into yours, finding those crinkles in the corners. The sweat is coating his skin and you admire the red that paints his cheeks and lips. You reach up and run a gentle hand over the skin there, down his chest, before finally letting it settle over his rapidly thumping heartbeat.

"You've made me a complete mess," you huff out with laughter, full of warmth. The light-hearted sound makes a smile appear on Jaehyun's face.

“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun chuckled, “I plan on fixing it for you in a minute. Think you can handle another round?”

"Definitely."

Some months later

"Look at my little princess getting all big," Jaehyun cooed from the tablet screen in your hands. "Daddy can't wait to be home."

"Oh, you care more about your daughter than your wife now, huh?" you situate the phone on the phone stand so that you could bounce the baby in your lap, wiping her chin after the last of her suckling your breast. It was close to time for her to nap, the lightness in the tone of her fussing notifying you.

"I love both my girls. I can't wait to see you both," he mutters, his gaze softening at the two of you.

"We both miss you," you coo, standing to pace about the room with the infant at your chest. There was no stopping the fond look that passed onto your face. He'd been a daddy for three months, was lucky to be there for your labor, and held his beautiful baby girl for the first time in the delivery room. From that moment, your heart had never been fuller. "Here, honey, say hi to daddy."

The phone was in position so the small baby girl could be seen in your arms, waving at the camera with her fist.

"That's daddy, yeah, that's him! That's daddy," you whispered sweetly, resting a kiss on the downy hair atop her tiny head as she babbled. "Say 'hi!'"

"Daddy will be home soon in a few hours," he says, his free hand raising in a wave to the phone. "Then, daddy can hug and kiss his little princess for real. All good in the nursery? Do I need to bring anything home with me?"

"No, the room is finally fully finished, thanks to the family and the guys. No toys needed, no blankets or clothes," you beam. "But... you can pick up her a few diapers."

You continue on walking the baby around until she begins to doze off, arms twitching in her sleep, her head laying on your chest, fuzzing and twitching like a kitten. A wide grin spread across the man's face, warm and genuine at the sight, feeling like something within his chest had been suddenly twisted in a pleasing way.

"Only a few more months and I'll officially be home, my love. Then we'll be together, our whole little family. My whole world," he smiled, making silly faces through the tablet. "Babe, I gotta get going now. Johnny is almost here to pick me up."

“Hurry home, fast,” you urge.

“As fast as Johnny can drive,” Jaehyun calls as a goodbye and winks at you.

“Oh god. That might get you home quicker, but I am begging you,” you plead, “Don't let him speed.”

"No promises!" he calls as a goodbye and winks at you.

With that, the call is done and you situate the baby on the playmat, turning on a baby video with music as she snoozes away. You sit, with legs curled under you, waiting for his arrival.

Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, half an hour and still no Jaehyun. He should've been back by now.

After a couple more minutes, the door unlocks and you look over to the door, your husband comes barreling through as quick as his legs will allow. "Jaehyun!"

His feet carry him in an instant, catching your jaw gently, cupping it before dragging the pad of his thumb over your cheek with a love-sick and tired smile gracing his features.

"I'm home," he whispers softly, lifting you up in a bear-like hug and carrying you the short distance to the sofa before setting you in his lap. "God, how have you been, sweetheart? How's my baby girl?"

"Good and asleep. Tuckered herself out today, too," you lean over him, peering over the back to spot the infant sleeping. "We're both really glad you're finally home."

You breathe out, laying a loving kiss against his brow. "How long is this break? Do I get to keep you to myself for longer than a day this time?"

"This time is a week," he grinned and hugged you closer, hands going up and down the span of your back. "Just a week. You can keep me to yourself for a week. Plus my hair is a bit longer now for you to pull..." he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and making you swat at his broad chest.

"Quit! The baby is sleeping," you chide him. But, Jaehyun was quick to make up for his lack of brain cells by leaving open-mouthed, lingering kisses over your neck, not holding back while nipping gently here and there. Your breathless hush becomes a broken groan.

"Did I ever tell you," his voice dropped, turning rough, as he grazed his teeth over the shell of your ear. His smile was wicked and inviting. He'd never looked as handsome as in this moment to you. "I love you so, so much?"

You clear your throat with a chuff, fight a shiver, and narrow your eyes at your husband. "Many times, but remind me once again."

Jaehyun looks you in the eyes, giving your buttocks a hearty squeeze. "Let me prove it, instead."

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct stories #nct fanfics #nct imagines #nct smut #Jeong Jaehyun #Jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader

540 notes · View notes