#Natalie: ‘Yeah it’s because he’s hot’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yellowharrington · 2 months

Text

sugar sweet -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: brief mention of body image issues (not towards reader) and suicide (mikey's death), eating dessert and a lot of food talk, gn!reader (but mention of wearing heels), use of y/n briefly in texts. reader is mentioned as an accountant or adjacent professional person and smoking is mentioned (reader and carmy). please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: hey team !! i hope y'all enjoy this fluffy little blorbo about carmy's birthday bc i needed to write about being soft to him. this is an old wip i finally finished so pls rb and leave feedback and comments ily

summary: it's carmy's birthday and you want to make it special for him again.

-`♡´-

It’s not that Carmy doesn’t like his birthday.

No, it’s not that.

It’s just that he’s never had a good one.

When he was 9, his mom tried to make him a birthday cake. French vanilla, with buttercream icing, multicoloured sprinkles on top. But she had somehow managed to get so frustrated that she had thrown the whisk across the kitchen, the burnt cake thrown in the sink, and taken to the backyard for her millionth cigarette of the day. She was breaking down, as usual, and Carmy was the one that had to go out and rub her back and tell her it was fine. That he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday.

When he was 13, he ended up spending the afternoon consoling Natalie in her bedroom, after his mom had again, made a backhanded comment about her body. That yeah, she’d gained weight in her midsection, and yeah, the stress was showing on her hips. She was sobbing into her pillows, clutching her pink sheets and wailing, leaving Carmy with nothing to do but kiss her on the cheek and leave her alone. He assured her, again, that he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday.

And when he’s 24 and scrubbing the floors of The Beef at midnight, sweat dripping down his forehead and into the collar of his shirt. Michael had just died, so yeah, it was a little raw. The fluorescent lights were beating down on his back as he dumped hot soapy water on the floor and scrubbed everything away. Scrubbed away his memories, every Christmas with his brother, every screaming match. He let it all go down the drain. He’s assured himself that he’s fine, he didn’t matter, and no, Michael’s fucking suicide would not ruin his birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

He meets you later that year. Sitting in the park, doing a crossword at 7:00am, your BEC and hot coffee cooling off on the bench beside you. You’re obviously a professional of some kind: tight black slacks and a matching blazer, white dress shirt stretched over your torso, hair pristinely styled. Black heels, he notices, that you’ll switch out in the middle of the day because they squeeze your toes.

When he sits beside you, you don’t pay him any mind. He’s disheveled, sandy curls pushed back on his head, a grey crewneck sweater over a white t-shirt, collar peaking through at the neck. He sets his identical breakfast next to yours, taking out a cigarette and slipping it between his lips. You look over when he flicks his lighter, a soft exhale leaving his nose. “Oh, sorry,” he takes the cigarette from his lips and wafts the smoke away. “I forgot not everyone in this city smokes.”

You smiled tightly, nodding, letting yourself relax onto the back of the bench. “I don’t mind.” He nodded back to you, letting his hand rest on his knee as he took another drag. “Anything worth reading in there today?” He gestures to the newspaper balanced on your knee. You look at him again, shrugging your shoulders, only to tap your pen against the side of your leg. “No, there never is. I just do the crosswords. You wouldn’t happen to know a 4 letter word for ‘kitchen second in command’, would you?”

He laughs a little, taking another slow drag. “Sous?” You look down at the newspaper, penning in the small boxes, sitting back to smile at him. “Thank you,” you raise your coffee cup to him. “‘m a chef, over at The Beef in River North,” he has a mouthful of his sandwich now, as he points in the general direction of the restaurant. “Oh, yeah, I think you guys catered one of our events one time. It’s like, sandwiches and stuff, right?” He nods, taking a sip of coffee. You follow after him, letting the hot coffee touch your lips.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I, uh, just took it over. It’s kind of a shit show right now but we’re tryna fix it.” You unwrap the sandwich and sink your teeth into the soft bagel, covering your mouth before beginning to speak. “What happened to the guy who used to own it? Did you just buy it off of him, or what?”

“He died,” he says, deadpan, letting the cigarette come between his lips again. “He was my brother and uh, yeah - he died.” You nod at your own embarrassment, at the thought of asking a random stranger about his dead brother by accident. “Oh, I didn’t-uh, God - sorry,” you stammer, letting yourself turn towards him. “It’s fine,” he waves the smoke away again. “It’s not a big deal.” You almost laugh at his demeanour, so nonchalant. You pull a cardholder out of your blazer pocket, the small clasp opening. Cream cardstock, black writing - a business card, handing it over to him, but not before scribbling your personal number on the back. “If you need anything, accounting related or otherwise, call me.” He takes it and looks for a second, raising his eyebrow at the pristine card. “I can’t afford you,” he laughs. “No charge. Thanks for the help on the crossword…” you wait expectantly for a name. “Oh, Carmen. Carmy,” he finishes. “Nice to meet you.”

��₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It had been a few months since your first meeting. Now, you chose to spend almost every Sunday with him - his one day off. He’d usually make you breakfast, sometimes an omelette with gouda cheese and chives, or fluffy pancakes with a berry compote and homemade whipped cream. For a man that cooked all day, every day, he certainly didn’t mind making any meals for you, especially when you woke up next to him in his old t-shirt and nothing underneath.

You’d known Carmy for long enough now to have pieced together the whole story - a few nights here and there coming around The Beef after closing had granted you the pleasure of meeting Richie, who Carmy affectionately called Cousin. “He’s a little fucked up,” Richie had told you behind the slightly ajar door of the office, as you sat and waited for Carm to finish up. “With Mikey and everything. He won’t let ‘ya know, but he is. I’m happy he’s got somebody,” he looks back at the kitchen, the usual pots and pans clanging behind him. “You didn’t hear it from me, but it’s his birthday on Sunday,” Richie gets closer to you, his hand coming closer. “Back up Richie,” “Sorry. Force of habit. Do not tell him I told you. Take it to your grave. He likes red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing like a little bitch boy, they’re his favourite, alright?” You nod, looking to see if he was anywhere near. “Heard.”

You catch Marcus on the way out while Carmy fucks with something else in the kitchen. “Hey, Marcus,” you grab his arm, right before he’s about to put a headphone in and start on his way home. “Hey, what’s good?” “I need a red velvet cake recipe. And a cream cheese icing recipe. And a walk through of how to bake a batch of cupcakes. Please.” He nodded slightly, looking down at his phone. “I’ll text you what I’ve got. Is it a special occasion?” You look over at Carmy, who was wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, uh, it is.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Marcus had let you borrow a few cupcake pans and a package of liners, as well as his KitchenAid stand mixer for the batter. You’d gathered all of the ingredients from the recipe he’d given you, set everything up in your tiny apartment kitchen on the Saturday before Carmy’s birthday, furiously mixing wets and drys in different bowls, sifting flour and separating egg whites from yolks. The cigarette was taught between your lips, tank top strap falling off your shoulder as you slowly began to mix the batter together.

[Carmen] 11:18pm

Hey

How are you baby?

Just finishing up here

You flicked the cigarette ash onto the fire escape as you nodded your head in rhythm with the song on the speaker, letting the batter mix in the background as you started to sift the powdered sugar into the clean bowl. You weren’t even looking at the time until you heard the familiar chime of your phone, sticky floury hands grabbing your cell phone to see the text from Carmy.

“Shit, fuck,” you turned the mixer off, putting the remnants of your cigarette out in the sink.

[(Y/N) personal] 11:26pm

Hey, just busy right now

Will text in a bit

Love you

When Carmy reads the text he’s a little… surprised to say the least. For you to have plans on a Saturday night was not unheard of by any means, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Anxiety creeped up a little, because what could you be doing at 11:30pm?

[Carmen] 11:27pm

Love you too

You ok?

[(Y/N) personal] 11:27pm

Of course

Come over when you’re done

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he continues to wipe down the stainless steel counter in front of him, nearly spotless already. Most of the other crew has gone home, save for Marcus in his station proofing his donuts for tomorrow and Richie texting someone at the expo line. He slips his phone in the pocket under his apron, undoing the knot on the back and dropping it in the hamper by the back door. “You guys can lock up, yeah?” Carmy calls, seeing Marcus nod at him and bid him goodnight with a small wave. “Heard,” Richie calls. “‘Night, cousin.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Carmy had called a few times, your phone ringing and ringing, but the chaotic kitchen had forced you to miss the calls. It was past midnight now, and you’d spent your whole day in the kitchen, the night getting away from you way quicker than you had intended. You had a small box in your bedside table, a thin gold chain you hadn’t wrapped for him yet, and your apartment was a fucking mess. Pans and bowls strewn across every surface, flour on the floors and walls, and somehow, and you had cream cheese icing under your fingernails. It was a bit of a mess.

When the icing was done, you managed to squeeze some on the tops of the cupcakes just in time to hear the lock on your door click. You stood, silently, as you heard Carmy quietly kick off his boots. He thought you might be sleeping.

Ha, far from it.

“Babe?”

When he rounded the corner, it was a sight to see for sure. Your hands twisted around a makeshift pastry bag, which was really a ZipLoc with a hole cut in the bottom. Apron tied in a bow around your waist, only accentuating the curves of your body. Carmy drinks you in.

“What are you doing?”

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Baking.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

He stepped forward tentatively, an amused smile on his face. His hand reached to the small of your back, a kiss adorning your cheek.

“Why are you baking?” He takes a finger to the end of the bag, sticking it in his mouth and marvelling at the taste. “Why are you killing it at baking?”

You smiled. “Don’t be mad.”

His eyebrow cocked, noticing the desserts in front of him, really, for the first time since he stepped in the door.

“Fucking Richie,” his hand found his forehead. “Fucker.”

“Happy Birthday, Carm.” You let the bag of icing flop on the stovetop, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, slotting them together to quiet the thoughts in his mind. You started to pepper kisses all over his face and neck, giggling between them, before he couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself.

“He told me they were your favourite, and I asked Marcus for a recipe and I haven’t tried one yet, even!” the words tumbled out of your mouth as he pulled you impossibly closer, swaying a little with you in his arms.

“Sorry. Richie told me not to make a dig deal, I just thought,” you shrugged, letting your hands slide down his biceps and tracing the faded tattoos there with your pointer finger. “I thought we could make it special again. If you want.”

The wild look in your eyes was enough to have him push forward again, lips crashing into lips, the amalgamation of all the tastes from his day on your tongue.

“Thank you.” He peers over your shoulder at the cupcakes, still in the tin, suddenly very interested in tasting the fruits of your labour.

“Should we try these?” His hand drops effortlessly to your waist, letting his body push past yours. He picks up a cupcake, handing one to you and ‘cheers’ing them playfully. He unwrapped the foil on the outside, sinking his teeth into the soft, sweet dessert.

“Mmmh,” he moans, letting his eyes roll back into his head slightly. “Wow,” the red colour coats his teeth. “Yeah.”

You nod along with him, your own teeth sinking in. “Oh yeah, I kinda killed it with these.”

“Hm, wait,” you put the cupcake down, pushing past him. You take the opportunity to put your hand on his broad back, feeling the muscles underneath.

When you return, he’s licking the rest of the icing off of his fingers. The way his lips wrap around his fingers makes your breath hitch.

“Before you say anything, it’s just small, if you hate it you can return it, blah blah blah…” you trail off, but you can’t hide the excitement across your features.

He pulls open the clamshell box, the gold chain reflecting against the warm lights of the kitchen and dancing along the walls. His lips part slightly, forming an “o” shape, with surprise.

“You’re…” he seems genuinely speechless. Carmy usually isn’t a man of many words, anyway, but this was noticeably different.

“Do you like it?” Your bottom lip is folded under your teeth in anticipation, eyes flickering up to meet his.

“You’re perfect,” is all he can say, and you swear you can see his eyes get a little glassy.

“Aw, well, don’t get soft on me now,” you let your arms wrap around him once again, pulling him into a hug this time. Your head fits perfectly into his chest, smelling the distinct scent of his signature cologne, long now covered by the smells of the restaurant. Him.

His nose fits perfectly into the crook of your neck as he leans down, deepening the hug to pull you in impossibly close. His lips latch onto the soft spot beneath your ear, enraptured by your presence.

For the first time in his life, Carmy is actually going to have a good birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

#carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy x you #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic

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bussyslayer333 · 1 year

Text

There was something ‘bout you

summary: bradley bradshaw didn’t fall in love, especially not with uptight girls in his english lit class and especially not the ones being forced into tutoring him. college au

pairing: fratboy!bradley x tutor!reader

word count: 9.2k

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of blood, teeny amount of violence, smut (oral and pinv), bradley sucks so bad but he’s cute!! MDNI 18+

Bradley knew girls liked him, loved him even.

He once had a girl leave him a love letter after a night together. It was a sweet touch, the pink paper and the gel pen she’d written it in, he slept with her once more after that but had to cut her off once he caught her snipping a little bit of his hair off in the middle of the night.

Anyways, what Bradley had concluded is that he was an attractive guy. Not too classically like his roommate and best friend Jake with his blonde locks and ken doll looks. But in a boyish charming way with his “big brown puppy dog eyes” or whatever that girl had written in the letter.

So when his Eng Lit professor had told him he was going to be tutored by a girl in his class he was pretty excited to say the least. Truth be told, the only reason he had picked this Eng Lit class was because he knew there would be an abundance of girls in there, sure they were probably a little more intellectually advanced than the girls he would usually go for but maybe that was what he needed. Some girl obsessed with like gothic literature, Jake had assured him they were the freaks he needed to bag.

He’s already started tuning out Professor Clarke’s spiel on getting his grade up and started imagining all the hot girls in his class who could possibly be tutoring him. There was Clara, she was the kind of gothy Jake was on about, he could definitely be into that. Or even Natalie, she was who Bradley usually went for, pretty brunette and what Jake would call in his omniscience; a colossal rack.

“Bradley, are you listening to me?”

Bradley pulled his mind from the depths of analysis of the girls in his class and hummed,

“Yes, Professor.”

“So you know who I’m assigning to tutor you?”

Bradley winces apologetically and watches as Professor Clarke runs a hand down his face.

“Please, Bradley. I’m just asking you to try and put some effort in, she’s only gonna be able to do so much to help you, you need to help yourself.”

Bradley sighs, “who is it?”

When Professor Clarke gives Bradley your name and tells him that you’ll meet him after class tomorrow his first thought is “who the fuck is that?” and his second one is in mourning of being in forced proximity of a hot goth chick or one of the girls who he’s already slept with.

Bradley walks back to his house slightly dejected, if he couldn’t even recognise you from your name there was probably not a huge chance you were going to be the ‘bad boy gets taught in a different way by his tutor’ wet dream he was hoping for. When he finally gets back he finds Jake lounging on the couch with another one of his frat brothers Reuben.

Jake looks up from where him and Reuben are watching this weeks football highlights on the TV to meet Bradley’s moping gaze.

“You good bro?”

Bradley replies with a whine, “Professor Clarke is making some girl tutor me.”

Reuben snorts and shovels another handful of chips into his mouth, “hot.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and flops onto the couch in between his two friends. He says your name to the two boys and begins, “do you know her?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow in thought for a moment before he smacks Reuben on the back of the head,

“Bro?” He whines.

“It’s the library chick!” Jake exclaims.

Reuben looks confused for a moment before he realises, “oh shit yeah!”

Jake and Reuben looks happy for themselves for a few moments before Bradley interrupts again, “When the fuck have you ever been to the library?”

Jake frowns, “I’ll have you know that I read, the classics are my favourite!”

“What classics?” Reuben scoffs.

Jake smiles, “You know, the classic ones?”

“Where’s Waldo isn’t a classic J,” Bradley smirks.

“Shut the fuck up, okay I was trying to impress this girl in my econ class.” Jake admits, “she’s very well read.”

Bradley mutters something about Jake being pussywhipped before deciding he needed to get back to the problem at hand. You.

“Okay, so library chick. Do I know her?”

Jake racks his mind for a minute, scowling at Reuben’s loud chewing sounds.

“Fuck, yeah okay, do you remember last year? She dropped that massive encyclopaedia on your hand after you whistled when she was bent over sorting out books.”

Bradley cringes in recollection. In his defence he did think he was complimenting you… albeit with not much class or subtlety. You were cute. Maybe a bit nerdy, but you clearly had guts which he appreciated.

“Shit.. yeah.”

Bradley hoped you weren’t one for grudges.

You weren’t for the most part, and when Professor Clarke had told you who you would be tutoring you had decided last years incident could be water under the bridge. You figured he didn’t even remember you, he hadn’t acknowledged your presence in the one class you shared either way.

However, when he came sauntering down from his seat right at the back of the lecture hall and paused in front of you by Professor Clarke’s desk you were already becoming mildly irritated.

Bradley could tell, and he also knew that he was goading it on by making eye contact with your tits before your eyes and then saying,

“Hey, beautiful.”

He watches as you scoff and mutter something that sounds similar to “fucking prick.” It makes him smile.

Professor Clarke sighs loudly and speaks directed towards you, “I trust you’ll be able to help Bradley, Lord knows he needs it.”

Bradley’s smile drops, “Hey! I literally submitted my last assignment in on time!”

Your face drops in shock, is that seriously what he considers a win?

Professor Clarke looks at Bradley and sighs once again, “you sent me a gif of a rat dancing and made the subject of the email “The Great Ratsby”.”

Bradley sputters slightly but clears his throat feeling the weighted stare of Professor Clarke still on him. The older man smiles thinly as you thank him for his time and move towards the door. Bradley is hot on your tail, and he rounds on you once the reach the corridor.

“So…. how are we doing this angel?”

Bradley can’t control how his lips quirk upwards at you apparent distaste for the pet name. He can’t help but wonder what you’d appreciate more; maybe sweetheart or baby or something cute like bunny. He’s snapped out of his thought process by you waving your hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Bradley?” You quip.

He shakes his head a smiles, “Sorry what was that sweetheart?”

He notices how your brows furrowed once again before you start up, “I could book a study room in the library? Wednesday at 6?”

Bradley nods, “Sure, can I get your number?”

You’re taken aback slightly before Bradley clarifies, “So we can text about when to meet?”

“Oh. Right, yeah of course.”

Bradley reaches for his phone in his hoodie pocket and hands it to you, opening it up to his contacts. Before you can type in your number you can’t help but notice the sheer amount of girls in his contacts. All with specific names.

cass (toothy ❌)

natalie (.)(.)

samantha (screamer ✅)

It makes you’re stomach churn in mild horror, which your push down in favour of finally typing in your number. You hand his phone back to him and watch as he chuckles whilst writing your contact name. He doesn’t let you see it before shooting you off a short “hi” text to send his number to your phone.

Bradley stares at you for a moment before whistling, “right… so I’ll see you Wednesday?”

You smile awkwardly back at him, “yeah.”

He readjusts his cap and nods in a goodbye before turning to leave the building. You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as you walk out the exit opposite.

It’s 6:45 on Wednesday when Bradley finally shows up. He’s wearing black joggers and a top that you presume is a few sizes too small with a cap placed backwards on his head.

He felt kind of shitty about being late, he was leaving to get to the library at 10 to 6 when Jake and his other frat brother Mickey called him over whilst they were playing COD, he thought he could squeeze in a game and not be too late. Evidently, he was wrong.

You’re reading a book which he doesn’t recognise when he finds you in the study room and begins to apologise.

“I’m sorry for being late sweetheart-”

“Yeah. Whatever Bradley, let’s just start.” You breathe out, not having the energy to listen to his excuses.

Bradley’s pissed at that. He came in here willing to apologise and you think you can make him feel bad? Not likely.

“There’s no need to get bitchy? I literally said I’m sorry.” Bradley snorts, pulling a chair out opposite you with a loud scrape.

You scoff, “seriously? I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour!”

“Yeah and I said sorry!”

“That’s not the point-”

You catch yourself before you carry on, he wasn’t worth the waste of breath.

“Look it’s fine. Let’s just get started.”

Bradley pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and leans back.

“Alright.”

The session is as productive as you can make it with your significantly shorter period of time. You find out that Bradley knows little to nothing about any of the texts that you’re studying and enjoys annoying you deeply. You’re not sure whether he hates silence or just loves the sound of his own voice. You figure it’s the latter.

“You’re glasses don’t fit you properly.” He points out after you push them up your nose for the third time in the past minute.

They’re slipping down your nose as you look down to read over some notes Bradley had made.

“Sure they do.”

Bradley shrugs and leans back again. You can feel his heavy gaze on you as you push your glasses back up again. He doesn’t say anything. Just smiles.

You’re cute, for sure. He kind of digs your chunky cardigan library assistant vibe. Maybe if you loosened up a little he’d like you even more. Bradley starts to wonder what you’d be like at one of his frat parties. He doesn’t think he’s seen you anywhere outside of class or the library. Maybe you’d go absolutely buck wild after a few of Reuben’s infamously too strong drinks. He figures you’re probably his friend Bob’s type, you’re both sort of nerdy and cute in a mousy way.

Bradley doesn’t realise he’s been zoned out looking at your face for the past two minutes until he sees a book being dropped down on the desk in front of him. It gives him slight PTSD from the encyclopaedia incident. He picks up the book and looks at you, confused.

“What’s this?”

You laugh with an almost unbelieving look on your face.

“Shakespeare? Romeo and Juliet? We’ve just started going over it in class?”

Bradley picks up the book of various Shakespeare plays and skims through it until he reaches Romeo and Juliet.

“Yeah, my bad, I think I recognise this.”

You cringe inwardly at the amount of work you’re probably going to have to put in to stop Bradley from failing.

“Great.”

Bradley smiles at what he thinks is praise from you and goes back to reading the first scene of the play. You’re blessed with a blissful silence for a moment whilst Bradley reads and you send off a few texts to you roommate Maya about how the tutoring session is going.

maya 😘😘

how is it???????

you

he’s an idiot

i’m pretty sure i saw him read dickens on the reading list and snort and then mumble “dick” under his breath

maya 😘😘

LMFAO

the cute ones are never smart

you

maya 😘😘

shut up you’d hit

you

i find that offensive

Before you can send off another annoyed text to your friend, Bradley speaks up again.

“Do you like, read and shit?”

You stifle a giggle, “what?”

“Like books?”

“Are you seriously asking the girl who works at the library-”

Bradley chuckles, “Okay! I see my mistake, what’s you’re favourite book then?”

You hum whilst staring at him, it was an oddly thoughtful question.

“Probably Wuthering Heights. It’s by Emily Brontë.”

You’re not quite sure why you told him the last part. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley Bradshaw did not know who the Brontë sisters were.

He cocks his head to the side, “what’s it about?”

You’re not sure whether Bradley genuinely wants to know about you and your interests or if he just doesn’t want to actually study, Bradley is equally confused because he’s asking his question in earnest.

“It’s about this guy called Heathcliff who gets adopted into this family and falls in love with his sister Catherine, he grows up to find out that she’s a married another man and basically becomes obsessed with avenging what could have been his.” You try to explain as simply as possible.

“HIS SISTER?” Bradley exclaims with a laugh.

“It’s not like that-”

“Babe, I didn’t realise you were into that freak shit.”

You can’t control your laugh at the absurdity of his words. Bradley really likes that sound, and the way that your eyes crinkle. It’s weird, he suddenly feels like he wants to be the only person to make you do that.

Once you’ve calmed down you look back up to see Bradley staring at you once again. You quirk an eyebrow up questioningly before looking at the clock behind him.

“Shit, we need to go. I only booked this place till 8.”

“What! I swear I only just got here!”

You snort, “Yeah well if you’d been on time…”

Bradley pouts at you, “Baby, please. I’m sorry.”

It’s half mocking, but the way he’s staring up at you with wide eyes makes your stomach flutter slightly. You shake your head as if to banish the thoughts and begin picking up your books.

“Just be on time next week, please.”

Bradley stands, moving round the table and pats you on the head.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

The gesture makes your frown slightly, but it served as a reminder for how you suppose Bradley truly feels about you. You’re not friends, and he doesn’t like you in any romantic capacity. You’re just the girl forced into tutoring him.

The next few tutoring sessions go somewhat the same. Bradley has a short attention span but tries his best, he’s nice enough to you that you can sometimes forget he’s slept with half the girls in your class.

You’re sat next to him in the study room doing some quick flash card recap questions. He’s fiddling with a thread at the end of your long sleeve shirt, it feels kind of intimate but you don’t want to look into it too hard. It’s been like this over the past few weeks, touches that last too long and his incessant usage of pet names. But, every time you begin to let yourself feel special you’ll catch a glimpse of a girls name flash across his phone screen and your predicament hits you right across the face with a loud crack; shattering the hope you’ve been building.

Bradley moves from playing with the thread on your top sleeve to your fingers, mumbling a correct answer to one of your questions. He keeps finding the need to be close to you, and not even always in a sexual way which shocks him the most. Don’t get him wrong, he’s definitely thought about it a few times in the shower, or in his bed or even when he was fucking Natalie last week and he suddenly thought about how cute you’d look with your glasses sliding down your nose whilst you’re sat on top of him. He had to look away from Natalie for the rest of the time she was there, he felt too guilty.

The morning after when Natalie had left surprisingly early, Jake (who had been noticing the lack of girls flowing in and out of his shared room on Bradley’s part) had an inkling as to why.

“You like her.” Jake declares as he plops himself down in the gaming chair in his room, spinning to face where Bradley is lying on his bed.

“What?”

“The library chick. The one who’s been tutoring you.” Jake expands.

“What do you mean?”

“You like her!”

Bradley huffs, annoyed at Jake’s insistence, “yeah, she’s cool.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “no, you like like her.”

“You’re 12, and no I don’t!” Bradley removes his hands from behind his head and moves to sit up straighter against his headboard.

Jake clicks his tongue, “okay so you wouldn’t mind if I fucked her?”

Bradley cocks his head to the side but doesn’t say anything.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, she’s kind of hot.”

Jake watched as a muscle in Bradley’s jaw ticks. He knows he’s struck gold.

“Maybe we’ll do some roleplay, she can be my sexy teacher and I’ll bend her over the desk.” Jake wraps his knuckles against the desk behind him and chuckles, “sturdy.”

Jake knows he’s almost got Bradley as he watches him clench and unclench his fist.

“I mean that ass, it’s insane really I’ll tell you how it feels afterwards if you-”

“Shut the fuck up! Fuck! Fine okay I fucking like her, what do you want me to say?!”

Bradley’s outburst doesn’t surprise Jake in the slightest. In fact, it puts a smile on his face.

“Nothing. I just wanted to know.”

Bradley rubs a hand down his face, he’s pretty sure he’s never felt like this before. It kind of scares him to be honest.

“You should invite her here on Friday.”

Friday. For the party. Bradley thinks about it for a second, “Bro, not if you’re going to try and fuck her.”

Jake chuckles, “she’s all yours, her roommate is the girl from my econ class so if anything this is selfish of me.”

Bradley smiles, “alright.”

After Bradley answers another question correct you smile at him brightly.

“Looks like somebody’s been hitting the books!” You poke, setting your flash cards down on the table.

Bradley warms at the praise and looks at you for a moment.

“Will you come to my party on Friday?”

You study his face for a moment, he looks almost nervous.

“I don’t know Brad, it’s not really my scene and I wouldn’t really know anyone,” you smile apologetically at him.

“You know me!” Bradley reasons, pulling your hand into his.

“And you’re gonna spend the whole night sitting with me? You’re funny.”

Bradley thinks about how he’d definitely do that if you asked him to.

“Bring your roommate! Maya is it? I’m pretty sure Jake is in love with her.”

Bradley’s words make you giggle and you consider for a moment, when you look back to Bradley he’s got an adorable pout on his lips,

“Please don’t make me beg, angel.”

Although the idea of Bradley on his knees begging is tempting, you’re not that cruel. You pretend to think for a moment more before answering.

“Fine. But only in the name of Jake and Maya.”

Bradley is pleased with your answer, “Thanks, angel.”

You smile, “whatever.”

You check your phone and find that you’ve spent the last 10 minutes of the session just chatting with Bradley.

“We need to go,” You remind him.

Bradley looks a little crestfallen but stands anyway. He helps you gather your books and puts them into your tote bag for you.

“Thanks.” You mumble as he hands the bag to you.

He scratches the back of his head for a moment before speaking, “Can I, like, walk you back?”

His gesture makes you smile, as well as his sort of nervous demeanour, “Little old me? Bradley Bradshaw wants to walk little old me home?” you tease.

The familiar smirk makes its way back onto Bradley’s face at your prodding. “Shut up, I’m being a gentleman or whatever.”

“Well then, who am I to decline?” You smile at him.

“Dork.” Bradley mutters under his breath as he opens the door for you.

Bradley takes your bag off of your shoulder and places it on his own, once he feels the weight settles down he looks at you shocked,

“You carry this shit around everywhere?”

The confused look in his eye makes you laugh, “yes?”

“This is so heavy? What are you even carrying?”

“Books? My laptop?”

Bradley laughs, “Shit, maybe I need to start coming to these sessions more prepared.”

Bradley pushes open the main door to the library and the cold night air hits you unexpectedly, making you shiver in your long sleeve tee. He looks down at your attire and rolls his eyes.

“Hold this for a sec.” Bradley drops your bag back into your hands and begins to pull his hoodie up over his head.

You go to protest but your mouth falls open awkwardly at the way his t-shirt rides up, exposing his toned lower abdomen and the sprinkling of hair that leads all the way down-

“Angel?”

“Yes! Sorry, what?” You stutter out with a chuckle.

Bradley gestures for you to hand him back the bag and hands out the hoodie with his other hand. You take it and pull it over your head, revelling in the smell of it. It’s partly his cologne and the rest something uniquely him.

“Ready to go?” Bradley asks, looking down at you.

“Sure,” You smile up at him.

Bradley feels his stomach flip, looking down at your frame drowned in his hoodie. Before he can even process what he’s doing Bradley has slipped his hand into yours. You don’t say anything in fear of him retracting it but the smile that sits on your face is blinding.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Bradley squeezing your hand every now and then in reassurance. You turn a corner and watch as you apartment complex comes into view. Squeezing his hand you look up at him and speak,

“This is me.”

Bradley pouts a little, “You don’t want me to walk you all the way in?”

You giggle and shake your head, “No don’t worry.”

You reach for the hem of the hoodie and begin to pull it up when Bradley stops you.

“Keep it. Please. It looks better on you.” He almost whispers.

You flush at his words and look at him with furrowed brows, trying to study his expression. Whether he’s being truthful or not. He hands your bag back over to you and nods.

“If you’re sure.” You smile, “I’ll see you Friday?”

Bradley winks, “You better.”

“Night Bradley.”

“Goodnight, angel.” Bradley hums.

He watches your retreating frame until you’re inside of your building before spinning on his heel to walk in the opposite direction back to his house.

Bradley pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking through his messages as he walks. He finds himself deleting almost all of the irrelevant numbers from girls that had been littering his contacts without much thought. Once he’s done he goes to pocket his phone again before it vibrates in his hand.

angel ❤️‍🩹

thank u <3

Maya has been ready to go for the past half an hour as she sits on your bed and watches as you pick up various dresses and items of clothing before discarding them on the floor.

You’ll admit you probably look ridiculous stood in your underwear with a full face of makeup on and your hair pulled up into a styled ponytail but it was not your priority at this second.

“I have nothing to wear! I’m not going Maya, just go without me!”

Maya sighs and walks towards you’re closet, rifling through the particularly skimpy dresses you had purposely avoided. She pulls out a short blue halter neck dress and shoves it into your hands.

“Go put this on.”

You roll your eyes at her tone, “okay, mom.”

“And don’t ruin the makeup I did!”

You wander into the little bathroom and begin to pull the dress over your head when Maya opens the door with a tiny scrap of fabric in her hands.

“You are not wearing those granny panties,” She looks pointedly down at the cotton panties with flowers that you have on.

You pout, “They’re comfy.”

Maya struts over and places the lacy garment in your hand, “Bradley can thank me later.”

“Shut up!” You exclaim, trying to hide your smile.

“I’ll be in here if you need me,” She giggles,

“Wait! Maya you didn’t give me a bra!” You whine.

She rolls her eyes, “I know.” Before closing the door behind her.

You strip out of your comfy underwear and look down at the baby blue lace and sigh, at least you’d shaved. Pulling the dress over your head whilst trying to maintain Maya’s artistry was hard but not impossible you found, and when you pulled the dress the rest of the way down you realised you didn’t need a bra anyway. You spin a little, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked good.

There’s a new found confidence in your walk as you make your way back to your bedroom where Maya is sat fiddling with the buckle on a pair of wedges in her lap. When she looks up she hollers at you,

“Damnn! Twirl for me gorgeous!”

You laugh at her antics but indulge her anyway gasping in faux shock when she slaps your butt playfully. She hands over the wedges and your eyes widen slightly at the height.

Maya laughs at your expression, “baby don’t worry I’m sure they’ll be in the air more than they’ll be on the ground anyway.”

“You’re relentless!” You swat at her before bending down to do up the shoes.

You gather your phone and some lipgloss before linking your arms in Maya’s.

“Let’s go?”

“Let’s go.” She confirms.

You check your phone once your a block away from Bradley’s frat house. There’s a few messages from him that you’ve yet to respond to.

brad 🙃

when are u getting here??

i miss u angel

you

almost there :)

You snort at how needy Bradley sounded, there was probably enough girls there to keep him entertained.

It’s not hard to miss Bradley’s house, there are people littered around the front yard drinking and the music could be heard from at least a block away. As you walk up the steps on the front porch you wobble slightly on your wedges and Maya steadies you, she sees the anxious look in your eyes and smiles,

“You look so hot right now babe,”

You roll your eyes but let the nerves sink down as she grips onto your hand tighter.

The house is pretty packed with girls in tiny outfits and an unnerving amount of shirtless dudes. Maya leads you through the crowds to where there’s a group of dudes playing beer pong. As you get closer you recognise Jake and Bradley and a few other guys from their frat.

Jake spots you both first, nudging Bradley. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous when Bradley makes eye contact with you and starts making his way over, much to the disappointment of the frat bro he was playing with. You look to your side to find that Maya has already made her way over to Jake and when you look back Bradley is right in front of you.

He’s still tall enough that you have to look up to make eye contact with him, and his cologne clouds your thoughts. He takes your hand and drags you over to a quieter corner of the room. Bradley’s eyes rake over your form hungrily, you drop your hands in front of your stomach almost on autopilot.

“You look incredible, angel.” Bradley speaks earnestly.

He takes both your hands in his and holds them up so he can stare at you again.

You can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks as you look up at him, “You think?” You ask somewhat coyly.

Bradley nods, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, making you giggle. He takes one of your hands and spins you around just slightly and whistles lowly,

“Can I take a picture?”

You roll your eyes and spin back around to face him, pushing lightly at his chest, “Shut up.”

He raises both hands in mock defence and shrugs, “worth a shot.”

You move to stand to the side of him, back against the wall and take a moment to look at him. He looks handsome, as always, but you can tell he’s put extra effort in. He’s wearing a thin shirt with two of the middle buttons done up and dark jeans. You’re sure he could have forgone the shirt with how much of his skin is exposed but you can’t complain seeing how tightly it fits around his biceps. His hair is tousled but in a way that looks purposeful and he smells incredible.

Without realising, you’ve inched closer to Bradley and his cologne hits your nose in a pleasant surprise. When you meet his eyes you find that he’s already looking at you.

“You smell good,” you murmur.

Bradley leans down so that you can hear him clearly, “thank you, angel.”

His lips brush against the shell of your ear so delicately that you could almost pretend that you imagined it, but the way a shiver runs down your spine tells you otherwise. Before you get a chance to compose yourself Bradley is imposing on your personal space again and speaking into you ear,

“Do you want me to get you a drink?” He nods towards the kitchen on the far side of the house.

You consider for a moment, then nod.

“Please.”

Maybe it would help calm your nerves.

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

Bradley departs from his space next to you with a wink, his lack of presence already making you frown. Instead of moping, you survey the surrounding area for Maya, hoping to check in with her.

You finally catch sight of her when her hot pink dress catches your eye as she ascends the main staircase with a tall blonde who you can only recognise as Jake. You giggle, swiping open your phone to send her a text.

you

use protection 😘

You can only hope she reads your message.

After a few more moments of scrolling through your phone you look up to realise Bradley still hasn’t made his way back to you. First you consider the fact that this is a party that he is hosting, he could have been sidetracked by any one of his numerous frat brothers or friends.

So, you decide to make your way to the kitchen, just so you could retrieve your drink of course.

What you’re not prepared to see is short brunette girl kissing Bradley, because of course that’s what held him up from getting your drink. It serves as a reminder of the fact that he is not your boyfriend and had no intention of being so, you figure he probably got tired of waiting for you to put out so he moved onto the next girl. You see that someone had lined up a few tequila shots on the counter nearest to you and knock back the few closest, wincing as the liquid warms the back of your throat all the way down to your stomach.

You close your eyes and breathe out, stomach churning from the shots and sight you’ve just seen, you spin on your heel to walk away from the counter but stumble whilst turning around too quickly. You probably would have hit the floor if it wasn’t for a strong grasp, steadying you by the waist.

“Shit, you okay darlin’?” The person who saved you from near embarrassment drawls out.

You steady yourself with hands on his surprisingly hard chest and look up into his blue eyes. He’s handsome, even with his wired frame glasses slipping down his sloped nose. He’s not less attractive than Bradley, just in a more refined way.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m not used to wearing shoes this high yet.” You mumble sheepishly, frustrated that you’ve managed to embarrass yourself in front of another freakishly attractive man.

“I’m Robert or Bob or whatever you want to call me,” Robert smiles down at you, speaking somewhat loudly to combat the thumping bass of whatever song was currently playing.

You give him your name and he smiles brighter if possible, almost as if he’s shocked you’re still talking to him.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He charms, watching you giggle.

His words almost make you forget what you had seen in the kitchen, the memory making you frown ever so slightly. Robert mistakes this for annoyance at his words and quickly adds on,

“Sorry, that was stupid and-”

You’re quick to silence his anxieties, “No, I liked it.” You speak in earnest, propelled by liquid courage.

Robert scratches the back of his neck and cocks his head to the side, “Do you want to dance?”

His question makes you smile, because yeah you do want to dance and fuck Bradley Bradshaw.

“Totally.” You beam up at him.

Robert pulls you toward the living room where people are crammed together dancing, sweaty bodies moving on top of each other in some cases almost obscenely.

The music seems to be vibrating off of the walls and the familiar voices of Rihanna and Bryson Tiller fill your ears. Robert seems somewhat apprehensive but the tequila buzzing through you makes you confident as you turn you back to him, grinding your ass back subtly as to test the waters. Robert’s hands move to grip at your waist, aiding you in grinding back onto him. You move one of your arms to rest around his neck and you giggle as you hear him groan quietly into your hair.

Bradley returns to where he’d left you flustered and annoyed carrying two red cups. Natalie had cornered him in the kitchen and tried to kiss him. He was furious, he’d sent her a text a few days ago apologising and letting her know he wasn’t interested in seeing her again. Clearly, that didn’t matter to her. After she had forced herself on him, he shoved her off somewhat awkwardly and told her firmly that he wasn’t interested. Bradley realised she was clearly already plastered and retrieved one of her friends from nearby to look after her.

He felt bad for leaving you on your own for so long but he hoped that if he could explain you wouldn’t be too annoyed.

However, when he gets back he finds that you’re not there. Initially, he worries that you’d left to go home. But after scanning the large living room packed with people, he spots you, grinding back onto his friend Bob.

Bradley’s stomach drops watching how you giggle at something Bob has whispered into your ear, how his hands and wrapped around your waist and how your ass is grinding back onto his crotch.

Without realising, Bradley has began to storm through the clumps of intoxicated people, dropping the drinks on a side table nearby. Fuelled by anger and jealously he pulls at one of Bob’s arms wrapped around your waist.

Bob stumbles back and turns with brows furrowed,

“Bradley? Are you okay-”

Before he can finish his question, Bradley’s fist hits the side of Bob’s nose with a sickening crunch, pushing him to the ground before raising his fist to hit him again.

The people who were previously dancing have made a circle around the commotion, drawing the attention of Bradley’s frat brothers Reuben and Mickey who push to the middle of the circle and grab Bradley before he can cause anymore damage.

“What the fuck man!” Reuben scolds in his ear, pulling him from his anger induced trance.

Bradley stops struggling against Reuben and Mickey’s grip, and instead looks down to see you tearfully wiping at the blood spilling from Bob’s nose in copious amounts.

Your watery eyes are looking up at him with so much anger that he feels bile rising in his throat. He runs a bruised hand through his sweaty hair and sighs. He can hear Mickey trying to get everyone to disperse, clearly not wanting his friend’s dirty laundry being aired out in front of everyone they know. Bradley can’t focus on any of the words being spoken to him, just the utter look of disappointment on your face.

A few hours later almost everyone has left the house. You’re sat on a bench in the backyard knees tucked under you and wedges removed and on the floor. Maya and Jake are sat next to you, they had returned to find an almost empty house save for you and Jake’s frat brothers.

Bradley had stormed out following Reuben and Mickey’s intervention, he couldn’t handle looking at your sad face and being the one who caused it.

“I just don’t know what the fuck he wants from me!” You exclaim to Maya.

Her and Jake had been filled in by you and Jake had the decency to look sheepish. It was his idea to invite you tonight, he knew how Bradley felt about you but it wasn’t necessarily his place to say.

You didn’t know how to feel, you were still upset from seeing him kiss that girl, confused as to why he punched Robert if he clearly wasn’t interested in you. Maybe it was some strange frat bro mentality, he didn’t want you but he also didn’t want anyone else to have you? It was all too confusing for 2am.

Maya’s hand is comforting on your back, rubbing circles and trying to alleviate the stress radiating off of you. Guilt is eating at Jake’s stomach and he’s about to spill everything he knows when he hears the glass patio doors opening from behind him.

He turns back and makes eye contact with Bradley, trying to non verbally say “not the time.” But you’ve noticed his presence before Jake can save him.

“Fuck off, Bradley.”

Bradley winces, he deserves your anger.

“Angel, please. Hear me out?” Bradley pleads.

He looks awkward, scratching at the back of his neck, nervous for your answer.

You look to Maya and she shrugs. She thinks you should hear him out, of course she does.

You sigh, “Fine.”

Jake and Maya exchange words silently and move to leave. Jake pats Bradley on the shoulder, he knows how shitty Bradley feels about how tonight went down and he also knows that he’s just been at Bob’s apartment apologising profusely.

Bradley sits down on the bench next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his lap and tuck his chin on top of your head, but he knows that probably wouldn’t go down too well right now.

“I’m so fucking sorry angel.” Bradley breathes out.

You raise your eyebrows, “I don’t get you Bradley!” you huff out, “You walk me home and call me ‘angel’ and you have no concept of personal space but then I see you kissing some girl in the kitchen whilst you’re supposedly getting me a drink and then as soon as I-”

“I wasn’t kissing anyone!” Bradley cuts in, confused.

“Bradley there was only one person in that house wearing a floral button up and he was kissing a girl in the kitchen when I went to check on you.”

Bradley racks his brain for a moment before he realises what you’re talking about.

“Oh shit. Natalie.” Bradley concludes, mostly to himself.

You roll your eyes, “Great to know you caught her name before you let her shove her tongue down your throat.”

Now you knew her name you recognised her, she was in your Eng Lit class. Natalie was gorgeous to make you feel even worse.

“Angel, I didn’t want to kiss her.” Bradley sighs, “she was wasted and pushed herself on me.”

You look at him sadly, wanting so badly to believe him, “really?”

Bradley shuffles closer towards you, placing his hand over yours resting on the faded wood of the bench.

“I wouldn’t lie, angel.” Bradley promises, squeezing your hand.

“Still doesn’t excuse you acting like a fucking neanderthal and punching Robert, he didn’t deserve that. He’s sweet.” You’re not willing to fully forgive him yet.

Bradley feels anxiety pool in his stomach, at the thought of what he’s going to have to say to you.

“I know and I told him how sorry I was. I just, you make me crazy you know?” Bradley laughs out, “the first time I met you, you dropped an encyclopaedia on my hand. Do you remember that?”

You giggle slightly at the memory, “You deserved it.”

“Yeah well the thing is sweetheart, I deserve a lot of shit. I know I kind of fucking suck, but one thing I really don’t deserve is you.” Bradley smiles nervously.

“You’re so smart, and I’m such an idiot because I thought I could try and pretend that I’m not in love with you.”

Your eyes widen at Bradley’s confession. He looks pale with anxiety, he doesn’t think he can remember a time where he’d ever been nervous when talking to a girl. But this was so much different. Because it’s you.

Bradley can’t help the word vomit that seems to be pouring out of his lips, “You’re so beautiful, but that’s not the reason I love you. I love how smart you are and how you’re funnier than me and all my friends combined. I love the way you make me feel when I’m with you. I know I’ve probably completely fucked this up tonight but I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

The vulnerability in Bradley’s words makes your heart clench, the way his eyes are staring at you so deeply, shining in the moonlight like he’d do anything for you. You can feel the tears pooling in your lash line.

“Oh Bradley.” You give him a watery smile, reaching your free hand up to cup at his jawline.

“I love you too, you dick.”

Bradley laughs, loud. Relief is sweet but not as sweet as how you look, staring at him with wide eyes and pouted lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers.

You nod and surge forward, hands coming to rest around his neck. Bradley pulls you into his lap and connects your lips. He thinks about the cherry chapstick you always carry in your bag and how he can taste it on you now, how soft your lips feel against his. His tongue pushes against your lips tentatively, you grant him access and sigh contentedly at the feeling of him.

One of Bradley’s hands is soft at the back of your head, guiding you against him gently whilst the other is tracing circles against your hips rhythmically. You trace your nails in patterns against the short hair and the back of his head and smile into the kiss as he moans at the feeling.

Bradley goes to deepen the kiss once again but is stopped abruptly by a noise coming from behind him.

“We should check on them, oh-”

You pull back from Bradley sheepishly with a wet saliva caused noise and make eye contact with Maya. Then Jake.

Jake is the first to laugh, “I told you they’d be fine.”

You wake up before Bradley at noon the next day. You’re lying in his bed draped in a large t-shirt of his.

The sun is streaming through his thin curtains and you’ve been swapping your gaze between a shirtless Bradley and something that caught your eye on his bedside table.

Bradley begins to stir with an aggressive yawn and stretch that almost wipes you out. You whack his arm out of your face and lean down kiss his forehead.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” You giggle.

Bradley groans and smushes his face into your boobs,

“I’m tired.” he mumbles, muffled.

You thread a hand through his curls and speak tentatively,

“I have a question.”

Bradley sits up at that, moving so he can look at you properly.

“When did you get this?” You reach for the book on his bedside table, it’s a copy of Wuthering Heights with an old receipt sticking out at around the half way mark being used in place of a proper bookmark.

Bradley’s cheeks flush slightly, “Like, I don’t know. Maybe a few days after that first session in the library.”

Your cheeks hurt from trying to suppress your smile. You reach forward and kiss him sweetly, handing resting on his toned chest.

When you pull back he chuckles, “I wanted to impress you.”

“That is the sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Bradley cackles at your emission until he realises how deadly serious you’re being.

“Angel.. we need to change that.” He smiles, lifting at the hem of his shirt on your frame.

You hum and connect your lips again, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he begins to pull at the t-shirt.

You separate for a moment to let him pull it off you fully. On reaction your hands reach up to cover yourself but Bradley catches them before you get the chance. He manoeuvres you so that he’s now the one on top and stares down at you hungrily.

“Jesus christ, angel.”

His hands reach for you breasts, squeezing them appreciatively. His thumbs flick over your pebbled nipples, smirking upon seeing how you preen into his touch, back arching up off of the bed.

Bradley moves to kiss down from your lips to you collarbones, paying specific attention to your pulse point, tongue lathing at where he sucked a mark too harshly. He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, straining against his boxers, at the sounds of your little whimpers and moans.

Bradley attaches his lips to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue in circles, revelling at how your breath hitches.

“Fuck, please Brad,” you whimper from underneath him.

He unlatches his lips and rests his head on your stomach.

“What do you need angel? Anything.” He promises.

Your teeth bite into your bottom lip as you consider, “your mouth?”

Bradley smiles at your request and shucks the covers off from his back, he moves down the bed slightly and sits back on his knees. His hands reach forward to grasp at your panties, pulling them down your legs. You lift your hips to aid him and giggle at how he holds them appreciatively once they’re off.

“These are cute.” He admits.

“Thanks, babe.” You giggle, make a mental note to tell Maya.

“But this. This is fucking incredible.”

Bradley lifts your legs over his shoulders, head dipping down to look at your pussy. He blows a cool breath onto your glistening folds and smirks at how your squirm at the feeling.

“Does me reading seriously make you this soaked?” Bradley chuckles.

You buck your hips up and whine, “yes! It’s cute you wanted to impress me.”

Bradley laughs and decides to put and end to your waiting, licking a stripe up your folds. The sound you make is music to his ears. He swirls his tongue around your clit, arms holding your thighs from closing around his head.

He licks at you languidly and moans against your pussy, “you taste amazing.”

Bradley’s words make you whimper, a shiver of arousal running down your spine.

“Keep going, baby please.”

Bradley’s tongue dips into your hole, fucking into you for a moment before coming back up to swirl at your clit. He’s moaning almost as much as you, the vibrations making your hips jerk up against his hold. You reach a hand down to grab at his hair making Bradley whimper. The noise shocks you slightly and makes you gush, pleasing Bradley to no end.

He sucks at your clit, spurred on by your hand grasping at his curls.

“Fuck, I’m close Brad please.” You whimper out.

Bradley flicks at your clit once more then pulls away, tongue poking out to lick at your juices that have accumulated around his chin.

You whine at the loss of contact and the pout on your lips almost makes Bradley cave, before he speaks up again.

“I want to feel you around me angel.”

You shiver at his words and nod, pulling him up by his chin to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you can tell he knows it too by the way he smiles against your lips.

He pulls back only to reach for a condom from a drawer in his bedside table. He hands it to you to open whilst he pulls off his boxers. Although, you’re sort of hypnotised by how handsome he looks in the sunlight peaking in through his cheap curtains. His skin is tan and he has a few moles dotted around his chest, but most importantly there’s a sprinkling of dark hair that spans from between his pecs all the way down into his happy trail. When you catch sight of his cock your mouth waters slightly and Bradley laughs.

“It’s rude to stare, angel.”

“It’s rude that half the girls on this campus have seen the snake between your legs, Bradley.”

He snorts at you short streak of jealousy and moves to cup your cheeks with his hands.

“You’re the only one for me, angel.”

He sighs against your lips as he feels your small hands wrap around his dick. He looks down and groans loudly at the sight of you slowly stroking him before ripping open the condom he had given to you.

You let go of him so that he can roll the condom down his length, shuffling down so you can lie with your head resting against the pillows. Bradley sits on his knees between your thighs, staring down at you intensely.

“You’re so beautiful, angel.”

He leans down to connect your lips quickly and pulls back only slightly so he can watch your features as he guides his cock towards your entrance, dripping in arousal.

He pushes in slowly, smirking as you whimper quietly. You roll your eyes at his expression and whisper into his ear,

“Fuck me like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

Bradley laughs and hikes your legs up higher around his waist. He plunges into you without warning, revelling in how you squeak in surprise. His thrusts are deep and calculated, hitting at the right spot almost every time.

You moan out gutturally, “shit, right there Brad.”

The way his name rolls off your lips make Bradley grunt in pleasure, speeding up his thrusts if even possible. You feel incredible around him, squeezing at him just right. Bradley continues his ministrations but reaches a hand down to toy at your clit, smirking at how your moans increase in pitch. He makes circles around the bundle of nerves and feels his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your walls are pulsing against him.

You reach a hand down over Bradley’s to swirl at your clit, he groans loudly at the sight, head dropping down to stare at where he’s fucking in and out of you. He moans a little pathetically but can’t feel it within himself to be embarrassed when you tighten so deliciously around him.

“I’m really close, angel.” He groans, leaning down to breathe into your neck.

“Me too, baby.” You whine, kissing the top of his head, “please cum for me, Bradley.”

Your words were all Bradley needed to reach his peak. His hips stutter against yours as he spurts into the condom and the feeling combined with your fast swirls against your clit shoots white hot pleasure through you, pushing you over the precipice as well.

Bradley is a panting mess above you, his skin sticking to yours with sweat. He pulls out of you slowly and ties off the condom. When he flops down next to you, you kiss all over his face, squealing when he grabs your face and smushes your lips together. He pulls away from you and stares at you in your sweaty post sex glow and smiles.

You catch his eyes and hum, “you’re so pretty, Bradley.”

His lips quirk as he reaches to stroke his thumb over you cheek.

“I’ve not heard that one before.”

Bradley eventually ventures downstairs to retrieve you a glass of water and makes eye contact with Reuben as he goes to ascend the stairs again.

Reuben flips him the bird without looking, “you’re fucking loud bro.”

Bradley can’t find it in himself to care.

No one is more surprised on Monday morning than Professor Clarke when he sees you walk into his lecture hall with Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your waist, your usual large tote bag now slung over his shoulder.

He watches in amusement for the hour as you note diligently and raise you hand as usual, however there was now the addition of Bradley. Pointing at your notes when he wanted something explaining or whispering something in your ear after you made a good point that makes you smile.

Professor Clarke finds it sweet, albeit slightly confusing considering the tension that surrounded the two of you when you’d been introduced.

Once your class has finished Bradley helps you pack your things up before putting your bag over his shoulder once again,

“You know I can carry my own bag?” You tease, poking at his bicep.

“Then how will everyone know you have a super strong and handsome boyfriend?” Bradley rolls his eyes playfully.

As you’re descending the stairs you spot someone walking towards you and Bradley from the corner of your eye.

“Natalie, hi.” Bradley speaks awkwardly, placing a comforting hand on your waist.

“Hi Bradley… I just wanted to apologise, I was fucking wasted on Friday and I didn’t realise you have a girlfriend and I should have read your texts properly and I’m really embarrassed to be honest,” she chuckles out awkwardly.

You smile at the girl, sensing her guiltiness. You look to Bradley who has a small smile on his face as well.

“It’s cool,” Bradley speaks truthfully.

She nods and sends you another apologetic smile before making her own exit from the classroom.

Once she’s out of earshot you turn to Bradley,“That was nice of her,”

Bradley nods and threads his hand in yours, leading you down the rest of the stairs. As you walk past Professor Clarke’s desk he calls out your name. He gestures down to where you’re holding hands with Bradley and jests,

“I’ll admit this was the last outcome I was expecting when I asked you to tutor Bradley here.”

You can feel Bradley’s smirk from next to you and roll your eyes, “He’s not so bad.”

a/n: HERE SHE IS LADIES AND GENTS!!!!! fratboy!brad and his angel 😭😭😭

my apologies for how sucky he gets BUT HE MAKES UP FOR IT PROMISE

also apologies for making him deck bob LMFAO

as always i love to hear feedback so pls comment, reblog or send me an ask and tell me what you think!

thank u for reading!!!

- honey <333

4K notes · View notes

nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 6.7k

summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.

a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.

and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.

read: part three | masterlist

Friday

“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift.

“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”

“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.”

“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Hell yeah.”

“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”

“A play on tradition.”

“Exactly."

“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night.

The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend.

“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner.

“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing.

“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote.

“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face.

“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you.

“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”

“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen.

You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen.

“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus.

“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back.

“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers.

“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets.

Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone.

You chuckle in response.

“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came.

And will still be one after you.

Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself.

“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly.

“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments.

“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.

The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….

“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”

“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”

You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’

“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges.

“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.

“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”

Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say,

I got you.

“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar.

He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”

“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”

You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even.

“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure.

You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something.

You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service. You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus.

You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top.

“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”

“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts.

“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece.

“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised.

You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you.

“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”

“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”

“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”

“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”

“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy.

Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks.

“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start.

“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone.

You lean against the bar top towards Sugar.

“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband.

“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.”

You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about.

“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb.

“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“No, we wanted to!”

“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”

What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.

“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.

“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”

“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.”

You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next.

“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.”

Bear.

You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.

You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her.

“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings.

You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.”

“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely.

“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”

“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly.

“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service.

You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out.

He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him.

“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook.

“Good service tonight,” he says back.

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”

“I heard,” he replies.

You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t.

“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile.

You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you.

“Hey!”

You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again.

“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively.

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you.

“Always, Carm.”

You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.

“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack.

“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.

You laugh.

“Is that even a real question?”

You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed.

Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant.

When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.

He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder.

“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.

“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”

“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.

“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”

A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop.

“Are you-?”

“Uh huh.”

You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara.

The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.

“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”

You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself.

He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had.

You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate.

“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.

You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil.

You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times.

“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him.

He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no.

You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta.

It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.

You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again.

No awkward tension of things left unsaid.

But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t.

“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen.

“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.

Your met with quiet as you continue your story.

“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs.

“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.

Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.

“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”

“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you.

He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.

After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.

“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks.

He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”

He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself.

Holy fuck, is it out of this world.

“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully.

He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.”

Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh.

“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs.

“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face.

“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.”

He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face.

Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?

Yeah. Yes, you are.

“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.

“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm.

And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin.

“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel.

I’ve really missed you.

“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now.

“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless.

He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that.

On your favorite fucking dish.

That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit.

That he only got them for you.

Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever.

That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt.

His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you.

It’s just you and him.

You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.

You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath.

“Carm?”

He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“This okay?”

Then the side of his top lip.

“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going.

Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been.

No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.

And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.

As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you.

Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now?

Now, could be different, if you’d let it.

Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”

His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it.

But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead.

With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you.

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently.

You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can.

You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off.

“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.

You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”

The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off.

He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body.

“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.

He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing.

“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.

Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.

It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”

You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is.

“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.

And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless.

Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”

He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off.

He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’

He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand.

You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care.

You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours.

He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you.

You both gasp at the feel of each other.

“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.

You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment.

“This okay?”

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts.

“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.”

And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts.

But you’re in desperate need for more.

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking move.”

Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much.

“Oh fuck!”

You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls – anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight.

You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you.

“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice.

“Hm?”

“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain.

You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips.

“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses.

“I think this is nice,” he manages to say.

“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.”

You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways.

“Are you gonna cum?”

Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse.

Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.

It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.

“That was-.”

“Yeah.”

You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had.

It feels… magnificent.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”

read: part five

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut

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caapsiizzereads · 9 months

Text

I got your heart skippin' when I'm gone

Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: language, author’s first attempt at writing🥴

A/n: yes, the title is, indeed, a Taylor reference.

A glass of champagne in your hand, you are standing in the company of Frank, your boss, and a few other of your colleagues, chatting about how good of a job they did at setting up today’s event. A bunch of compliments are also directed at you and Frank for all of the work you’ve done leading up to this. You know you’re great at your job, but moments like this really make you feel fucking good about yourself. At 26, you can proudly say that you are the Assistant Creative Director for one of the biggest jewelry brands in England. And today your company is celebrating the launch of their latest collection that you’ve been working really hard on. The past couple of months have been terribly busy, Frank and you practically living at work and surviving purely on caffeine. But now it’s finally over, and you can just relax, look pretty (“absolutely stunning,” actually, to quote Frank), and sip champagne, while people are singing you well-deserved praises.

The company’s event team really knew what they were doing too. Natalie, your friend from PR, had been very pumped for the night, rambling about all the famous people coming. You briefly went through the guest list, of course, but, honestly, you were more excited about the open bar. But if one of those guests just so happened to be lovely enough, you wouldn't mind indulging in some of that either.

An hour into the party, you were done with all the formalities, and you could switch from your neat glass of champagne to a drink more worthy of a Saturday night. You’re standing by the bar, looking at your phone, when you hear a question, seemingly directed at you.

“Can I get you a drink?” Looking at you, there’s a guy, around your age, dyed blonde hair, pretty face, really nice bone structure. His face looks familiar, but you just can’t remember why.

You give him an amused smile, “You know that they are free, right?”

“And how am I supposed to be chivalrous in these conditions?” he says theatrically.

“If buying a girl a drink is your definition of chivalrous, maybe you shouldn’t even try,” you say, your voice full of sarcasm, but still a smile on your face.

He chuckles lightly and smiles at you, “I’m Jamie.” Really pretty smile too.

“Y/n,” as a force of habit you offer him your hand to shake. The gesture seems to surprise him a little bit, but he goes with it anyway, shaking your hand lightly.

The two of you settle next to each other by the bar with an easygoing chatter. You’ve been talking for about 10 minutes, when Jamie says that he’s a football player, and it finally clicks for you.

“Oh my God.” You tilt your head down and cover your eyes with your hand in embarrassment. “You’re Jamie Tartt. You were in our campaign a few months ago. Fuck, I’m so sorry. My memory, like, resets once the campaign is done and it’s not my problem anymore.”

Jamie smiles almost shyly at your realization. “No, no, it’s fine! I’m sure you go through a lot of those, can’t remember everyone.” He definitely remembered you, though. Not that he’s gonna tell you that. And a part of him is even kinda relieved that you didn’t because–

“On second thought, I do remember you. You were, like, 40 fucking minutes late.” Yeah, that. You didn’t speak to him directly that day, but the look on your face was the most passive-aggressive thing he’d ever seen. Honestly, could give Roy a run for his money. Except that your version also looked kinda hot. But he still would rather not be at the receiving end of that glare ever again.

“I’m sorry! I underestimated the traffic,” he says awkwardly. And to think that this has been going well…

You take a sip of your drink, giving him an unimpressed look.

“I’m not getting invited again, am I?”

“Well, you are on my naughty list, but I wouldn't write you off that fast. You attract a nice audience of sports fans and sportsmen fans.” Jamie can swear you have just checked him out. “And you have a nice neck, you know, makes the necklaces look good. But that’s just my professional opinion.”

You said it in the most nonchalant way, but you might have just become the first person to make Jamie Tartt flustered. He decides to push his luck some more.

“And your personal opinion?”

“That you were 40 fucking minutes late,” you deadpan.

No luck, then.

“So,” Jamie perks up again at your attempt to keep the conversation going, “did you have a match earlier today? Or is it tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it was today.”

“How was it?”

A smug smile appears on his face, “We won, 3-1.”

“Well,” you raise your glass, “cheers to that.”

Jamie clinks his glass to yours, “Cheers.” You both take a sip of your drinks.

“So you’re not into football then?” Jamie asks, once you put down your glasses.

“Nope,” with a dramatic ‘p’. “Don’t take it personally. I’m not really into any sports,” you say blithely.

The conversation keeps flowing easily between you two. 30 minutes later, you are pretty sure that you are taking this man home with you tonight. Jamie seems genuine, in a cute kind of way, (mostly unintentionally) funny, attractive, obviously, and there’s something about him that you just know that he would be such a good time. 40 minutes later, you even consider letting him stay for breakfast. 45 minutes later, however, you start feeling a slight headache, but fuck if you will let it ruin your night, so you decide to just ignore it and hope it will take a hint and go away.

No such luck. The universe must truly hate you, because about an hour and a half into your conversation with Jamie you feel like someone is kicking your skull from the inside. You’ve tried to ignore it to the best of your ability, but this party suddenly isn’t any fun anymore. Fuck. Your. Life. You are aware that Jamie is saying something, his voice being a steady background noise, but you don’t have a clue what he just said because all you can focus on is a throbbing pain in your head. That’s when you know that you should just give up and go home.

Jamie notices your attention slipping away and your smile faltering as he speaks. Then you look away for a moment before looking back at him with a smile, saying that it was nice talking to him and wishing him a good night. You get up from your seat and start walking away before he can even process what has just happened.

You’re putting on your coat when you see Jamie quickly walking up to you with a concerned expression on his face. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

You don’t let him finish, “No, no, no! You’re good.” Jamie keeps looking at you with an obvious question on his face. “It’s just–,” you gesture at your head with a circling motion, “my head is fucking killing me. So I'm gonna go home, take some Ibuprofen and pray it goes away.”

Jamie’s face changes from concern to understanding. You think that this is it, so you turn to leave, but then he speaks up again. “I can give you a ride?” It was more of a question than a statement.

“No, it’s fine. Really. I’ll just get an uber.”

“It really is no problem. Come on,” he’s looking at you expectantly.

You think on it for a moment and give him an evaluating look. “I’m not inviting you in.”

“Oh. No! I didn’t mean it like that! I was really just–”

“Relax. I was just making sure you don’t have any false hopes.”

“Nope, no false hopes here.”

“Good,” you nod at him.

You walk to his car and Jamie opens the door for you. He sees you smiling at him approvingly.

“What?”

“See, now you’re being chivalrous,” you say playfully before getting in the car. Jamie closes the door after you and gives himself a moment to blush in privacy. After starting the car, he turns the volume on the radio all the way down and opens a window a little bit for you. You lean back in your seat and give him a small smile, “Thanks.”

Your talk on the way home consists mostly of you giving Jamie the directions and his attempts on small talk.

“Do you get them a lot?”

“No, not really. Only when it’s the least convenient apparently.”

“Maybe it’s because you–“

“If you’re about to say that it’s because I don't drink enough water, I'm jumping out of this car at full speed.”

Jamie’s mouth opens, closes, and opens again. “Actually, I was going to say…” he pauses again.

You raise your eyebrows at him, prompting him to go on.

“I was going to say… that it’s probably because of your hard work schedule, yeah. You know, having to deal with people being 40 minutes late and everything.” He throws a glance at you, checking if he’s managed to save the situation.

That makes you chuckle, despite the pain it causes. “You know what, I think you might be right.”

Soon, you’re parked by your building. “Thanks for the ride. It was really nice to meet you,” you say, before opening the car’s door.

“Yeah, you too,” he smiles at you.

Jamie spends another minute parked by your building. It’s only after you disappear from his view that he realizes that he hasn’t even gotten your number. He sighs and bumps his head against the steering wheel.

Meanwhile, you’re just glad to finally get your hands on some painkillers and flop on the couch, waiting for your head to stop throbbing. But an hour later, when you feel like a person again, your mind goes back to Jamie. You really liked him, huh. Hypothetically, you can look up the paperwork for the campaign he did, and his contact information should be there. Realistically, you should probably just let it go.

On Monday everything goes back to normal. After the workload that you had to deal with before the launch, the lack of a hundred points on your to-do list and constant burning deadlines almost feels like a vacation. And judging by the laid-back atmosphere at the office, you’re not the only one who feels this way.

You go out for lunch with Natalie, and after she’s done catching you up on all the fresh gossip, she can’t help but ask about your chat with Jamie Tartt. You tell her that’s exactly what it was, just a chat at the party.

She looks at you like she knows something you don’t. “That’s interesting. Because Keeley Jones, you know, from KBPR, called me earlier today to ask for your number.”

You give her a look that says “is this supposed to mean anything to me?”

Natalie dramatically rolls her eyes like it couldn’t be more obvious, “KBPR represents Jamie Tartt!”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Excuse me, have you seen yourself in that dress? I totally would ask for your number too.”

You smirk at her, “You have my number.”

“And now so does Keeley Jones. All I’m saying is, if you’re not interested, let him down easily. ‘Cause I'm totally planning on using him for more campaigns. Have you seen those hands?! They were meant to put rings on them. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you–”

You start cackling before she can even finish.

It’s just after 6pm and you’re getting in your car when your phone rings, you don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi! (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?”

“That’s me.”

“Hi! It’s Keeley Jones, from KBPR. Natalie gave me your number.”

“Right, she mentioned. How can I help you?”

“It’s more of a social call, actually. Jamie asked me to ask for your number. You know, Jamie Tartt, the footballer? He said you met at the brand party the other night.”

You smile to yourself, “Yeah, no, I remember him.”

“I was just gonna check if it’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks for asking me first, though.”

“Of course!”

Keeley then congratulates you on your launch, and you tell her that she should totally come to the next one.

Not even an hour later, another call, another unknown number.

“Yes?”

“Hi. It’s Jamie. Tartt. We met–”

“I know. Did you ask Keeley to ask Natalie for my number?” you ask teasingly.

“Maybe…? The alternative was to wait for you outside your building, but that would be creepy.”

“Yeah, better not do that.“

“Right. Uh, how’s your head?”

You chuckle at the question, “It’s fine.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“Mhm,” an amused smile is growing on your face.

“So… I was gonna ask, do you want to, I mean, if you’re not busy, maybe we could go out for dinner?” You can easily tell that he’s nervous, it’s quite cute actually.

“Alright,” the easiest yes you have ever said.

“Yeah?” Jamie wants to smack himself in the face for how hopeful that came out.

You chuckle again, “Yeah.”

“Cool. Uh, are you free tomorrow?”

“I can do tomorrow.”

“Fucking mint. I will pick you up? At seven?” You can hear the excitmenet in his voice.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he grins.

“See you tomorrow then,” and if you’re smiling then there’s no witnesses and no one will prove anything.

“Yeah, see you,” and if he’s grinning like an idiot then it’s no one’s business.

“Oh, and Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be fucking late.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso fic

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themultifandomgal · 1 year

Text

Jay- What Are You Doing?

I waddle to the precinct with some food for me and Jay to eat on his lunch break

"What on gods earth are you doing here?" Trudy asks crossing her arms

"I'm here to eat with Jay. Can you buzz me up please?"

"You should be at home"

"I've been at home for weeks. I'm bored" I moan at Trudy who sighs

"Alright alright" she picks up her phone "detective chuckles come and get your heavily pregnant wife before she goes into labour on my floor" I laugh as Trudy puts down the phone. In no time at all Jay is by my side and we make our way to the bullpen

"You should have stayed at home" he says with a hand placed on my lower back

"I can't stay home anymore. I've rearranged the furniture enough times"

"Your going to hurt yourself doing that" he scolds. We arrive in the bullpen where I'm greeted by everyone

"Aren't you meant to be on maternity leave?" Kim asks giving me a hug

"I am, but I'm bored and I needed some air"

"How long have you got left YN?" Antonio asks sitting at the edge of his desk with his arms crossed. Jay pulls out a chair for me to sit on

"Three weeks, but Natalie said because this is my first I could be late" I reply sitting down on said chair "now I'm starving so if you have more questions can they wait until I've eaten?" I open up the bag and grab a sandwich

"Gear up, I've just had intel about an armed robbery" Voight says walking out of his office "hello YN, good to see you. You can stay here until Jay gets back, take a nap or whatever while you wait"

"Thanks" I give a smile at Voight

"Ok let's move"

"See you in a bit" Jay bends now and kisses my forehead before he leaves for the locker room to get ready.

While they're all gone I have the urge to rearrange the break room. I'm now stood on a stool checking the dates of all the coffees and hot chocolates we have

"This is a pigs stye" I mutter to myself then start to laugh "ha pigs because were the police" I then start to hear chattering getting louder which means everyone's back. Quickly, but carefully, I get down and throw away anything out of date and put the chair back to where I got it from

"YN?" I hear Jay shout. I switch on the coffee pot to make it look like I'm making a drink

"In here" I call out. Jay walks into the break room and kisses my cheek

"What are you doing?"

"Making a drink"

"Coffee? But you can't have caffeine?"

"Babe I can have a little and I just fancied a coffee" lies. I've hated coffee since getting pregnant and Jay knows this

"Go sit down, I'll make you a drink" I nod my head and sit at the table. Jay opens the cupboard and takes out a tea bag and putting it into a cup. He pours some hot water in my cup then some milk and hands it to me "so what were you really up to?"

"Nothing" I give Jay a sweet smile. Adam walks into the break room and opens up the cupboard

"Where the hell is my coffee?" I turn around on the seat so I'm facing away from Adam

"YN what we're you doing?"

"Ok I may have sorted the cupboard out"

"Meaning you stood on a chair while being 9 months pregnant"

"No I magically grew" I sip my tea

"Did you throw my coffee?"

"It was out of date"

"Told you this nesting was a nightmare. She's been like it since she turned 7 months pregnant" Jay sighs "right finish your tea and I'll take you home"

"No Jay please just let me stay. I'll be on my best behaviour. I won't rearrange any furniture or climb on any chairs. Please I'm so bored at home"

"Fine, but you sit at your desk and play on your phone. You don't get involved in any cases"

"Yeah yeah" I roll my eyes and get up from the seat and waddle to my desk and sit down while everyone gets on with their work.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x yn #jay halstead x oc #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago pd

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carolmunson · 1 year

Text

once bitten, twice shy (pbv!steve x f!thick reader)

finally, we made it. been writing this since october with breaks in between. if you're new to the pbv!steve universe (which is just an incredibly wealthy big money version of steve), i'd recommend reading 'peanut butter vibe' first.

here, steve invites his thick hottie bestie (you, who we're calling natalie because i HATE 'y/n') to his office holiday party. this fic has everything: sugardaddy!steve, casual dominance, office sex, unrequited love, some guy named rob -- anyway, enjoy. warnings/content prev: piv sex (protected), fingering/oral (f receiving), mentions of oral (m receiving) some angst/unrequited feelings, casual dominance, light spanking, office sex, sort of a 'boss' kink?? idk what to call it, rich people behavior, snide comments about thick!reader but not really about her body, some body descriptions but nothing wild, mentions of clothing sizes, lots of fluff, steve is a hot hot hottie throughout. little christmas light dividers by @newlips

“Is it fancy?” you ask, “I don’t really have anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I’ll take you to get something tomorrow,” he insists.

“I can buy my own dress, Steve,” you sigh, he can hear the eye roll through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone in Indiana knows you can buy your own dress, Manhattan, we get it,” Steve’s eye roll is even more audible than yours, “But you only have to get one because I’m asking you to come to this party. Let me get it for you.”

“Steve,” you scold, “No.”

“I have to finish shopping anyway — don’t you still have to finish getting gifts for your niece? We can go to the mall, two birds one stone!” he quickly adds. He hopes the thought of your niece’s tiny toes in some new little socks or a cute little outfit will soften you up.

“The mall is going to be a mess, Steve. It’s the weekend before Christmas,” you complain.

“We can go to a boutique or something,” he counters, determined to get you in a dress so you had no reason not to go to this party.

“Boutiques in Indiana aren’t making dresses for girls like me, Harrington,” you laugh, he doesn’t. He’s quiet for a moment until you hear his signature aggravated sigh come through the ear piece.

“You can just say you don’t wanna come,” his voice sounds slightly sullen, “Just wanted to show you the office, since you won’t get a chance to see it after I move.”

“It’s not that I don’t wanna come, Steve,” you say softly, “It’s just..it’s what it implies.”

“It doesn’t have to imply anything! Can’t you just come have fun with me? It’ll be so fun, I promise!” there’s a mild whine to his claim and you have to stifle a laugh.

Breaking News in Indiana: Poor little rich boy wants his big booty Barbie to play with at a party — throws minor tantrum when he might not get what he wants! "Fine, fine, Jesus Christ," you tease, "You're so annoying when you get whiny."

"So I'll pick you up in the morning? Is nine okay?" he asks, voice back to his regular charm. "Yeah, that's fine," you start, "Wait, we're not taking the Porsche to the mall, are we?" "Uh, yeah?" he replies, confused, "Did you want me to take a different car?" "Ugh, Steve that's so tooly," you moan, "You're such a tool."

"I'm about to uninvite you," he huffs, "Do you want me to buy you something pretty tomorrow or--" "I can buy my own dress," you yell over him. He lets out another aggravated sigh. "Tomorrow, nine, in the Porsche," he says finally, you hear the click of the dial tone as soon as he finishes speaking.

The Porsche rolls up at 8:58 and he knows better than to honk the horn, lest he wake your sister's newborn. Instead, he parks and walks up to the porch of your sister's house; knocking on the door and waiting for you with his hands clasped behind his back. When the door opens, he's surprised to see your mom behind it. She smiles, big and warm. She looks familiar, definitely a face in the stands at basketball games because your older sister Carly was a cheerleader. She was a senior when you were both freshman, before Steve was King Steve. "Oh, hi. You must be Steven," she whispers, when the door opens further he spots your little niece propped up high on your mom's chest, "I'm Maureen. Come in, come in. S'way too cold to be standing out here." "Thanks, thank you," he smiles, the kind of smile that makes mom's melt. Steve takes a step inside and your mom steps back, patting the baby's back to burp her. He wipes his shoes on the welcome mat and undoes the buttons on his Hugo Boss wool coat. His cashmere scarf hung loosely over his shoulders down his chest. "I've heard so much about you. Nat should be out in a second," heat blooming in her cheeks, "Make yourself comfortable." Maureen disappears into the kitchen but he can hear the gurgles of your niece and your mom's little titters to her. He leans on the back of the couch, the house smells like you and his heart swells. So this is what it looks like when you go inside after he drops you off. This is where you go when you're not with him. It feels like a secret he's not supposed to know. "Oh, hi, you're in my house," his eyes snap up when he hears your voice. His teeth shine through his smile, he waves with a leather gloved hand. "Good morning," he says, his voice is low and warm. Your heartrate speeds up when he says it. It's awkward when you walk up to him, unsure if you should hug or kiss on the cheek. It's normally never awkward, but you're always meeting at the bar or in his car. He's never been so...available at the first greeting. You don't want to kiss in front of your mom because then she'll have questions. She already asks too many about Steve to begin with. He scans you, your white sweater and jeans, square toe brown boots on your feet. You reach for a black parka on the coat rack and a scarf that he recognizes as a polyblend. He makes a mental note to get you a cashmere one when you're not paying attention. "Good morning," you reply, shrugging the coat on and tossing the scarf around your neck sloppily. He walks towards you, tutting while he does, reaching out to flip your hair out from under the scarf. He readjusts the material so it lays neater against you, tucked in and under the jacket so you actually stay warm. "Gonna freeze if you don't wear it right," he sing songs, shaking his head while he works. "Okay dad," you roll your eyes, swatting his hands away when he goes to zip up your coat, "I can do it." You don't zip your parka up, instead you peek your head into the kitchen and whisper a quick goodbye to your mom and your niece. Maureen appears with the baby again and says a motherly goodbye and 'Merry Christmas' to Steve. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Maureen," he almost flirts, "Have a Merry Christmas." She winks at you when he turns towards the door, mouthing a very enthusiastic 'He's cute.'

You have half a mind to say, 'Yeah, he knows. That's what's so infuriating.' But you think it, instead. You opt to mouth a simple 'Stop,' at her before following him outside towards the car. "You're mom's so sweet," he says when he gets to the side walk from your porch, hand immediately coming out to support you down the icy steps, "Careful." "There's a railing," you explain, using him for support, "It's there so I don't fall." "Well, you're holding my hand anyway, so," he shrugs. You bristle at his coolness, always so slick even when it's innocent. He's so hateable, it's almost unfair how excited he makes you. "As I was saying," he starts again when you make it to the end of the stairs, "Your mom's so nice." "Maureen? Yeah, she's a sweetie," you agree when you get the passenger door. He reaches past you to open it, and in doing so has you chest to chest with him. He lingers there for a moment, looking at you down the slope of his nose. He cocks his head, eyes a little hard, lips pulling into a smirk. "So what happened to you, then?" he teases, lips dangerously close to yours. You catch your mom peaking out of the living room window and sink down into the open door onto the leather seat. "Shut up," you huff, "You're not funny." "I'm so funny," he corrects, shutting the door, appearing on the drivers side moments later. "The stores don't open for at least an hour," you say, buckling into the seat, "Why'd you wanna leave so early?" "Thought we could get breakfast first," he shrugs, looking your over in the passengers side. He bites his lip, eyes flitting from your thighs to your face, "You look nice."

"It's nine in the morning Harrington, keep it in your pants," you shove his shoulder and he grins while he puts his attention back on the road, pulling forward away from the sidewalk. "It's 9:07 actually," he says, aloof, hand resting on your inner thigh once he had his bearings on the road infront of him, "You're so warm." "Perks of big thighs, I guess," you shrug, "You're wearing gloves though, I think that helps." "Nah, your thighs are just warm," he grins again, "Haven't had to buy ear muffs for the last five years cause'a them."

"You're so gross," you turn to him as you say it, exasperated. The car rolls to a stop at a redlight and he turns to look at you. "I'm so gross, huh?" he asks, leaning in. His hand floating from your thigh to under your chin. The leather is smooth on your skin, you can smell his cologne as he moves closer, "S'that why you want me to kiss you so bad?" "I think you wanna kiss me so bad," you tease back. His lips catch yours, fingers gently wrapping around your jaw as they do. The leather sinks into your full cheeks, flush from the cold and the way his mouth fits against yours. His nose bumps your cheek and your ungloved hand finds his, you can feel the smoothness from his shave this morning. Smell his moisturizer, his shaving cream. Taste the mint from his mouth wash in your mouth. A soft hum leaks from your chest and you feel him smile into the kiss before he breaks away, the light turning green against the white cloudy sky. "You're right, I did wanna kiss you so bad," he admits. His hand falls right back on your thigh, hitting the gas to pull onto the highway.

You'd been at it for a couple of hours now, store after store, the mall littered with families and screaming children. "We can go to the west wing. I don't know why you keep avoiding it," he chides. He puts all the shopping bags you've both already accumulated into the hand furthest from you, offering you the empty one. You take it, your other hand empty since he wouldn't let you carry your own bags. "That's the nice part of the mall," you say, "I don't want to spend that much on a dress for one night."

"Then it's a good thing you're not spending any money on it," he smiles. "Steven," you chide, "Enough, pl--" "Don't use that voice with me. I told you a thousand times I want to get you something pretty. So we're getting you something pretty," he urges, "Let's go." The west wing has all the fancy stores in it. Luxury brands, far stretches from Kay Jewelers and JC Penney. You aren't sure if they even carry your size in stores like this, but maybe you'll be surprised. It's not long before he has you in a dressing room, working with the attendants and tossing dress after dress in behind the curtain. Steve sits on one of the waiting area couches with the rest of the men. Your purse and coat is on his lap, the shopping bags resting between his feet. You poke your head out after the fourth dress, looking for an attendant but they're all busy. He notices your nervous face and waves to get your attention. "Need help?" he asks. You flush. "Can you get this zipper for me? It's not a side zipper so I can't reach," you ask. He nods, slinging your purse over himself with the cross body strap, asking the guy next to him to watch the bags with a quick 'Would you mind, chief? Thanks a million.' He comes up to the curtain and sees the front of the dress, red bursting to his cheeks, tinging his ears, "Good fucking lord." "Oh stop it," you blush back. You turn around and zips up the dress, some resistance meeting at the top. You walk closer to the mirror and inspect yourself, scrunching your face at your reflecting. "You don't like it?" he asks with a frown. "It's just not me," you shrug, "It's a little tight, and I don't want to be thinking about that the whole time, y'know?"

He nods, looking over his shoulder to see a dress on the 'put away' rack, dark green and off the shoulder. The style a mix between Herve Leger and vintage Dior. "Ma'am," he calls out when he sees an attendant walk by, "Would you mind pulling that dress for me? The green one?" She scans her hand over the rack and points at it, reading out the size. "That's perfect, actually," he smiles, that winning Harrington smile that makes the girls melt, "Thank you." "You're very welcome," she says sweetly, posture straightening when she brings it over. You peak back out and he turns you around to start the zipper down on the number you'd just tried on. "You look so good in green, try this one," he says, passing it to you, "Very Hawkins High." You hold it up in front of you and consider, it's a bodycon but still somehow classic looking. A velvet piece that you wouldn't have picked out yourself. "Hm, okay, I'll try it," you say, turning to him with a furrowed brow, "Now get out, perv." He smiles, closing the curtain carefully and retreating back to the couches, "Thanks for watching the bags, man." The guy smiles, "Us husbands gotta look out for each other, right?"

Steve bites his lip in a toothy grin, nodding, "Yeah, for sure."

"How long you been married?" he asked. "Few years," he lies, it's fun to lie when people have asked about you before. He'd get comments every now and again at Porter's, have chats with bar stoll warmers about you like you'd been together forever. "Few years? You look like babies," he laughs, the gray smattered in the man's hair shines in the pristine white lights of the store. "When you know, you know," Steve shrugs. The man nods, "They do say that, don't they? Well, I'll give ya a little advice. Fifteen years down the line, here -- they aren't lying when they say 'happy wife, happy life'. So just, y'know, do whatever she says and you're golden." "Great advice, honey," a woman's voice coo's above them. Steve sees her Vivienne Westwood shoes first, head tilting up to see a very expensive woman in front of him. She has a few dresses in her hand that he immediately stands up and takes from her. "Merry Christmas, kid," he says while they head out, the wife nods toward Steve in acknowledgement and he gives them a small wave. "Oh Steve, this is it, this is the one," you say, stepping out of the dressing room with the dress in your arm, the 'no's' in the other. His shoulders slump, "You didn't even let me see it."

"It'll be a surprise. You'll see it tomorrow night," you smile. He instinctively gets up and takes the dresses you don't want to hang up them for you on the rack. You exchange them for your purse and jacket, scarf previously abandoned in a shopping bag. "You all set to go? You have any other shopping you wanna do?" you ask.

"Hmm," he thinks, "Let's stop by jewelry first."

"Something for your mom?" you ask, putting your parka back on. "Something for you," he says, "To go with that dress."

"No, no, I have jewelry at home. I'll ask my mom if I can borrow something," you wave your hand off at him while you walk out of the dressing area and back into the store together. "Hey, hey," he shushes you, raising his neck to look into your eyes, "Let me spoil you a little, okay?"

"You already got me a new scarf and gloves," you say earnestly, "It's too much, Steve."

"You needed a new scarf and gloves," he says knowingly, "Let's get you a necklace to go with that dress, hm? You need shoes, too?" "I'm drawing the line at shoes," you warn, putting your purse over yourself while you walk through the beauty section, "I brought plenty of shoes with me."

He shrugs, "Suit yourelf."

Monday night comes quicker than expected, but you'd stayed the night at Steve's after shopping, only to wake up in the late morning with him the next day. You'd been up late fucking mercilessly wrapping gifts with each other, teaching him how to curl ribbon, watching him fold wrapping paper with obscene precision. The only reason you went home is because he had to go into the office to finish up some reports. You arrive around seven-thirty, a little late but still there, heels clicking on the marble floor of the lobby -- and there he is, waiting for you behind the turnstyles to the elevators -- suit jacket fitting him almost criminally.

"Fashionably late?" he teases, opening the side gate to let you through to him, "Everyone thinks my date stood me up."

"Oh, I'm sure your secretary will be so disappointed to know I'm here," you joke back.

"I don't fuck my secretary," he shakes his head, hitting the call button, "I fuck Rob's secretary. God, do you ever listen to me when I talk?"

Rob, Steve's work nemesis.

"Oh forgive me, there's so only many office flings I can keep up with," you say, stepping into the elevator. You take off your scarf from under your coat, revealing the necklace Steve bought you at the mall. He smiles to himself, seeing your adorned by his gifts. The scarf, the necklace, the gloves. He's excited to see the dress, it's all he thought about today. When you get the floor of the party, you wince a bit at the noise. It's rowdy, a lot of the men are already drunk. And boy is it, fancy. Men in suits, women is cocktail dresses in sky-high heels, hair in big blowouts with glowing gold and silver jewelry. You're suddenly thankful for the necklace Steve bought you. You'd been around your fair share of fancy in New York, but never really living it outside of your own work holiday parties. Sometimes you forget that this is Steve's day to day. "The actual offices are the next floors up, this is just our meeting hall. They really go all out, huh?" he smiles, "Let me bring you to coat check." On the walk to coat check you scan the room, it's decked out in gold and red. Ten foot Christmas trees sit in every corner, draped in garland, ribbon, and tinsel. Lights leaving a soft glow out of the floor to ceiling windows of the room. Intricately placed curtains of warm white christmas lights hang from the ceiling, dress the walls and windows. The room is a halo, glowing and warm. In the center of the room is the open dance floor, flanked by tables covered in white cloths -- drinks already littering them. Speakers boom top 40 and Christmas music, chatter and laughter booms over it.

"Here, let me get it," he says when you reach the coat check area, a little set up of a few racks with a sweet woman at a table, writing out tickets for you to keep track of for the end of the night. He undoes the buttons of your coat and you shrug it off slowly. His eyes round and he gulps, mouth going dry at the sight of you.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out, pulling your coat back over you, "You can't be serious rigt now."

"What?" you ask, suddenly self concious, "Does it look bad?"

"No, oh my god, no, it's..." he pulls your coat away again and sucks in a sharp intake of breath, "If I knew you were gonna look like this, I wouldn't have let you wear it here. Can't have everyone looking at you when you're here with me."

He looks you over, the way your breasts sit in the sweetheart neckline, how tightly it clings to your curves, the shape of your hipes, the outline of your belly in the fabric. He licks his lips, knowing he's not strong enough to see you from the back just yet.

"God damn," he shakes his head, "You're gonna kill me." "Well, you look very handsome too," the compliment is genuine but it doesn't register for him. He's busy looking at your glossed lips, the necklace places perfectly above your chest, the smell of your perfume. He licks his lips and your words finally hit him, so does the feeling of the fabric of your coat in his hands. "Th-thank you," he smiles, "Thanks." He checks your jacket and gives the lady at the table a $20 even though the coat check is free. Waiters walk around with hor d'ourves and drinks and he reaches for the champagne flutes, nodding to you to see if you want one. "It's kind of chilly, is there coffee or anything?" you ask, running your hands over your arms. "There's hot toddy's," he says, "They're by the bar but you don't like whiskey."

"I can pretend to like it for right now," you smile, he smiles back, placing his champagne flute on a table that he'd been sat at earlier, your name card placed on the seat next to him. He takes your hand and leads you to the bar, running his own hands over arms to warm you up while you wait behind a small line of people.

"This is pretty," you tell him, "Looks like everyone is having a good time."

"Half of these guys have been drinking since four," he laughs a little, "I'd hope they're having a good time."

"Oh, Harrington, is this her?" you hear a gruff voice ask. Steve's arm sling protectively around your waist at the sound. "This is she," he says back, he presents you like a trophy to him. His best Vanna White while he scans a hand over you to show you off. "Rob Delaney," he smiles, a smile that rivals Steve's, and offers his hand. He is devilishly handsome, no wonder Steve hates him so much, "You must be the girl that's got Harrington running to the big city."

"I think it's the pay raise that has him running to the big city, but thank you," you giggle, shaking his hand. It's a firm shake, a businessman's shake. You feel the chill of his gold pinky ring brush against your skin. "Pretty thing like you got a name?" he flirts, you feel Steve pull you closer, his hand splaying at the curve of your waist. Your face heats up at the feeling, knowing he doesn't like sharing you even though you weren't his to begin with. "Natalie," you smile. "Natalie," he repeats, giving you a once over, "Pretty name for a pretty girl." "Well, thank you," you say politely, letting go of his hand. He puts his own in his pants pocket, smiling at the both of you. "It's nice to meet you. Save me a dance, will ya?" he smirks when he asks.

"Don't know how free I'll be for a dance, Delaney," Steve replies with a tight voice, ffingers digging into the velvet of your dress, "She's kinda got me tied up all night. Maybe next time." Rob nods, biting back at snicker before walking away with his drink. "See, angel, this dress is dangerous," Steve says in your ear, you hold back from having your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling of his voice in your chest. He orders your hot toddy and a whiskey on the rocks for himself, you nurse it slowly back to the table -- the drink is strong and the food here is light. You feel lucky you ate dinner before you left or else this night would've been ten times more dangerous than the dress you were wearing.

An hour and two hot toddies later and you're chatty at the table with Steve's work friends. He glows while he watches you, the way you are able to blend in so seamlessly with everything. Like you've known these people longer than he has.

"And so I'm still on the phone after he puts me on hold for thirty minutes," you continue through gasps and giggles, the whole table is crying with laughter, "And -- and he comes back and is like, "Oh ma'am, I'm so sorry. Did you say L'Oreal? I thought this was the Oriole's marketing office!"

The table erupts in laughter, feet stomping, glasses clinking while men bang on the table. The women dab tears away with their napkins. Business talk, business jokes. Two big kids in their parents clothes again, at a fancy office party that they don't need to go to.

"Oh god," Steve's co-worker says, face red with liquor and laughter, "That is fuckin' marketing for you. I'm gonna go get a drink, you all want another round?" The group at the table nods, but Steve waves off a no for both of you. 'Last Christmas' flows through the speakers and some people have found their way to the dance floor. He takes the hand resting on your lap and gives it a light squeeze to get your attention. "Hey," you say, turning towards him.

"Hey," he says back, thumb brushing your skin, "You wanna dance with me?" You blush, nodding when he stands up. He's almost too charming, who are you to say no to him.

“Happy Christmas, I wrapped it up and sent it — with a note saying I loved you, I meant it —” Steve mouthed along with the words dramatically, guiding you to the dance floor on gliding backwards feet. His hips swayed expertly — surprising since he didn’t strike you as much of a dancer. You saw him at many a homecoming dance, he was not incredibly impressive in the 80s.

“Now I know, what a fool I’ve been, but if you kiss me now, I know you’d fool me again,” he sings along softly while he pulls you into him. His hand presses against your lower back until you’re chest to chest, hips against his hips, holding your other hand outside the both of you. Your face burns in the low light, noticing the other couples on the dance floor — women with engagement rings and wedding bands, women introduced as ‘my girlfriend _____’ who would be fiancés soon.

“When did you get so good at dancing?” you ask, looking up at him.

“This year to save me from tears — been going to a lot of weddings — give it to someone special,” he explained through his soft singing, “Got good at dancing so I could pick up bridesmaids. What about you?”

You scoff at his answer before answering yourself, "I was always a good dancer, Steve."

"How was I supposed to know?" he shrugged. Hair falls in his face when he leans forward to brush his nose against yours, his tell that he wants to kiss you.

"Should've danced with you at prom," he mumbles, resting his forehead down on yours.

"I didn't go to prom," you smile, moving your head on his chest, "Wasn't really my thing." His hand travels from your lower back to just below your shoulder blades, holding you while you both sway in time with the music.

"What'd you do instead?" he asks, you can't help but giggle and he can feel it in his chest.

"Ugh, it's embarrassing," your face burns while you nuzzle into the lapel of his jacket.

"It was years ago, c'mon," he urges, “Tell me.”

You look up at him and scrunch your nose, “I let Eddie Munson take my V-card that night.”

Steve gasps, you want to punch him in his perfect teeth.

“Right on his stained mattress at his uncle's,” you laugh and scrunch your nose harder.

“Oh, no…” he laughs, a twinge of jealously plucks in his chest, “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”

“I mean he was a different kind of freak for me,” you shrug and Steve presses you even closer, feeling your breats and tummy squish against him. Warm and soft.

“Any good?” he asks, trying to make it casual. But even if it was so long ago, he had to know. "Good for seventeen," you shrugged, "And eighteen, and nineteen, and twenty. Then Corrded Coffin took off and he left."

"So you kept fucking him when you'd come back for breaks?" he laughs.

"It's a long winter break, Harrington," you explained, "I had a life before you, y'know."

"Yeah, but, was it a good one?" he squints when he asks, so you know he's joking. You roll your eyes at him, anyway. While George Michael wails, Steve can't help himself while looking at you in the low light. His body so close to yours he could barely breathe correctly. His hand skates up the the top of your back to your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that only both of your lips understand. Sharing secrets with eachother through clicks of spit, soft breaths, and swipes of tongue. If it weren't for the hot toddies, you'd never let him kiss you like this with people around. When you break away, he's breathless. "You look so good tonight," he confesses, the hand holding yours leaving to meet your cheek, "Can't stop lookin' at you." "Well thank you for the dress," you smile, "It's all you."

"Fits you like a glove," he smirks, "No lines or anything."

You blush but he can't tell, "Well I'm not wearing anything under this so that's why."

Steve chokes, sputtering, astounded at how you can say that to him so casually. The whole time he's had his hands on you, it's only been this flimsy velvet fabric keeping him from feeling your skin. All night you've been naked under this -- and you're just telling him now?

"Uh -- um," his voice cracks, "Do you uh, um, you wanna see my -- um, my office?" "I don't know, is it interesting?" you ask with a laugh. His hands skate down to your ass, the whiskey in your system tells you its okay when he lets his palms roam the mass of it. "Can make it so interesting for you," he says, lips brushing yours, "So, so interesting."

His hands and lips are on you the moment you step into the elevator and the doors close. His tongue runs a flat stripe over your collar bone, over the twenty four karat gold chain around your neck, following your jugular until he gets to your job.

"Your quarterly review came in," he murmurs in your ear, hand skating up your dress to tease you. Fingers brushing over your inner thighs, creeping slowly upward while you whine, "It's abysmal."

The doors ding open and he pulls you by the hand down the hall to the corner office. The windows show off the Indianapolis skyline, buildings glittering from floor to ceiling. There were packing boxes littered around, leather chairs and a couch cross from his desk for meetings. A bar cart left abandon in the corner with a large oak desk in the center. "Abysmal?" you reply innocently while he shuts the door behind you, "Does that mean I'm gonna get fired?"

He finally gets a good view of you from behind and bites his fist bringing the other hand down hard with a loud CRACK! against your ass. He smirks to himself with you yelp. "It might," Steve sinks down into the chair behind his desk, beckoning you over with a finger.

“Wanna keep your job?” he asks with a sly smirk, the authority building in his chest.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington," you playfully whisper. "Then show me," he sighs, reaching for his belt. The clink of the metal on the buckle being undone sent a shiver through you. He stayed relaxed in his office chair, pulling out his length to pump it lazily in his fist.

"Don't be such a tease," he scolds while you stand there, gaping at his cock, feeling behind you to twist the lock on the door.

"Steve! You can't just -- you're at work!" you gasp, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

"You just locked the door," he shrugged, "They're all downstairs, c'mon just -- please, come suck my dick. It's already out."

“You’re insane,” you laugh, “We have to go back out there eventually, Harrington.”

“I promise I won’t mess up your makeup,” he pleads, a soft grunt escaping his lips while he quickens his pace on his cock.

“So, I suck your dick,” you start, walking slowly back towards his desk, “And what do I get?”

“Baby, in that dress, you can have anything you want,” he gasps as he runs his thumb over his leaking tip, watching your hips sway while you continuing your slow strut toward him.

“Want me to fuck you instead?” he asks, “God, fuck, bend over the desk. I’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

“Very forward, Mr. Harrington,” you coo, slowly reaching for the hem of your dress, “Can I keep my job if I let you fuck me?” "Keep your job?" he pants while you bend over in front of him, hem slowly rising over your thighs, "Give you the whole--whole fucking c-company." Your dress slips over the curve of your ass, legs taught and flexed while balancing your weight on your tall heels.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers while he stands, still fucking his fist while he does it, "Your body's just...shit, you're so...I wish you could see how you look."

He clumsily reaches for the middle drawers on the side of his desk, hastily fishing into a half empty box of condoms. You can't stifle the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, "How many people are you fucking in here, Steve?"

"Shh, just shut up," he huffs while he quickly works the latex over his shaft. "Well excuse me," you murmur, bracing yourself while he puts one hand on your hip. The other dips between your legs, pressing against your entrance. "You nice and wet for me?" he asks gently, soaking his fingers in his mouth and coating your opening with a mix of your slick and his spit. "Y-yeah," you say breathily, rocking back onto his hand. Steve smirks, feeling your walls puff and twitch as his touch. You feel his length slide between your thighs, hand guiding his tip to drag across your folds, parting them as he pushes in just an inch or two. You hiss at the intrustion, you were wet but not relaxed. The let downs of not having enough time for foreplay. He runs a calming hand down your back over your dress. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he soothes, "I'll go slow." You feel his hips slowly pull out and push in again, coaxing your walls to start accomdating him. You part your legs a little, the arch in your back matching the porn stars in 'SLUTS AND CEOS XXX' videos you were sure Steve had seen before. Slickness builds between your legs while he pushes his hips in and out again, more and more of his length getting sucked in. You hear him groan when it gets all the way to the hilt.

"So tight..." he grumbles. It was almost uncomfortable for him, he knew you were turned on enough, "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, sort of," you nod, wincing, "Hurts a little."

"Sorry," he apologizes again while running a hand through his hair, "Lemme...hm..." You hiss again when he pulls out, looking back to see him get to his knees while his hands grip your thighs. Steve just goes for it. His tongue immedately making contact with your entrance. "Steve, oh..." your eyes roll back when he parts your lips with his thumbs, tongue gliding forward to your clit while his fingers find home inside of you. "There we go," he chuckles darkly, "Did she just need a little somethin' extra from me?" "Oh, shit, that's so good," you whisper, covering your mouth to stop your whimpers escaping from under his office door. His fingers pumped like pistons inside of you, teasing your g-spot just enough to get you dripping down your thighs. "Think it'll be okay now?" he asks, his hand meeting your hip while he gets back to full height. "Mhm," you gulp when you feel his head push in, and then the rest of him. Much easier this time around. "Fuuuuck, me," he groans, his hips rolling in steady thrusts against you. You cover your mouth harder, moans caught in your throat, in your palm, threatening to ricochet of the high ceilings of his office. "Better, baby? That feel good?" he asks, his voice clouded behind breathy grunts. You were still tighter than normal, and while that was great, he'd fucked you enough times to know when something wasn't working. "Really good, Steve," you whine through gritted teeth. His speed picks up, the skin of his thighs clapping loudly against the backs of yours. Steve's thrusts are shallow, hitting deeper and deeper until you're on the toes of your heels. "Look--oh fucking fuck--Look back at me," he pleads, "Wanna see you." You oblige and he sighs at the sight of you, reaching forward to move your hair away from you, "So pretty for me."

Steve never looked at the girls he was fucking in his office. It was always just to get off, to feel good after a rough meeting. To let off some steam after his underlings fucked up yet another sale. New secretaries, mail girls, office assistants, you name it -- all he had to do is wink and they'd be bent over his desk by lunch. "I'm close," he admits with a blush, "S'just...mmm fuck, s'what you do to me." "That's okay," you smile, his hand reaching forward again to touch your face. "Been hard since you fuckin'--oh shit, Christ--since you got here," his brows are furrowed while he watches you. Swollen wet lips letting out soft moans while he pumps into you. God, he'd do anything to keep you like this -- wet and ready for him. You catch his hand, pressing kisses to his fingertips, eyeing him mischeviously while you do it.

"D-don't, you're gonna m-make me---" he warns, another groan taking over while you slip his first and middle finger into your mouth. Sucking expertly, your lipstick smearing on his knuckles. "J-just need s-something in your mouth, hm?" his face contorts, brows furrowing while he clamps his eyes down. Whatever authority he had in his voice falls into boyish whines when your tongue swirls between his fingers. It's a sensation he didn't know he'd like so much, having his fingers sucked on while he was buried inside you. Something about the warm wetness of your mouth. The dirtiness of it. The way you'd wink at him while you did. He took his fingers out with a sharp inhale of breath, trying to stave off his orgasm. Instead, he uses them to wrench your hair back, your chest arching off the desk. The sound of your cry would definitely be heard a few doors down if anyone else was around. You involuntarily clench down on him, gushing. "Oh I see, you want me to be a little mean?" he asks against your neck, open palm coming down against your ass again, "Put you in your place?"

"In my p-place? Please. I thought I was getting the whole c-company?" you ask slyly, turning back to face him against the hold in your hair, "Isn't that what you promised...?"

You raise your eyebrows at him, mocking his own approach to the edge, mouth gaping. "Isn't that what you p-promised, Mr. Harrington?"

He gasps, hips stuttering while his grip in your hair slacks and clutches your shoulder. Gutteral groans flow from his throat, a string of expletives pour from his mouth. Gasps of phrases like, "My little office whore...fucking Jesus, my perfect girl...Pretty -- oh god -- pretty baby..." Steve slows his thrusts to nothing, heaving his breaths until they steady and leaning forward to rest his forehead on your back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "You didn't..." "I didn't," you shake your head, "But it's okay."

"It's not okay," he says while pulling out, carefully removing the condom and tossing it in the trash can under his desk. "Gross, Steve," you admonish, standing up. You adjust your dress while turning to face him and he frowns, "Someone has to clean that up."

"Don't put your dress down, let me --" he reaches for the hem, but you stop him.

"Steve, it's fine. We have to go back downstairs, they're gonna know you're missing," you smile while you say it, "They're loving you down there."

"I'll make it up to you later," he promises, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "Wake up all the neighbors when we get home tonight."

"Whatever you say, Harrington," you roll your eyes while you get to the door, clicking the lock. You both make your way to the bathroom when you leave his office, making quick work of cleaning up. He waits for you against the wall across from the door, your purse in his hand. "Hi," he smiles, when you exit, "Missed you."

You scoff, reaching for your purse and fishing out a compact to touch up your lipstick and powder. He walks next to you while you touch up, arm slinging around your waist while he does.

"You're gonna make me mess it up," you say, swiping a line of color over your lips. "I already messed it up back there," he shrugs while the elevator doors ding open, "What's a second time?" He pushes you up against the elevator wall when the doors close behind you, "Or a third time?" You hum into his kiss, hungry and touchy, feeling yourself swell between your legs.

Another drink and an hour on the dance floor later and you're back at the table while the guys chat with cigars on the opposite side of the room. Steve stands with a hand in his pocket, cocky and confident, while he talks with his work friends -- you're sure about something he doesn't really care about. Mergers and acquistions.

"He sent Rob's secretary three dozen roses as a goodbye gift," one of the women at the table behind you said to another. "Oh, you know he just did that to piss him off," her friend replied, "Muffy told me she doesn't even like him like that. It's all been for fun."

"He told her to come visit him in New York any time," she shrugged, "But he stopped sleeping with her earlier this month cause he said he's got himself a girl in the city."

"Can't believe he's going to New York for some girl," she complains, "He stopped flirting with everyone. But you know what? Good riddance, he's fucking boring now. Hot but boring." "It's not the girl he brought tonight, right?" the other woman asks, "That's gotta be a friend from school or something. She's not very New York looking, pretty home grown if you ask me."

It doesn't bother you, but your shoulders tense a little. In your own little world with Steve was one thing, but to hear people confirm your slight fears about what the future could hold was another. You couldn't deny the sinking feeling in your chest every time you remembered he was moving to New York. Moving into your life in a way you'd never had him before. Disrupting the whole life you built there by yourself, a place you've been able to call home without anyone from your real home to bother you. 'Got himself a girl', since when? Weren't you just having fun? Before you can get too lost in your thoughts, he's coming towards you with your coats in his arms, holding yours out in front of him. "You wanna get outta here, baby?" he asks, there's a slight slur to his words that makes you laugh. "Sure," you smile. You hear a soft 'Oh, shit,' come from the table behind you. "You need me to find a phone to call for a car?" you ask him. He shakes his head, "No, they'll call one for us downstairs." You put on your coats, led around for a flurry of goodbyes before heading back into the elevator to the lobby. He takes your hand immeidately, leading you to the front desk to ask for a car before taking you outside to wait. "You have fun?" he asks, pulling you in to hold you, protecting you from the cold. "Oh, a lot of fun," you smile, "You brought your dancin' shoes, for sure." "Had to, since you're so nice to dance with," he smiles, hands dropping from your arms to laces fingers with yours. You smile, but he notices there's something off about it, not as genuine, "You okay?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, fine," you shake your head, "Just thinkin'."

"Yeah, I've been thinkin' too and um..." he starts, looking down, brows furrowing, "Thinking about you and uh--"

"What did you mean the other night, on the phone? When you said 'It's what it implies'?" he asks, thumb gliding idly against your gloved hand. One of his co-workers came bumbling through the revolving door, eyes glazed over with the buzz of alcohol. You dropped his hand before whoever this was could register it, embarrassment buzzing through you. If the women were talking about you, you couldn't imagine what the men were saying.

"Hey man, goodnight -- good to see you and uh -- yeah g-good luck if oh, shit I'm so fucked up dude -- good luck if I don't see you," he slurred, pulling Steve in for a hug. "Thanks, Jack. Easy there, buddy," Steve rolled his eyes at you from over his shoulder before he let go, "You're not driving tonight, right?"

Jack shakes his head and laughs, leaning against are large stone sqaure pillar. His eyes semi-follow the figure of a beautiful woman in a maroon dress pushing through the revolving door.

"Jack, let's go," she calls, like a mother to a son. She waves him over with her clutch, engagement ring glinting in the buildings facades.

"That's my ride," he smiles, stumbling over to her. They take eachother's hand and she offers an apology over her shoulder, saying goodnight to Steve and smiling at you.

"Sorry about that,” Steve says apologetically, reaching for your hand again, “You we’re saying.”

“Just that,” you stuttered, unable to find the right words to say to explain it, “I don’t know Steve. I’m not like — I don’t — This isn’t — ugh..”

“Take your time, Manhattan,” he teases. You don’t want to hurt him, especially not when he smiles at you like that.

“Bringing me here,” you start, “In this dress you bought me, in this necklace. Dancing with me, taking me to your office. It’s making people think we’re together.”

“Are we not?” Steve asked, his brows furrowing, “Cause I thought that — like, we talked about — have you been sleeping with other people?”

“No, Steve, I haven’t,” you shake your head, keeping your voice calm, “But I’m not going around telling people that you’re my boyfriend.”

Steve’s face drops a little, some pink rising in his cheeks that isn’t coming from the cold, “Oh.”

“I thought you liked me,” Steve confessed, “That you, y’know — that you wanted me. That you liked me the way I like you.”

“I do like you, Steve,” you tell him, your hand resting on his chest, “But what if this isn’t what you really want? What if this is just fun for now?”

"I mean, I -- I uprooted my whole life for you," Steve argues, "I'm moving to New York in a week and a half."

"I didn't ask you to do that for me. You wanted to do something new," you calmly explained back, "I said I thought it would be a good idea."

"You said we could try it for real..." his voice got weak, caught in his throat. Steve's amber eyes rounding while he looks at you, how the street lights dance across the jewelry he bought you, the gloss on your lips.

"When you got there," you corrected, "And what if you get there and that's not what you want anymore? There's a lot to offer guys like you in the city, Steve. It's a totally different world than the one I'm living in."

"I can bring you into it with me," he pleads, hands sneaking under your coat and finding your waist.

"Steve..." you say knowlingly, your shoulders sinking. Your fingers reach up and brush his hair out of his face, delicately following the line of his cheek.

"Nat, please, I..." his voice trails off when he realizes what he's about to say. You watch his Adam's apple bob while he swallows the words.

"Don't say it," you whisper softly, shaking your head, "You don't mean it."

A cab finally pulls in, and you take a glance at it over your shoulder. "I'm gonna go home, okay?" you ask. You turn to pull out of his hold, but he pulls you in desperately.

"Natalie..." disappointment soaks your name when he says it, "Just -- c'mon. We can forget this whole conversation. Please, come home with me."

You shake your head no.

"Please?" he begs, pulling you a little closer to him, "Please?"

You lean in to kiss him, taking him all in. His cologne, the way his lips taste, the way he moves his hands from your waist to your jaw. He wants to keep you there forever, pausing his life for however long it took to get bored of how our lips feel against his. He doesn't think there's a time when he will.

You break away when the cab beeps, brushing your nose against his like he does to you, "I had a really nice time."

"Me too," Steve kisses your forehead, swallowing the lump in his throat when he accepts that you're not staying the night, "Call me a little later? So I know you made it in okay?"

"Of course," you promise. It hurts to look at him like that, tears shining in his eyes that he’s trying to blink away.

“Goodnight Steve,” you smile with your lips closed, afraid that if you open them you’ll never stop talking about all the things you’re afraid to talk to him about.

“Night,” he says while you turn to hurry towards the cab. As it drives away, you see him wipe at his nose and shake his head, crossing his arms tightly around himself to protect him from the cold now that you weren’t there to keep him warm.

Steve watches the cab leave with a lump in his throat, sniffling hard enough that the cold air burns the back of his throat. There's no way in hell you don't love him back, he thinks. There's no fucking way. When the red lights from the back of the cab disappear onto the city streets he turns back into the lobby, Last Christmas plays again softly over the speakers like it's mocking him. The tinny layments bouncing off the marble floor and back into his ears, down to his chest where his heart thumps painfully. Rob, and his secretary Muffy, stumble out of the elevator bank drunk with giggles and empty champagne flutes. He catches Steve walking towards the security desk and lets out a hearty laugh. "You goin' home alone Harrington?" he asks with a grin, "Shoulda let me know, would've brought your friend along. Three's company, huh?" Steve's jaw ticks but he ignores him, letting the gush of cold air soothe over his mixture of sadness and frustration while Muffy and Rob open the door. His shoes click on the marble as he approaches the desk, the music taunts him as he does it. 'A face of a lover with a fire in his heart, a man undercover but you tore me apart...'

"Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Harrington?" the attendant asks. Steve sighs, the breath comes out in a shudder, "Would you mind calling me another cab?" "Right away," he says warmly. Steve appreciates the kindness, he wishes he got the man a goodbye card. The sound of the phonecall for the car is muffled as Steve thinks about how it felt to dance with you, the warmth of your skin, your giggles at the mall, the way you kissed him goodmorning in his bed earlier. He swallows, tears pooling in his eyes. 'But the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special. Special -- someone --' "Car should be here shortly."

"Thanks man, thanks so much," Steve says without turning around to face him. He wipes at his eyes with gloved hand, heading back into the cold to wait for the cab.

Alone.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff

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spicywhenspeaking · 2 months

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If I'm There: Chapter Twenty-Three

read from part one here!

summary: Noah and Natalie met in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams the things we love the most get left behind.

this is a complete work of fiction, some characters while based on real people are totally made up. :)

Taglist: @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount @blackveilomens @thisbicc @laurpartyprogram @concretenoah @thebadchic @jessitpwk@madomens @samanthasgone @myownthoughts12@missduffsblog @jilliemiw86 @malerieee @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @badomensls @robabankfuckmickeymouse

“Things are pretty normal given the situation. Noah has called a lot since he left and talks with Erin for almost an hour on the phone each time. We talked for a little bit but honestly, my feelings for Noah are getting so cluttered it’s hard to talk to him for too long”

“When you say cluttered what do you mean exactly”

“It’s just hard talking on the phone, you know, with everything. We saw each other for the first time in ten years and then I shook his whole world telling him he’s a father and I just wish I knew what he was thinking. We didn’t have enough time to talk about it all. He met Erin and it was great but I just…I feel like a failure of a mother for depriving her of him for so long and I don’t know how to express to him that I’m sorry. And honestly, I’ve never let myself get fully over him, I just feel like there’s always been a piece of me that has loved him, maybe just from what I see in Erin.”

Dr. Grady is quiet for a few moments while she thinks and takes in my words.

“I cannot speak for Noah, but I believe forgiving yourself for the past is important and a necessary step in your healing. You’ve already mentioned that there’s nothing you can do to change what has happened and it seems like you’re focused on helping Erin navigate this situation. As for your feelings about Noah, there is nothing I can tell you, that is a completely personal journey that you will have to take.” I sink lower into the sofa in Dr. Grady’s office and try to unjumble my thoughts, but those surrounding Noah will take time to fully unpack.

“And on top of all of it, my brother just got to town last night and I swear if you had told me ten years ago I would say I was jealous of Kyle's emotional maturity I would have pissed myself laughing.” As I tell Dr. Grady more, I recall my conversation with Kyle last night after Erin went down for bed.

“So, she met Noah huh? And she seems pretty happy about the whole situation so I’m guessing it went well?” Kyle asked cautiously. “Yeah, it went better than I expected. He was great with her, asked her questions about what she likes, talked to her about music and his life. He’s called her every other day since he left and they talk for hours.” I tell him as I pour the two of us a cup of hot tea.

“How do you feel about all of this?” He asks while blowing the steam off the cooling cup of tea in his hands.

“When I myself understand my feelings I’ll let you know.” I let out a pathetic laugh, “I’m happy for Erin, she’s happy and that’s what’s important. I’m trying not to think too much about all of the "what ifs you know? I told myself that I wasn’t going to let my feelings mess this up for her. She deserves a relationship with her father” I tell him honestly and then because I’m unable to stop it the word vomit spews out of me. “But I can’t help thinking what if I had told him ten years ago, would we have gotten back together? Would I have ever known truly if it was for me or just because I got pregnant, I mean how would you feel missing Natasha’s birth, her first steps and her first words?”

He takes a sip of tea and sits up straighter in the kitchen chair. “I think I would be upset at first, which you said he was but Nat, you’ll drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking about all of these hypothetical scenarios.”

“But like would you be able to forgive Maggie? Would you still haven’t wanted to marry her?”

A look of complete understanding washes across his face, “Nat, why do you insist you deserve to be hated for this? Why can’t you accept that he’s forgiven you and move forward? You forgave him for leaving all of those years ago. You’ve forgiven me for all the terrible things I’ve done, forgiven Dad too. You forgave Mom before she died. You believe everyone is worthy of forgiveness but you, why?”

“You believe everyone is worthy of forgiveness but you…that’s what he said. It sent me for a loop. It’s true. I’ll allow everyone to be flawed and make mistakes but when it comes to myself I wonder how I haven’t been dropped by every person in my life” I explain the conversation to Dr. Grady and wait for her response as I sit up and prepare for the end of our session.

“It’s common for people with anxiety to suffer from severe self-criticism. I’m going to send you a few readings I’d like you to look over before our next session and we can discuss it more since we are almost out of time.” She clears her throat and straightens up the papers in her hand. “It’s a very good question your brother asked. I think you should think about that one, why do you think everyone else is worthy of forgiveness but you? Because you are Natalie, you are worthy of forgiveness and you need to start by forgiving yourself.”

I quietly thank Dr. Grady for our session and leave once our time is finished.

She’s right and so is Kyle. I constantly forgive everyone all the time but never allow myself the grace of forgiveness.

Erin is happy, Noah is happy and it’s about damn time I let myself be happy too.

It’s around 4pm when I return home from therapy and my grocery store run. I got all of the essentials for a fun backyard fire pit dinner. We’re roasting hotdogs and then s’mores for desserts later.

When I get into the house I hear laughter and music filtering in through the kitchen, I walk through and notice the sound is coming from the backyard where Maggie and Kyle have set up the waterslide for the girls.

“Uncle Ky! Go go!!!” I hear Erin bellow as I see my brother fling himself down and slide all the way to the end of the slide.

“Oh hey, Natty!” Kyle calls, standing and shaking the water out of his hair. “How was your appointment?” He asks softly.

“It was good! Yeah, I feel good, thank you for talking to me about it last night, it was really helpful Ky.”

“Of course sis! What are twins for?” he says and then wraps his arms around me wiping water all over my dry clothes. “Kyle! Ugh!” I call out and push him off of me while he lets out a full bellied laugh.

A few hours later we are sitting, dry, around the warm fire. Kyle and Maggie are staying at a hotel but when Natasha started to get sleepy we put her in Erin’s bed until they left for the night.

I’m helping Erin roast a marshmallow when Maggie comes into my view, handing me a glass of wine. “I think it’s time for that girl-talk I was promised” she giggles and turns to Haylie who’s sitting and roasting her own s’more, “and I mean you as well girl, I wanna hear about this new book. You gotta tell me if they’ll end up together in the end please”

Haylie laughs and zips her lips, “hey I’m spoiler-free over here.”

Handing Erin her assembled s’more she thanks me and takes a huge bite causing marshmallows to overflow out the side and drip down her chin. I laugh and wipe it before it hits the floor.

Kyle stands to leave us to girl-talk and gestures towards Erin, “Come on sweety, let’s go watch a movie while your mom has her lady talk, it’ll be boring”

Erin giggles into her s’more “They just want to talk about Noah and how mom used to like him and now they’re both weird” she states while tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me, “yeah, sorry for being weird kiddo. I’m working on it.”

“Aren’t you observant?” Kyle says to Erin steering her towards the back door.

The three of us giggle at the way Erin was able to perfectly sum up the situation, “She sees everything I swear and she’s too smart.” I comment under my breath as I take a small sip of the wine Maggie brought me.

“What’s going on in that head of yours Natty,” Maggie asks and her face is nothing but compassionate. “Too much Mags, too much.” I take another long sip of wine and look into the slowly dimming fire. “I am so unbelievably happy to see Erin happy..”

“I’m sensing a but coming,” Haylie chirps from her chair on the other side of me.

“But.” I say, giving her a pointed look, “but I am just still navigating my own feelings about all of this, so I’m just a little scatterbrained.” I admit.

“Do you think it’s possible Noah could still have feelings for you?” Maggie asks and I shoot up in my chair, surprised by her question.

“Oh god no, I was just talking to my therapist about how shocked I am that he can even stand being around me,” I say and Haylie busts out laughing.

“Oh my god, are you blind? Dude the way he was looking at you not only the literal day you told him about her but the day he came over and was here for like eight hours, for Erin of course but Natty, there is no doubt he was also here for you.” Haylie says with a matter-of-fact tone and my eyes roll back so far I think they might never come back. “Oh please, there is no way Noah has feelings for me, It’s been ten years and at this point, we are just trying to navigate this co-parenting thing.”

That gets a laugh out of not only Haylie but Maggie as well, “you’re either blind, stupid or both if you don’t think that guy is and always has been in love with you, knowing he now shares a child with you is only going to cause him to further attempt to submit himself as the only man in your life,” Maggie says but I shake my head in disagreement, I just don’t think that is in the cards for Noah and me anymore no matter how easily I lose myself in his eyes, or how I secretly listen to his music and have always known he was the most talented person in the world.

“Whatever our feelings for each other may be, Noah and I have agreed that the most important thing is Erin’s happiness. I’m not going to risk that so I just need everyone to respect that.” I say with more firmness in my voice than intended. Maggie looks at me with a quiet understanding, “I will support you either way. I’m always on your side.” she says. Haylie nods in agreement “Me too.”

We spend another hour outside finishing our wine before heading back inside to see Kyle and his family off for the night. Erin heads up for bed soon after and I do a final sweep of the kitchen before heading up to bed myself.

As I’m laying my head down my phone rings lightly and I hesitate slightly before answering.

Hey Noah, is everything okay? Sorry but Erin is already asleep if you wanted to talk.

Hey, yeah everything is okay. I figured she’d be asleep, I was hoping to talk to you actually. If thats okay?

Oh, um yeah, we can talk. Whats up?

Are we okay Natty?

I freeze. What does that even mean? Are we okay?

Um. yeah? Why wouldn’t we be okay?

I just feel like…I don’t know how to say this. I’ve been trying Natty but when I talk to you on the phone it’s like you can’t get off fast enough.

What do you mean? I just figured you wanted to talk to Erin so you could get to know her more.

I mean, of course want to talk to Erin, but Natty I want to talk to you as well.

It’s been ten years and I meant what I said about wanting to be in your lives.

You want to talk to me? About what?

He laughs and the warmth of it climbs into my heart and makes a nest.

I want to know about your life, I want to meet the Natalie that you’ve become and I want to try and make up for all this time I’ve lost.

Oh. I’m - well I’m sorry if I was short with you on the phone. Honestly, all of this has been a big change for us all.

I haven’t been good about dealing with this, obviously.

Yes, It was a big change but I want you to know that I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this alone anymore. I truly do intend to be there. For both of you.

That’s co-parenting right? We’re in this together now.

Yeah. Together. I like the sound of that.

I can’t help the blush that spreads across my cheeks and down my neck, I know he meant together as parents but for a moment I allow myself to believe we could be the happy family I’ve always dreamed of.

I know it’s late so I can let you go if you’re getting ready for bed-

No, no, I can talk. Unless you’re tired.

No, we just got off the stage and I’m to amped up to sleep yet.

So Natty, tell me about your life.

We talk on the phone for hours. About the last ten years, I told him about life with Erin and we reminisced about life when we were young. I don’t remember hanging up, but I guess I fell asleep sometime while we were talking because when I woke up there was an unread text on my phone.

Noah S : goodnight :) I have missed talking to you these last ten years Natty. It is good to be back in your world. 4:13 am

I walk down the stairs with a spring in my step and I feel lighter than I have since this all began. I know we will all be okay and I can finally say that Noah and I are friends again after all of this time.

The rest of the week with my brother and Maggie is so much fun. We spend time at the park, go to museums and even a minor league baseball game. When they leave at the end of the week I give Kyle a big hug. "Thanks for everything Ky, I love you bro."

"I love you too sis, you're an amazing person. don't ever forget that."

Noah and I start texting more frequently in-between our phone calls and I find myself smiling and laughing more at my phone than I have in years.

In a week Noah will be back and Erin is so excited.

I won't lie, I'm pretty excited as well.

next chapter

#noah sebastian #noahsebastian #Noah Sebastian smut #noah sebastian x ofc #Noah Sebastian angst #Noah Sebastian fluff #bad omens fluff #bad omen smut #bad omen fanfiction #bad omen fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens rpf #bad omens smut #noah sebastian fic #lf Im there noah #rpf fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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tbmunson · 10 months

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Escape - Gareth Emerson x Reader pt.3

Summary: Your spot on the cheer team is threatened by the fast spreading news of your new relationship. Some people aren't as accepting as others.

Warnings: 18+ smut, oral, mentions of parent passing away, fluff.

Word Count: 5,527

Notes: I thank you guys again for your patience. Between normal life and unexpected events, it's a little harder to find time to sit down and write. Thank you all for continuing to support this story.

Taglist: First and foremost, my number one support, @ashes-writing. Thank you so much for everything. @depressedacidtest @nana90azevedo @alanamarie @lizzziekatt @m3ndacious @nighttwingg

You and Gareth had finished a decent portion of the paintings, not quite half, but more than a quarter, when the doorbell rang.

“Who’s that?” Gareth asked, looking up at you from the canvas.

You shrugged and sat your brush down. “No idea. Could be the guys if they tried to find us at your place.” You answered, stepping towards the door.

Gareth followed quickly, hugging you from behind as you stopped at the door, which made you laugh.

You pulled the door open as you looked up at him only to be met with a high pitched and disgusted “Ugh!”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back against Gareth. “What, Tiffany?” Your tone was flat, unwelcoming.

“Natalie called me to tell me about that little scene in the slum garage and I needed to talk to you about it, but in your house? Really?” Her face was scrunched, making her look more like a witch than she usually did.

“My boyfriend isn’t allowed to hug me?” You fake pouted, resting your hand on his arm. You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for her response.

“Boyfriend! Boyfriend? Are you kidding me?” She was screaming, hands clenched into fists that were shaking by her side.

You nodded in dramatically. “Yeah, boyfriend.”

“Absolutely not! Cheerleaders don’t date freaks!” She shrieked, making you roll your eyes

“Then I’ll turn in my uniform Monday morning, unless you’d like me to go grab it right now.” You offered, pointing to the stairs.

“I- uh- wait.” She held up her pointer finger and thought for a moment. You were the best at stunts on the team, and one of the three that could do serious acro that were left. The team couldn’t afford to lose you. “No. You can stay on the team. Just don’t sit with the freak brigade on game days.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Obviously you can’t afford to kick me off the team or you would have, so I think I’ll sit where I’d like, when I’d like, wearing what I’d like.”

Tiffany’s chest rose and fell with deep, harsh breaths as she glared holes through your head. “You’re fucking lucky you’re talented because if you were anyone else you would be gone.”

“You’re fucking lucky I actually like cheering because if I didn’t you’d be shit out of luck. Now. If you don’t mind, get off of my porch and don’t come back.” You were ready to pounce and show her exactly how you felt about her after all these years, but you knew better.

Gareth’s hands fell to your hips where they had rested most of the day and he soothed you, rubbing his thumbs over your skin to calm you. “That was so fucking hot.” He mumbled into your ear as Tiffany stomped away towards her car.

The guys turned on the street and saw Tiffany’s car in your driveway before seeing her yank the door open with the most sour look.

“Wonder what happened?” Grant asked before seeing what was happening at the front door.

You had turned yourself around and pulled Gareth down for a kiss, tongue licking over his bottom lip while he backed you up against the doorframe.

“No fucking way!” Jeff yelled before making a quick turn into your driveway.

The guys piled out, clad in all black, which pissed Tiffany off even more. “Fucking freaks!” She yelled out of the window as she started her car and slammed it into reverse.

Jeff flipped her off as they ran up to the door. “It’s about time!” He called out, breaking the kiss.

“When I’m right, I’m right.” Eddie smirked, making you roll your eyes.

“Fuck off, Eddie.” You laughed, letting an arm drop from around Gareth. “You don’t get credit for this.”

“Yeah, Greely does, actually.” Grant said, holding up a bag for you. “We all got you something, by the way.”

Gareth raised his eyebrow as you took the bag.

“You guys didn’t need to get me anything.” You said, opening the bag.

“Shut up and take it out, Princess.” Eddie urged, watching you closely.

You pulled the heap of black fabric from the bag and unfolded it. “Oh, my god!”

“Dude! That’s sick!” Gareth added, looking at the white lettering.

“You’re our biggest fan. And you’re really cool. It’s the least we could do.” Jeff smiled as you took in the new Corroded Coffin t-shirt.

“You guys are the best!” You squealed, taking a turn to hug each of the boys. “Thank you, again, for not writing me off with people like Tiffany and the bitch brigade. You guys are the best.”

The boys couldn’t help but smile. “It was Grant’s idea. The shirt.” Jeff stated, nodding his head to the bassist.

“Yeah, but we all went in on it so I can’t take all the credit.” The boy blushed lightly as being called out by his friend.

“Well it was a very sweet idea. Thank you, again. Why don’t you guys come on in? It’s warm out here.” You waved the boys inside and made sure to close the door behind them.

“This is a nice place.” Eddie said as he looked around at the pristine white walls and light wooden floors.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t feel very homey to me. My parents aren’t into the whole displaying memories thing.” You replied, leading them into the sitting room. “I’ll go clean up the studio real quick. I’ll be right back.” You headed towards the stairs and Gareth followed, grabbing your hand as he walked up with you.

“They adore you, you know.” He smiled, squeezing your hand as you topped the stairs.

You grinned and looked back down at the three guys who made themselves at home on the couches that hadn’t been sat on in who knows how long. It felt more like home than it ever had. “I adore them too, but not as much as I adore you.” You replied, standing on your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He watched you move with nothing but happiness on his face and that was enough for you.

Once the two of you cleaned up the mess and stopped the stereo you grabbed the tray you’d brought up earlier and returned downstairs. “I made sandwiches earlier, which you guys are welcome to.” You announced before setting it down on the coffee table.

The boys reached for the food and Eddie asked “So what exactly was that bitch here about?” In reference to Tiffany.

You explained the situation, including the fact that they needed you and didn’t have a say in a single thing you did anymore.

“I will never understand how people like her work. What makes her think she can control someone’s personal life?” Jeff asked, laying back against the couch with a couple of the grapes from the tray.

“Everyone rolls over to her because they’re scared of her. I’m done with that shit, you know? I’m tired of being what everyone else wants me to be. If that makes me a freak, then I’m proud of that.” You sighed, relaxing into Gareth’s side.

“Welcome to the Freak Brigade, Princess.” Eddie smirked as he snatched the last sandwich. He filed the name away, deciding that would be a good name for the Corroded Coffin fan base.

“It’s a pleasure to have you.” Grant added, peeling the cover off of the sleeve of Oreos.

Gareth kissed your cheek and smiled down at you. “You could have joined us at any time.”

“Gross.” Eddie mumbled, hiding his laugh behind the sandwich.

You rolled your eyes and rested your head against the back of the chair. “Jealousy is ugly, Eddie.”

The boys all laughed and fell into conversation about the campaign that was set to kick off the following Thursday, the last one for most of the club.

You mindlessly played with Gareth’s hair as you listened to them talk animatedly, more enthusiastic than any of the other people you’d hung around talked about anything.

“Do you know how to play, Princess?” Eddie asked, drawing you out of your own head.

You shook your head and chuckled. “Dustin gave me a rundown yesterday at lunch, but I don’t think I could compete with you guys.”

Gareth squeezed your thigh, noticing how your body reacted to him for the first time. “I’ll teach you, help you out if you wanna join in on the campaign.” He smiled, digging his fingers in a little deeper as he watched you.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You were biting back any noises that wanted to bubble up your throat and swallowing them back down.

“Great, Dustin and Will can help you with a character sheet. Those two are little geniuses when it comes to… just about anything actually.” Eddie laughed, noticing but ignoring the tension between you and Gareth.

“Great. I’ll draw their, uh, their characters as payment.” You replied in an attempt to clear your brain as Gareth’s hand gently slipped up and down your skin, driving you crazy in the best way.

“Great.” Eddie replied, laughing a little.

“Oh, Gareth, I was supposed to show the girls some acro. We should probably head down in a few, hm?” You knew if you were to sit here for another five minutes you’d just jump his bones in front of everyone.

“Right, right. Why don’t you go get changed and me and the boys will wait for you here?” He offered, not wanting to seem like he was dying to get into your room.

You nodded and kissed his cheek before getting up to run up the stairs.

“Gareth, you just teased the fuck out of her.” Eddie stated, moving to stand.

“Yeah, I thought she was going to take you right here.” Jeff added, grabbing the now empty tray to take into the kitchen for you.

Gareth chuckled and looked towards the stairs. “Can you blame me? I’ve only wanted her for the last fourteen years of my life.”

“I overheard Tiffany the other day saying how she hasn’t, you know. So don’t push too hard. Might scare her off.” Grant said in a whisper, making sure you wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Gareth nodded, wondering if you’d been waiting for him. He waited for you for so long, until last year he just couldn’t take it anymore and he convinced himself you’d never give him the light of day. He ended up messing around and hooking up with the senior girl in Hellfire that year, which he kind of regretted and was kind of happy about. He knew what he was doing and he’d be able to please you, but on the other hand, he would have loved for you to be his first.

You came back down in a pair of practice shorts and a tighter t-shirt with your hair in a ponytail. “Ready?” You asked, slipping your sneakers on at the foot of the stairs.

“Yeah.” Gareth smiled, reaching out for your hand, which you gladly let him take.

The sight was a little funny, four guys dressed in all black walking you down the street wearing a pale pink top and white bottoms. It definitely caught the attention of some of your neighbors who gave you a strange look.

Gareth restrained himself from touching all over you as you walked. The outfit left very little to his imagination and he was definitely imagining the rest. At least until he heard his sisters all your names and start running towards you.

“Are you gonna show us tricks now?” Clara asked, reaching up and taking your hand as Lori tried her best to climb into Eddie’s arms to tell him about her competition.

You nodded and bent down to pick her up. “I sure am, lil bit. How about I show you a back handspring?”

“Mrs. Amy is supposed to teach my class that soon!” Lori said, turning in Eddie’s arms.

“I can show you how and you can impress Mrs. Any next time you go to class.” You winked, earning a squeal from the girl.

“Alright, so I’ll show you first and then I’ll break it down for you and help you. I don’t want you to try it by yourself just yet because we don’t have a mat and I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” You emphasized as you handed Clara off to her favorite bandmade, Grant.

The girls nodded and watched you closely, cheering you on with the boys.

“How many can you do in a row?” Lori asked as you walked back over.

“I can do five.”

“I wanna do five!” Clara yelled excitedly, making you and the boys laugh.

“Let’s start with getting one down, then we can work on multiples.” You replied with a smile. “You guys ready to try that?”

“Yeah!” The girls wiggled themselves out of the arms holding them and followed you.

You looked up at the boys and nodded to the garage. “You guys can go hang out. I think us girls have it under control out here, right?” You really just didn’t want them to get bored, standing around watching a couple of letting girls jump around.

“Yeah! Us girls got it out here.” Lori said sassily, making everyone laugh again.

“Alright, Princesses. We’ll get out of your way.” Eddie bowed dramatically before walking towards the garage.

Gareth stepped over to you and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Let me know if they get to be too much, Doll.” He squeezed your hip and watched the blush that spread across your face.

“They’ll be fine. We’re not going to do too much.” You rested your hand on his arm and gave him one more kiss before letting him follow the boys.

“I thought you said you weren’t his girlfriend.” Lori pouted, feeling like she may have been lied to.

You dropped down to your knees in the grass. “He wasn’t last night. He just asked me today. You know what that means, don’t you?” You asked, brushing some hair out of her face.

“What?” She asked, still pouting.

“That means that I get to come over and play with you guys all the time.

Clara gasped dramatically, covering her mouth with her hands. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky for each girl to take the turn.

“Yay!”

After about half an hour the sun began to set and you had both girls doing back handsprings, with you spotting them of course. You were getting ready to call it quits when Gareth’s mom walked outside.

“Would you girls like some lemonade after that practice?” She asked from her spot on the porch.

“Mommy! Y/N is the best girlfriend Gareth ever had!” Lori yelled, making your face flush, which wasn’t that noticeable considering you were already red faced from the work and heat.

“Girlfriend?” She asked curiously, like she hadn’t seen her son kiss you earlier from her spot at the kitchen window.

“Yes ma’am. As of today.” You replied, walking with the girls up to the porch.

“Please, call me Gwen.” She smiled, handing you a cold glass full of lemonade. “He’s had a thing for you for a while, you know.”

“I’ve had one for him too. Probably since we were Lori’s age.” You admitted, taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs, which appeared to be an open invitation for the girls to crawl into your lap.

“Trust me honey, I used to catch the two of you looking at each other from down the street. I think you two were the only ones who didn’t know.” She chuckled before scolding the girls for climbing all over you.

“Oh, no, they’re fine. I had to tell Gareth that a hundred times in the last two days.” You laughed as Clara yawned, evidence that she hadn’t taken a nap today.

“They talked about you all day today, telling me how you were the funnest person ever and how nice you were to them.” Gwen said, then added, “Thank you for teaching them a new skill and spending time with them. That last girl Gareth had hanging around wasn’t… gifted when it came to kids. That was one of the reasons they broke things off. He never left her alone with them.”

You couldn’t stop the bitter chuckle that came out of you. “She wasn’t my biggest fan either. I think she wrote me off with the rest of them.” You hugged the girls a little closer as sleep began to take hold of them.

“I didn’t like her.” Lori mumbled with her eyes closed, making both you and Gwen laugh.

“I don’t think Gareth did either, much.” Gwen sighed, standing to grab Clara. “It’s bedtime my sweet angel. I’ll come back and get Lori.”

“I’ll take her up. I did it last night.” You said, standing with the girl on your hip.

“Gareth made you take her up?” Gwen questioned, eyebrow ticking up like she was ready to tell her son off.

“Gareth won't make me do anything I don’t want to do, I promise.” You assured her as you followed her in.

Gwen laughed and nodded. “Good. You tell me if he starts and I promise you it won’t last long.” She nodded with a look that was sweet but also serious. That’s when you knew that you loved her.

“I promise you I will.” You smiled, following her up the stairs. “Goodnight lil bit.” You cooed to Clara before walking through the open door across the hall. “And goodnight to you too, baby doll.”

“Goodnight my other angel.” Gwen said softly from the door.

“Night mama, night Doll.” Lori mumbled, making you laugh a little as you pulled the blanket up.

“Doll?” Gwen asked as you closed the door behind yourself.

“I guess she heard Gareth call me that earlier.” You chuckled, following the woman down the stairs.

Gwen smiled and her eyes watered a little. “That’s what Gareth’s father called me before he passed away.”

Your stomach turned, realizing the weight the simple name carried. “Oh.” You weren’t sure what to say.

“He doesn't call anyone that, so you’re special.” She took your hand in hers and gave it a gentile squeeze.

You smiled and squeezed hers back. “He’s special to me too. Now that I have him I’m scared to lose him.” You weren’t sure why you were admitting that to his mother, but it felt right. Safe. More than you could say for your own mother.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Honey. I know your parents are gone a lot so if you need to be around people, don’t be shy.” She patted your hand, a silent assurance that you won’t lose her son.

“Thank you.”

Gareth opened the door and looked at the scene, smiling a bit. “Trying to embarrass me, mom?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Not at all. Don’t accuse your mother of things.” You answered, walking over and hugging him. “Lori spilled the beans about us, by the way.” You smiled up at him as his arms fell around you.

“Well, at least that part is over with.” He kissed your forehead as glanced at his mom who nodded back at him. “Lets go to the garage with the guys, hm?”

You nodded and turned back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwen.” You smiled at the woman before walking out of the door with Gareth.

“What did you guys talk about?” He asked, keeping you as close to his body as possible.

“Nothing.” You replied with a sly smile. You leaned up and kissed him as he opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t worry about it. I promise it was nothing you need to be concerned with, okay?”

“If I pretend I’m still worried about it will you kiss me some more?” He smirked, stopping you next to the garage.

“If you want a kiss, just ask for it.” You ran your hands up over his chest, one coming to rest on his shoulder and the other resting on the side of his neck.

“That’s all it takes?” He asked, holding your hips and squeezing them.

You nodded as his face came closer to yours.

“Can I kiss you, Doll?”

You nodded again and pulled him into you.

His lips moved with yours and his hands dipped lower to rest on your ass before squeezing, eliciting a moan which he swallowed before pulling back. “Is that too much?” He asked, remembering what Grant mentioned earlier.

You shook your head and pulled him back down. “We could do more.” You whispered against his lips.

Gareth tensed a bit but kept going. “Have you done more?” He asked after a moment.

“No. I didn’t want to give it up to any of those meatheads. Greg begged for it, but I wouldn’t touch him with a fifty foot pole.” You replied, twisting some of his hair in your fingers. “But I want you to have it.”

Gareth groaned and grabbed your ass again. “Shit, baby. Of course I want it. I just don’t wanna rush you.”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t sure.” You kissed the corner of his mouth and then his lips. “My house is still empty.” You whispered, lips ghosting over his.

He groaned again and pulled you off of the side of the garage. “Hey boys, uh, we’ll be back later.”

“Should I ask?” Eddie quirked a brow, looking between the two of you.

“Nope.” You answered as Gareth gently pulled you towards your house.

“Oh, they’re about to fuck.” Eddie stated as he plopped the joint between his lips to light.

“Should we leave them some?” Jeff asked, grabbing one of the other joints.

Grant shrugged and watched Gareth grab your ass as you walked. “I don’t think they’ll be back.

You unlocked the door and pulled Gareth up the stairs with you. You stopped to open the door to your bedroom but Gareth turned you around and pushed you up against said door.

“If you want to stop, tell me. I promise I won’t be mad.” He ran his hands up and down your sides, bunching your shirt up a bit so he could touch your skin.

“I promise I’ll tell you.” You replied, craning your head to capture his lips in a kiss.

He smiled and kissed you slower than before but it was so much more powerful. His tongue pushed gently into your mouth as his hand reached for your door knob. Once he had it open he nudged you gently into the room and pulled away from the kiss to look around.

“What?” You asked, following his eyes.

“It’s different from what I thought it would be.” He replied, scanning over the darker art you had displayed.

“Spend a lot of time imagining what my bedroom looked like?” You joked, smiling at him.

He nodded and pulled your body into his. “I was expecting pink and frilly and cheer trophies. Maybe some pom poms hanging around.” He chuckled, taking one last look.

“Yeah? Bet you were hoping for pretty pink panties hanging off the top of the laundry basket too, huh perv?” You laughed as you sat down on the edge of the bed.

He glanced over to the basket and back to you. “Maybe. But I’ll settle for the black ones.” He smirked, bending to lift the lacy fabric up.

“I wore those last night.” You shrugged, biting your lip gently.

Gareth dropped them back down and walked over to you, pushing you back gently to hover over you. “What kind did you wear today?” He gripped your hip, with one hand while the other held him up.

“Why don’t you find out?” You asked, reaching up to his shoulder and pulling him down for a kiss.

He groaned into the kiss, his hand slipping from your hip to your core, making you moan. “Someone sounds needy.” He chuckled as he started kissing down your neck. His hand slipped back up your body, peeling your shirt up.

You sat up a bit to aid him in removing the garment, unhooking your bra while you were at it before falling back to the bed.

“You’re beautiful.” Gareth whispered before leaning back down to pepper your chest in kisses. His hand that wasn’t holding him up ghosted up your stomach before grasping one of your boobs, giving it a light squeeze.

You moaned out, bringing your hands to push through his hair.

“You liked that, huh?” He asked, looking up at you with a smile.

You nodded, breathing heavily.

He smirked at you again before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and nipping lightly on it. He could get off on just watching you squirm beneath him. Once he moved on from your nipple he slipped off of the bed to settle between your legs. “You soaked all the way through to your shorts baby.” He rubbed your thighs as he spoke.

“There was nothing to soak through.” You said, looking down at him.

“Hm?” His brows furrowed.

You chuckled and pushed yourself up on your arms. “Take them off.” You nodded to the shorts.

He reached up and gently pulled them down, only to be met with your bare, glistening pussy. “Fuck, been without panties all day?” He asked, warm breath fanning over you.

“Yeah, just hoping you’d notice.” Your words were breathy, almost silent.

“Been this wet all day too?” He asked before kissing the inside of your knee.

“Started when I watched you practice. I’ve been trying to be good.” You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, savoring the flavor of Gareth that lingered there.

Gareth kissed further up your left thigh, pulling back just before he reached your core. “Trying to be my good girl?” He asked before kissing the inside of your right knee and starting up.

“Yes, Gareth, fuck. Please.” You begged, watching him come closer and closer to where you were dripping.

He groaned as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, digging his fingertips into the soft skin. “You sound so pretty when you beg.” He had no other choice but to give you what you were asking for.

His tongue glided up your delicate folds, he moaned at the taste of you.

You let out a strangled whine, causing him to pull back.

“Don’t try to hold back to pretty noises, baby. Let me hear it, yeah?” He dipped back in, licking over your clit and reveling in the moans you released. It was animalistic in the best way, driving him to continue.

He unraveled one of his arms from around your leg and teased your entrance before gently pushing it in.

Your moans came out louder as the pleasure registered, only to be amplified by him adding another and curling them, reaching farther than your own fingers ever could.

“C’mon, baby, I know you're close. You’re squeezing my fucking fingers.” He mumbled into you, sending vibrations through you.

“Close, ‘M close.” Your breathing was rapid, moans spewing from your throat as the coil in your core snapped, Gareth’s name falling from your lips at full volume.

“Good girl, good girl.” He mumbled as you slowly came down from the high as he gently rubbed your thigh.

You looked down at him and reached out, trying to grab him. “Please.” You pouted, opening and closing your hand.

He smiled softly at you and was by your side in seconds. “What is it, pretty girl?” He ran the tips of his fingers up and down the side of your face as he waited.

“More.” You whispered, rolling onto your side to face him.

“More?” He raised an eyebrow. “More of what, baby?”

“You. More of you. All of you.” You pouted, hand resting on the side of his neck to pull him to you. You kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He pulled back after a moment, pressing a kiss to your nose then forehead. “Yeah? Get up to the top of the bed, okay?”

You nodded and pushed yourself further up the bed as you watched him stand, pulling his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his pants. “So pretty.” You mumbled, watching him shed his layers until he was fully exposed to you.

“If you wanna stop, tell me. I promise I will.” He smiled, crawling up to settle between your legs.

“Okay.” You admired the way the lamp in the corner highlighted the high points of his face. You felt seen, needed more than desired. “Gareth.” Your voice was low, soft, you weren't sure he heard you until he hummed back. “I love you.”

His mouth went dry and he looked down at you. A hundred thoughts raced through his mind, all of them involving you and the reasons why he knew what he said next was true. “I love you too.” He bent down to kiss you again, gently, like you were made of glass and he was scared to break you.

You felt the truth behind his words in the way he was so careful, taking his time, making sure you were okay. Your mind only fell from the kiss when you felt him press against you, slipping through your folds. You gasped.

Gareth pulled back and looked down at you. “You’re okay baby. I’ve got you, okay?” He stopped all movement, waiting on you to respond.

“I know. I’m okay.” You replied, hips twitching a bit, anxious for his next move.

He nodded, finally positioning himself at your entrance. “I’m gonna go slow, geet you all nice and stretched out. You gotta tell me when you want me to move.”

You nodded, but were shocked at his tutting. “Use your words, baby.” You moaned at the sound of his lust filled voice.

“Okay.”

He kissed your forehead and pushed into you slowly stretching you open inch by inch. “Feel so good baby, shit.” He thought he may bust early because of how tight you were, but he kept his control, only shuttering once he was fully inside of you.

You waited a moment, soaking in the feeling, before you looked up into his eyes. “You can move now, please.”

Gareth chuckled darkly, his fingertips skimming over your cheek. “So fucking polite.” He dragged himself out slowly and pushed back in at an equal pace, watching your body react to him until you were begging him to go faster.

You were a moaning mess of pleasure, unsure of how you’d ever be able to anything other than be in bed with Gareth. There wasn’t a coherent thought in your head, let alone coming out of your mouth as he began slamming into you at a delicious pace.

His hand slipped between your bodies and rubbed circles over your clit as he watched your face contort in ways he hadn’t seen before, ways that he needed to see again and again.

Your fingernails dug into his back, his scalp, the bedsheets, anything you could find to remind you that you were still on Earth.

“You’re close baby, I can feel it.” Gareth whispered into your ear as you tightened around him.

You nodded, unable to form a simple ‘yes’ in response.

“Give it to me. I know you can. That’s it, good girl.” Gareth’s hips sputtered as you came, white hot pleasure soaking both of you as he followed you over the edge, filling you with him.

There was a long moment of silence where the two of you recovered before you spoke. “Do you really love me?” You asked, turning to face him.

He half smiled, reaching his hand out to you. “I have loved you since our first day of elementary school when you came over and shared your 64 pack of crayons with me because I only had 24. You told me that wasn’t enough colors to be creative, so we made these two awful looking blobs with all 64 colors. That’s the day I knew I loved you.”

You giggled, wrapping yourself around him. “I knew I loved you the next day when I was on the swings by myself and you came over and told me that I was your best friend and best friends don’t swing alone. You pushed me so high I thought I was flying.” You smiled before pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“We’re so stupid.” He chuckled, shaking his head. He continued when he saw the curious look in your eyes. “We’ve been in love with each other since we were four. We were just to dumb to say anything. We could have been happier a lot sooner.” He smiled, pulling you into his body.

“Yeah, I guess we are pretty dumb, worried about what the other would have said. I’m glad I have you now. You’re not going anywhere.” You replied, drinking in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Same goes for you, Doll. Same goes for you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you while you drifted to sleep.

#stranger things #gareth emerson #gareth the great #Gareth Emerson x reader #Gareth Emerson x cheerleader reader #Gareth Emerson x fem!reader #Gareth Emerson fluff #Gareth Emerson smut #Gareth Emerson fan fiction #Gareth Emerson escape #Gareth Emerson fan fic #stranger things fan fiction

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coalswriting · 9 months

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murder and rescue ii - natalie scatorccio

summary – ghostface makes a return with a bit of help (approx. 1.6k words) >> part i <<

tw; murder, mentions of sexual assault, slight homophobia/fetishization of lesbians, natalie, reader, and misty are evil in a Fucked Up Way

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finding out that natalie scatorccio was ghostface was not something that existed on your yearly bingo. you hadn’t talked much about it since the night at the party, and some twisted part of you didn’t seem to mind that she was a murderer. in fact, you found it energising, exciting, intriguing. these, you decided one day as you listened to music and stared at your bedroom ceiling, were not the words you should have been using to describe your girlfriend. maybe you were as messed up as she was.

natalie had killed a few more times since the party. there was a guy that misty was having trouble with. he had felt her up in the middle of a lab and he didn’t stop even when she pushed his hand away. she couldn’t tell anybody because he was the son of a well-respected teacher. misty wasn’t his first, nor last victim. she found out who ghostface was (seriously, the girl was basically a detective), and instead of handing the information to the police, she actually asked nat to take care of him. this is how misty, natalie and you became a trio; your house was the hideout, natalie was the killer, and misty was the medic and brains.

every time nat would show up outside your window at an obscure time, you always unlocked the door for her, let her run a hot bath, and hid her outfit. then, the two of you would passionately make out and love each other until dawn; the thrill was sickeningly addicting. this system had worked for a few kills, but eventually natalie stopped. justice was served, and you assumed that the predators of wiskayok high had ceased their ways. that was until two months later.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

natalie pushed you into a bathroom cubicle, pinning you against the wall. you moaned as her lips attached themselves to your neck, kissing you down to your shoulder of which she pulled the hem of your shirt to reveal. “nat,” you breathed heavily, warmth pooling into your stomach. your girlfriend smirked, bringing her mouth to your ear.

“shut up,” she whispered huskily before nibbling your lobe. your hands clasped themselves onto her hips as you pulled her closer. suddenly, a hand covered your mouth as natalie went stiff. you heard three or four voices enter the bathroom and then the unzipping of (presumably) a makeup bag.

“what is it that you wanted to tell us, allie?” one of the girls said, “you’ve been looking nervous all day.”

“well”, you heard allie’s voice, “you know patrick johnson?”, followed by a few ‘mhhmms’, “he forced himself on my sister at a party a few nights ago. i couldn’t go and protect her, i was sick. she’s been closed off ever since and she won’t tell me exactly what he did. i’m so worried…”

natalie’s eyebrows rose in curiosity as the both of you listened. you heard the girls reassure allie before one of them piqued up, “he’s really evil, i’m sorry. he did the same to tamara too… nobody believed her so she dropped out to avoid him. she was so lovely too.”

after consoling allie for a few minutes, all the girls went back to their classes. natalie finally took her hand off your mouth and whispered to you, “we need to get that bastard.”

you only nodded in return.

“i’ll tell misty to meet at yours tonight and we can plan it?”

“yeah,” you murmured, “looks like ghostface is back.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

the three of you stalked your prey over the period of a few weeks. you found his phone number and took note of his patterns: he always arrived at school ten minutes before assembly and used his locker first, after third period, he always went the bathroom, and he walked a friend home every day. most nights, he was home alone because his mother worked the night shift. his lights were off by 11pm most nights, and he almost always forgot to lock the back door.

it was 3am on a tuesday when you rang his phone. with the help of misty, you had installed a voice changer into your own device, and he answered after the third ring, voice sleepy and tired.

“uhhh, hello?”

you smiled as you spoke, “is this patrick johnson?”

you heard a shuffling on his side before he finally answered, “who is this?”

you watched from the bushes as natalie slipped her way towards his garden, hugging the wall. she was donning the ghostface costume, knife hidden under a fold of fabric. “you need to tell me, are you patrick johnson? this is serious.”

“fuck off”, is all he said before he hung up his phone. your eyes darkened as you rang again, and he picked up faster this time.

“seriously, who is this? don’t mess with me.”

“patrick,” you said, voice barely a whisper, “have you seen any horror movies?”

“uh, yeah, a few. why?”

you ignored his question, continuing with yours, “do you know what motives the killers normally have?”

“they’re normally insane, like you,” he growled, and you heard him hang the phone up again.

so, you rang again.

“fuck off, leave me alone. i’ll come and kill you,” he threatened, seething from anger.

“you’re right,” you said, darkly, “they normally are insane. but they can have motives too. have you heard of ghostface?”

when patrick didn’t reply, you continued to talk, “ghostface only kills people that deserve it.”

his voice was shaky as he cut you off before you could talk more, “is this ghostface?! i didn’t do anything!”

“i’m not ghostface”, you said simply, “but you did, patrick. you hurt a lot of young girls, didn’t you?”

“wait, listen to me! they never said no! leave me alone-“

“i didn’t finish,” you growled, shutting him up, “as i was saying; i’m not ghostface, but look behind you.”

you heard shuffling again, and then a muffled scream through the phone alongside the sound of the device being dropped. there was an audible struggle as he pleaded for his life. your smile grew wider. the tussle appeared to last about three minutes until everything fell eerily quiet. then, you heard someone pick up the phone, and the voice of your girlfriend rung out, quiet and still, “come in.”

you sauntered in through the back door, entering his kitchen. the phone he had used to call you was left discarded, a few feet away from the counter. you stomped on it, breaking it to pieces before turning to your girlfriend. she stood over the body, breathing heavily. stepping over the corpse of patrick johnson, you ripped the mask off ghostface, watching as her hair cascaded down her shoulders like it had the first time she revealed herself to you. she looked like a goddess, basked in an omnipotent light. you felt your heart flutter, watching blood drip down her lips.

“he got me good”, she said, smiling at you. she then looked down at the deceased, an animalistic grin painting her features. her eyes were wide; not with fear but with fascination – the adrenaline of the hunt was taking her over, as if she wasn’t herself.

snapping her out of her admiration, you wiped her bloody nose with your thumb before you brought your lips to hers. the kiss was passionate, and you could taste the metallic taste on her mouth, though that didn’t deter you. her hands trailed down your body before resting on your hips and before you could escalate the kiss, you heard the jingle of keys coming from the front door. you pulled away from your girlfriend as she put the mask back on and you pulled your hood over your head. taking the knife out of the corpse, she ran out the back door she had come in from, you following her. nobody saw you.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you closed the suitcase that contained natalies now clean costume, sliding it under your bed. she met your gaze as you entered the bathroom, slipping into the bathtub with her. natalie pulled you into her chest, brushing your hair with her hands as you both relaxed in the hot water. you hummed relaxingly, before looking up at her.

“i love you”, you confessed. though this was not the first time natalie had heard you say this, her heart still began to beat a little harder than before and you chuckled, “i can feel your heart!”

“shut up,” she gave you a playful slap on the thigh before sighing gently, “love ya too.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

the next morning came faster than you had expected, and as you, natalie, and misty sat in your assembly, an announcement came through the speakers.

patrick johnson was dead; a suspected murder.

misty, natalie, and yourself gave each other fake confused looks as you peered around the classroom, a small hint of amusement in your faces. everybody burst into chatter and discussion, theorising who killed patrick. not many seemed to be particularly sad, moreso than they were curious. misty continued to doodle in her copy whereas natalie shrugged her shoulders at you.

“people seemed to be kind of hopeful”, you stated later, as you walked natalie home, hands interlocked.

“yeah, it was weird. i thought people would be at least a little sad that he died but i guess he wasn’t too popular with anybody from the beginning. he really did deserve it”, your girlfriend said, a small smirk on her face.

a car drove past you full of football players. they stopped on the road a few feet ahead and began catcalling you.

“why don’t you two make out? let us see some girl on girl action!”, someone yelled out. the boys erupted into laughter before continuing to drive on.

you groaned, disgusted.

natalie squeezed your hand a little tighter, a reassuring glint in her eyes. “hey, hey, it’s okay. ghostface will get them,” she whispered deviously.

you looked ahead, watching the car drive off. maybe ghostface would get them; maybe he was back for good – or at least until you’d all get caught.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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jscameron · 2 months

Text

Been on a bit of a hiatus because I didn’t know what to write. 😭 Here’s a fic of Rafe Cameron x fem reader.

Warnings: mdni, 18+, public sex, drug use, oral (male & female receiving), rough sex, uses of the terms: bitch and slut a few times, maybe that’s it? idkkkk

Word Count: 1.5k

Enjoy, and please let me know your thoughts! Reblog and like if you want to!

✨✨✨

You knew by the way he was looking at you, that this was going to be a long night.

You’re at a party that the Kooks were throwing, so you know you were going to get into some shit. You just didn’t know what kind of shit.

You’re dolled up wearing a black, lacy lingerie set that’s tucked into your ripped jeans, and wearing your favorite pair of vans — you knew this would get his attention. Rafe Cameron. It seems that every time you looked glanced around to take in the scene, you’d see his eyes following you and your every move.

“Y/n? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”, your friend, Natalie, snaps you out of your daze. “Huh? What?”, you ask. “Bitch. Are you actively looking for Rafe? You little slut!”, she teases. “C’mon, Nat. You knew he was the only reason that I came to this party.”, you groan. “Yeah, girl. That, and because it’s at his house.”, she says, dramatically. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Wanna come with?”, you ask her. “Nah, girl. Your mission is to find Rafe, I’m going to find Topper.”, she smirks.

You make your way to the bathroom, and see that the door is closed, and knock. “Yeah? Just a second!”, a voice — Rafe’s voice — calls out. Fuck. You wanted to prep before you got to be near him, you know, fix your makeup and your hair; that sort of thing. Well, better late than never to see him, I guess. The knob turns and your heart is in your throat. You eye him as he’s eyeing you, a hungry look in his eye. “Ah, y/n. Just the girl I wanted to see.”, he says before dragging you by the arm into his bathroom.

Panicked, you are like a deer in the headlights, frozen, breath hitched, not sure of your next moves. He is inches away from your face, you can feel his breath fanning on you, and he locks the door behind you. “So, you came out all this way for me?”, he asks, teasingly. “You look stunning. Makin’ me think about what I want to do to you.”, he says as he pushes some hair behind your ear. “Y-yeah, well, no! Natalie invited me because she wanted to see Topper and —“, you’re cut off by him kissing you and holding you against the door. “That lingerie you have on is so hot.”, he says, as he starts to unclasp the back of it, showing your bare breasts to him. You try to cover yourself, but he takes your hands and holds them against your sides, taking your beautiful body all in. “Damn, you’re even hotter undressed.”, he says as he bends down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, palming the other breast.

“R-Rafe. I don’t think we should be doing this in here.”, you say, breathlessly. He stops what he’s doing and looks you in your eyes. “You mean you don’t want me to do this?”, he asks as he starts unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down, to pull the rest of your bodysuit down. You’re bare now, and he’s eyeing you hard. “Damn, y/n. I’m so fucking hard right now.”, he says as he’s rubbing his cock in his jeans. “Rafe, I —“, he cuts you off as he kisses you. He is running his hands all over your body. He gets to your cunt, and starts rubbing ever so slowly. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Are you sure you want me to stop? Get on top of this counter.”, he says. Before you can do anything else, he picks you up and places you on the countertop.

“Spread those legs for me, baby.”, he orders. You hesitate, but you both knew that you wanted this. You lean back onto the mirror behind you and slowly spread for him. “Yeah, baby. Look at how wet you are.”, he kneels in front of you, his face eye level with your pussy, fingers messing with your velvety folds. “If you’re gonna fuck me, just do it. Please.”, you beg. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. I’m going to do more than that.” he says before sliding a ringed finger into you and taking your clit into his mouth.

✨

“Fuck! Rafe!”, you scream as your hands ruffle into his hair. He has already brought you into your third orgasm, and his dick hasn’t even been inside of you yet. Holy shit, can this man eat some pussy. He’s moaning as you keep cumming, the vibrations in his lips sending you over the edge. He finally comes up for some air. “Oh yeah, y/n. I’m fucking ready.”

He’s undoing his belt buckle, and slips off his pants and boxer briefs in one motion, cock bouncing slightly from being freed. You take the sight of him in, and that’s when you hop off the counter, get onto your knees, and take all 8 inches into your mouth. “F-fuck! Damn, bitch. You’re wild for me.”, he says as he takes a handful of your hair and lets you work your magic on him. You’re loving this. The feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, the tug of his hand into your hair, the tension in this room, him looking down at you as you’re a drooling and gagging mess, tears rolling down your face. “Awe, baby, can you not take it?”, he asks teasingly, knowing damn well you can’t answer. As you look up at him with your doe eyes, you feel him twitch in your mouth, you have him right where you want him. “Get up. Hurry. I want to cum in your pussy.”, he barks, hand still in your hair, grabbing you off of his dick.

“Face the fucking mirror and watch.”, he orders. He pushes you towards the counter and positions you how he wants you. Facing forward in the mirror. You brace yourself onto the counter and push your ass back to him, making your pussy spread on its own. He’s palming his dick in one hand, the other holding tightly onto your hair. You feel the tip of his dick on your entrance, then, all at once, you feel his pelvis on your ass. Rafe Cameron is inside of you and you love it. He starts slow and then eventually gets into a good rhythm.

“F-fuck, Rafe, fuck!”, you moan as his thrusts are getting faster and sloppier. “Please, don’t stop. Yes. Just like that.”, you stare at him in the mirror, moaning and drooling as he keeps going. “Yeah, darling. That’s it. Watch me fuck you, feel me inside of you, don’t look anywhere else, don’t think about anything else.”, he orders, breathing getting heavier and faster. “Fuck! This pussy is so good and it’s all mine.”, he says as he leans into the crook of your neck and shoulders. You feel him getting sloppier, knowing he’s close to his orgasm. You’re moaning so loudly, but you don’t care if anyone hears, you’ve wanted him so bad for months and you finally have him. You moan more and cum once again, and then you feel his dick twitch inside of you as he releases ropes of cum to paint your walls inside of you.

“Holy fuck, y/n. That’s it. You’re mine.”, he says as he’s pulling out of you, letting his cum slowly release out of your cunt. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you. Now get your clothes back on and come back out with me.”, he says. You do as you’re told and when you exit the bathroom, his hand on the back of your neck, you see Natalie and Topper across the way immediately, and you know you’re caught.

“Hey, Nat. Top.”, you say, shyly, but still in a daze from what you just experienced with Rafe.”Yesssss, bitch!”, Natalie says to you, totally supportive of what she knows went down in the bathroom. Rafe and Topper exchange a handshake and a congratulations because Topper knew as well. It’s like those two were betting on you and Rafe having sex at this party. “C’mon, y/n”, Rafe calls out to you, “Let’s go outside and get some air.”, he says. You follow him, leaving Natalie and Topper inside to do God knows what.

Once you get outside with Rafe, there’s still a ton of people at his party, but it feels like it’s just you and him. You see him fish out a joint and lighter out of his front pocket and he lights it. “You want some, darling?”, he asks, offering you the joint. “I, uh, I don’t really smoke, so I don’t know how.”, you say, shyly. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll help you.”, he says. He inhales slowly, grabs you by your jaw, and you open your mouth slightly. He brings his lips to yours and blows in, as you inhale. “Good girl.”, he says. Hearing those two words makes you want to go another round with him.

✨✨✨

#fanfic #writing #obx fanfiction #writeblr #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #obx fic #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #mdni #18+ mdni #18+ only #18+ content #18+ post

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yellowharrington · 3 months

Text

jaded - chapter 4, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: smoking mention, minors dni with this story please.

word count: 2k

a/n: ok literally i am the worst ever and i totally didn't finish this fic even tho i started it so im finally posting the last part literally MONTHS later!!! sorry besties but i couldn't have an unfinished fic out there in the world so... if u fuck w this story at all thank u for reading it and all the encouraging and nice things people have said, it literally made me want to complete this fic so thank u <3

summary: tying up loose ends.

and it's a fuckin' shame that it ended like that you broke your own heart, but you'd never say that we went to hell, but we never came back

masterlist | chapter 3

It all just feels numb.

Sun coming up over the horizon and a light snowfall onto the street below. Your home is quiet, no pans in the kitchen making French omelettes, no TV playing outside the bedroom door as you sleep. No toothbrushing in the bathroom or running shower water, warm and steamy, inviting you in.

It’s not that you weren’t expecting his answer. Or, lack thereof. It’s that he couldn’t make up his fucking mind. First, he’s cooking you an omelette in your favourite pan with a cup of coffee made exactly the way you like it. He’s spending every evening on the couch with you, your hands splayed out against his stomach, comfortable beneath the waistband of his sweats. You’re in his sweater, baking fresh warm cookies so he can have one before bed, smudges of chocolate against your lips as he pushes you up against the counter, hot skin on cold tile.

Next, he has that look on his face, where he’s somewhere else. Thinking of her, in a dreamland where he can make it right again, and it all feels like it comes crashing down. The sweet nothings don’t exist in this realm, there’s no happiness here.

And when you do have to face him on Monday, it’s back to cold shoulder, nothing different. Yes chef, no chef, thank you chef.

Sydney tries to make conversation, and you feel bad because you won’t bitch about Carmy like you usually would. Richie’s having secret meetings with Natalie, probably more about Claire, but you don’t even think to join in. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, and it’s hard enough to go outside and take a fucking break from it all, let alone be in the same cramped kitchen with him. There’s no solitude, just aching, just disappointment.

“Did you order me a new cake pan, chef?” It’s directed at Tina, who looks up at you with the same wistful softness as she always does, smiling before nodding in your direction. You don’t hear her slide over to you, but when she suddenly appears at your station, you can tell she just knows something’s wrong.

“What’s up with you?” she asks, clipboard finding it’s way to the counter beside you, where a piping bag lays. “You’re not yourself. Something… wrong. Don’t tell me a boy did this to you.” The tears prick at your eyes and you swallow it all before you can get out a word, because yeah, it all fucking aches and the hurt feels like it’s sitting right behind your eyes, in your throat, ready to come out.

“It’s nothing. It is a boy but, boys are stupid and I’m not gonna cry over one,” you sniffle, before untying your apron and letting it hang loose on your body. “Not worth it.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Your blood runs cold when she gestures just outside to the bright light of the door, where Carmy sits, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other.

Luckily the kitchen is empty when you reply, only so she can hear, “how did you know?”

“I saw the way you looked at him this morning.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Fuck no. Between you and me, chef.”

You sighed relief, letting your front hit the counter as the stress left your body. “Thank fuck. Yeah, I don’t know, we were-“

“Fuckin’?” Tina’s got a sly smile on her face that makes it impossible not to laugh with her.

“Yeah, I guess. It felt like more than that. But apparently he’s still hung up on Claire so, I guess that ends it.”

She exhales slowly, joining you in a lean against the counter. “Jeff makes mistakes, everyone knows that. He’s moody and sad and he’s got fuckin’ problems, that kid, I tell ya.” She pauses for a second, eyes meeting yours, sincere. “But he’s good. I just don’t think he can handle himself, is all.” She takes a beat, letting her soft hand lay over yours, “He doesn’t let himself have the good shit because it always gets ruined. But you’re good. He’s scared of you.”

“He should be scared of me. I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you mutter, letting your floured hand meet your forehead in annoyance. “I’m not responsible for fixing his shit.”

She nods, agreeing with you, a hand cupping yours on the counter. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying he could use someone like you to bring him back to Earth, is all.”

When Carmy does make it back inside, he’s thumbing through paperwork at the desk, hand through his hair stressfully pulling at the strands. He’s trying so hard not to stare at you from where he’s sitting, noticing your cold gaze, somewhere far away. He takes out his phone to scroll through it mindlessly, procrastinating, when he meanders his way to the text icon and opens up your thread. A few texts here and there, mostly just asking about plans to come over, the occasional sexy photo or recipe idea.

[sunday, 10:26] they don't have fresh sourdough. should we just make some this aft?

[saturday, 4:35] i hate when you go in on saturdays

[saturday, 4:36] Photo Recieved

[saturday 4:36] don't you wish you were home with me?

[tuesday, 12:22] is balsamic glaze overdone? lmk. miss u.

It feels a little too domestic, seeing the way he so effortlessly became comfortable with you, a warmth and excitement that was just never there with Claire. It’s raw and it’s guilty and he’ll beat himself up over it forever, but it was never going to be perfect with her, no matter how hard he tried.

“Boss?”

Richie appears in the office, leaning against the door frame before noticing Carmy’s disheveled look. “Yeah?”

“You look worse than usual.”

“Thanks. What do you need?”

“Well, I was gonna ask if you ordered more eggs.”

“I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I think Sydney did.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

It’s like Richie could see right through him.

“Nothin’. Stupid shit.”

Richie steps into the office, leaving the door only slightly ajar.

“Cousin.”

Richie can be sweet when he wants to be, and when he’s got a hand on Carmy’s shoulder and a somber look in his eyes it’s like he already knows how Carmy feels.

“Why do I suck so bad at being a fuckin’ normal person?”

Richie sits next to him, a look of surprise. “Is this about Claire bear?”

“Yes, well - yeah, and also no. Kinda. I don’t know.”

“Is it about Miss Buttercream out there?”

He gestures to you outside the door, zesting some orange on top of the cake you were finishing up. Carmy stifles a laugh.

“We all know you’re porkin’ her.”

“Don’t say that,” Carmy laughs, hand coming up to his face to rub his eyes. “It’s more than that. We’ve been kinda, dating, I guess? I still don’t know what counts as having a girlfriend.”

“So what did you do?”

He gnaws at the skin of his thumb and lets his eyes flicker up to Richie’s. “Fucked it. Last night, I, uh,-“ his hand finds his warm forehead. “I really like her, like a lot. But she asked about Claire and I said the wrong thing, like I always do and uh, she didn’t like it.”

“She’s good,” Richie starts, letting his hands find his aproned thighs as he sits at the corner of the desk. “Claire was good for you too. But she didn’t… get it. Not like she does,” he gestured vaguely to your station outside the door. “Claire was never gonna get the restaurant and the kitchen and the fuck of it all.”

Richie's hand extends to cup Carmy's shoulder.

“Look, do whatever you want, but there isn’t really someone who matches you like she does. Claire’s history now, drunk phone calls don’t mean she’s still in love with you. If that’s what you were thinking.”

Carmy sits back in the creaky chair. “Nah, not that. I just don’t know how to do it right.”

“It’s not about doing it right,” Richie’s got sincerity in his eyes. “It’s about fuckin’… trying shit. Just go and make a move and see.” Carmy watches you hang up your apron on the hook and grab a hoodie before fucking outside. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks Richie.”

“Good luck.”

“I’m sorry.”

Carmy’s voice takes you out of your trance as you stare into the back alley of the restaurant. “Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

“You can talk, I’ll listen.”

The crackle of his lighter, orange flame against white snow. You can see his breath slipping from between his lips as he exhales out of the corner of your eye.

“I feel like a fuckin’ asshole,” he starts, plunging his other hand in his pocket. “I don’t know what to say.” A beat. “Can you look at me?” It’s gentle, a question, not a demand.

You turn to look at him. Cold blue eyes, darkened by the brightness around you. “You’re not second best to me. You’re it, this is it. I like this, I, I fuckin’,” he takes a breath, “I love… this. I want this.”

“You hurt my feelings, Carmen,” tears brimming your eyes and coating your lashes. “If you’re not done with Claire, I don’t… I don’t care. If I am your second choice, fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Even if I was. But don’t fuck me around if you don’t want me.”

“I do.”

“Are you sure? You weren’t sure last night.”

“I get it if you don’t trust me. I get it. I haven’t given you a reason to.” He searches for the right words, but chooses to take a tentative step towards you. “I’ll beg for you,” he’s quiet, unlike Carmy. “Anything.”

Your eyes meet his briefly, a soft smile pulling at your lip. “I’m not saying yes, okay?” He nods. “But I am saying I would appreciate a ride home tonight. If you’re serious.”

“I’m serious.”

“Good.”

The walk up to your apartment is easy. His heavy steps behind your light ones, hands sliding up the bannister as you unlock your door. He’s on your heels, a little behind. When he steps in your apartment, it’s familiar. Browned butter, vanilla, laundry.

“Do you want dinner?” He’s tentative, letting his shoes sit next to yours on the mat. His jacket goes up on the hooks by the door, together.

“Are you offering?”

“Yes.”

Carmy shows love through food, that’s how he always is. You can tell he’s feeling particularly sorry about it all because he’s bringing out a big pasta pot and a saucepan, pulling the only fresh ingredients left in your place and putting them next to the stove top. Your t-shirt finds its way into the laundry basket, an old sweater thrown over your bare skin.

You hate how normal it all feels, because it’s scary. To think of a domestic life with him, where there’s another girl lingering in the background of his thoughts that he has unfinished business with. Insecurities of who is better, prettier, happier, warmer… if he had the chance, would he leave? Would he jump ship?

He sits next to you while you eat, thighs against thighs, and comfortable silence blanketing your small apartment. He hasn’t gotten into one of the many pairs of pyjamas he’s left at your place, or taken his usual after-work shower, or taken out the frozen cookie dough to thaw. You can tell he’s not sure if he’s welcome here for good, yet.

When your food is done, he pushes the plates away and takes a calloused hand to wrap around yours. There’s sharpie marks small knife cuts on his fingers.

“Are you gonna stay the night?” You ask, still not meeting his gaze.

“Am I welcome to?” He doesn’t sound like himself, and you can feel his warm breath near the top of your head as you turn towards him. Your body collapses a little then, folding slightly at the middle to have your head fall right into the centre of his chest.

“Yes, Carmen,” you nod, letting your eyes flicker up to meet his. “You can stay for as long as you want.”

His hand slipped from yours then, sliding around your side and up your back. He pulled you into his embrace, lips wrapped around yours in a soft capture. Your hands found their way under his t-shirt, only slightly, his warm skin against the palms of your hands, pulling him impossibly closer.

And when you lay in bed with him that night, your face burrowed into the softness of his chest, you know the days of waking up alone are over.

#carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto

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ciaonicole85 · 13 days

Text

Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

I recently wrote a post-season 2 story about Carmy helping with Sydney's apartment search. I wanted to back track a little to get into his head space just after the Friends and Family almost disaster, but prior to the apartment hunt, during which he is hopelessly crushing on Sydney. Mostly, it's backstory and gives more context to why Carmen is who he is :)

When Carmy stumbled frozen and broken out of the walk-in the night of Friends and Family, Sydney was waiting for him. However, something in his eyes made her reconsider whatever she had been planning to say. She pointed him to sit on floor against a stove she had turned on and made him hot tea. Wordlessly she sat on the floor next to him until he finished. When he tried to speak, nothing came out. His icy mottled fist began to circle his chest, but Sydney closed her hand over his.

"We'll start over again tomorrow."

Weeks later Carmen asked her why she hadn't quit that night. She said "Your face…it looked like mine did when I lost Sheridan."

In return she had asked him what happened with Claire and if it had been her fault.

"No. She thought she knew me, but she didn't and honestly, we didn't have anything in common."

The more Carm thought about Claire the sorrier he felt about how he'd behaved and the less he regretted the break-up. Claire was his high school dream girl. She was always kind to him, despite being able to mingle in nearly every clique at school. She was as comfortable with the student government club, as she was with the skaters. Everyone liked her and for no apparent reason she frequently stopped at his locker to ask if he had gum or invite him to study. So he always kept a pack of gum for her, but was too shy to join her study group. Once she and two of her friends ambushed him after school and convinced him to come to a party the night prior to graduation. He decided he might as well not end his high school career without ever having gone to one. The party was held in woods behind one of the football player's homes. There was a bonfire, cheap beer, too few cups, and couples making out or swaying to "Die in Your Arms".

Claire found a clean Solo cup and they shared a drink as she gazed into his eyes.

"I love this song"

"Yeah…it's popular".

Natalie had been playing Justin Bieber non-stop for the last few years and Carm was almost willing to give up all music if he never had to listen to him sing another note.

He didn't remember the rest of the conversation, but at some point Claire kissed him. 12 years later when they began dating she brought up the night of the party and how he looked so surprised and blushed.

"You were so cute. I bet it was your first kiss!"

"No, but almost" he said a little taken aback. As pleased as he was that Claire was interested, he felt like her project. Something about their relationship reminded him of a cheesy 80's teen movie. Too sweet. Not enough acid.

He could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he'd not given her any number, much less a fake one. But it was Claire, the brilliant, fearless, beautiful girl he'd used to sketch over and over again and she wanted HIM. He liked her so much back then. She went off to Michigan State and he began peeling mushrooms at a restaurant eventually becoming Carmen Berzatto "the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America."

But before Claire, in 7th grade summer school, there was Kyla Branson. Carmy needed to take 7th grade math again before they'd pass him to 8th grade and Kyla was a transfer student. She had just finished 6th grade, and was taking 7th grade math and English early, because she was a pianist. A whole freakin' prodigy that would be touring with Eric Clapton later that fall. The math teacher had told the class, much to Kyla's obvious discomfort.

On the third day the class split into pairs to do an assignment and Carmy and Kyla were paired. He could barely look at her. Kyla had thick curly eyelashes which framed her large black brown eyes, her hair was usually brushed up into a soft coily bun like a ballerina, she wore small white diamond earrings in her shockingly small ears, and she had an heart-breakingly cute overbite that showed whenever she smiled. Carmy was gone over this little black girl. She was very shy too, but an overachiever so she persevered in making him talk enough to get the work done.

Once she saw his sketches on the back of his notebook and said he was artist. Using his best charcoal pencils he drew a portrait of her in the privacy of the attic at home. On the last day of summer school he gave it to her when class dismissed and dashed out of the room, his face redder than Heinz ketchup. Kyla caught up with him outside and grabbed his hand leading him out of the view of the car pick-up line.

"Thank you Carmen. I think you're beautiful too" Kyla whispered and kissed him full on the mouth. For three seconds. Then she ran back to the car pick up line, got into her parent's car and Carmen never saw her again.

Once he thought he saw her. The eyes and overbite were startling familiar, but the name was different. It was the day that Sydney Adamu walked into The Beef. It was the day that someone saw who he really was again.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #sydney x carmy #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #syd adamu #fan fiction #fan fic

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hazybisou · 11 months

Text

ONE DATE

fic

reader x mark estapa

summary: a couple weeks after that day, mark and y/n go on their first (official) date.

a/n: part 2 per request so ask and you shall receive. also i think i’m going to turn this into a series but idk yet so let me know if you’d like this to be a series.

you had been stressing for that past ten minutes. mark had asked you out on an official date (if you don’t count all those times you guys hung out and kissed) and you were a nervous wreck. mark had texted you a couple minutes prior saying to dress in something simple. you didn’t know what he meant by simple. simple as in “we’re going to some fancy diner so go all out” or “wear something meant to stay in/go out somewhere causal”. which one was it?

mark hadn’t told you what he had planned for tonight so you went with the second option. you got dressed in a jean mini skirt, not too short but not too long, with a brown leather belt and paired it with a navy blue short sleeve crop top with an oversized leather jacket in case it got cold. you wore your black knee high boots and your hair was in a half up, half down style, the half up being held up by a claw clip.

you had done some light makeup and looked at yourself in the mirror. “this is too much.” you told yourself. out of the corner of your eye you saw natalie, giving you a look that said ‘be so for real right now’. “what? it is.”

“no it’s not. you look hot.” natalie reassured you. “i’m sure mark’ll love it!” that didn’t ease your nerves.

natalie seemed to notice you being tense. “stop worrying.” she went up to your and grabbed your shoulders. “you guys have gone on plenty of unofficial dates in which they always end up with you two making out. what’s so different about this one exactly?”

you nodded to yourself. “yeah. yeah you’re right. it’s just another date except this time he actually had the balls to ask me after all those weeks of knowing each other.” you turned around and stared at yourself once more. “it’s enough. he’ll like it.”

“atta girl! now go grab your camera. we gotta take some photos to remember this moment.” natalie said and you playfully rolled your eyes before doing what she said.

you guys took some cute pics and soon enough you heard the doorbell ring. “he’s here!” she said in a sing-song voice.

you huffed. “wish me luck.” you grabbed your bag, phone, and house keys. you guys exited your room and headed towards the door. you were about to open it when natalie stopped you. you gave her a look. “make him wait a little and then i’ll answer the door and call you so go over there.” she shooed you into the kitchen. you just threw your hands up in a dramatic way.

you guys waited a while before another doorbell ring was heard. natalie snapped her fingers at you to get your attention. she signaled it was go time and opened the door. “mark, hey!”

mark looked down at his feet before looking back up. “hi, is uh y/n here?” he asked. natalie just nodded.

“let me get her real quick.” she closed the door a little. she put a finger up to her lips. “y/n!” she shouted to make the whole thing more dramatic. “he’s here!”

you walked over started to whisper to natalie. “actually don’t wish me luck because i have a feeling of this will end.”

natalie raised her eyebrows. “you mean you two having sex?”

“no!” you whispered

“oh! well whatever, have fun!” she said before skipping towards her room.

you open the door and are met with the nervous face of mark. “oh, y/n, hi!” he suddenly had a smile on his face. that made you smile.

“hi.” you waved at him shyly. “are you okay?”

mark nodded quickly. “yeah. yeah i’m fine. just nervous.” he reassured you with a smile on his face. he finally got a good look at you. you were stunning. “you look beautiful.” he said amazed.

you couldn’t help but blush at his comment. “thank you! you look handsome as always.” he felt his face heat up before holding up a bouquet of flowers and hiding his face behind it. “i got you these.”

you let out a small gasp at the flowers. “they’re beautiful mark! thank you!” you stood on your tippy toes before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“you ready?” he asked you and you nodded.

“let’s go.” you told him as you grabbed his hand and led him to your car. he had the keys so he opened the passenger door for you to get in and you did so, placing the flowers in the backseat, careful to not squish them. he shut the door and went around the front of the car to the driver’s side as you put on the seatbelt.

the car beeped as he opened the door and got in. he got situated and buckled his seatbelt before turning towards you. “let’s go.”

he got out of parking and turned to back out, an arm on the headrest as he looked back and forward again. “where are we going exactly?” you ask him as he begins to drive, now fully backed out.

“it’s a surprise.” mark responds and you give him a suspicious eye look. “you’ll like it don’t worry.”

“mhm.” you turned to look forward.

“i promise.”

━━━━━━━━━━

you were on your phone for the past five minutes, checking your text messages and responding back to them. you were texting your mom back when you suddenly felt colorful lights shining on your face up ahead of you. you looked up but not before turning your phone off. your jaw dropped a tiny bit at the scene in front of you.

mark had taken you guys to a carnival. you could see the ferris wheel in the middle of the place with booth games, food stands, and roller coasters all around it. the ferris wheel kit up with colorful lights and so did the game booth’s signs. it was amazing.

“a carnival?!” you exclaimed as you turned towards mark who just finished parking and turned the car off. he bit his lip slightly and just nodded. you’ve always wanted to go to a carnival since the last time you went which was at the age of 10. it’s been quite some time.

“i asked natalie to give me ideas but none of them felt right,” mark explained, “i thought real hard and the idea just came to me.” mark got out of the car and went around towards your door. he opened it and you got out, giving him a ‘thank you’. “so here we are.”

you looked towards the carnival in awe. it was just like you remember the last one to be.

“you like it?” mark asked hopeful, his hands fidgeting with one another.

you smiled and turned towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “of course i like it! i love it!” you answered and leaned up to press a peck to his lips. “why were you so nervous earlier?”

mark tensed a little but eventually explained. “w-well i was worried you wouldn’t like what i had planned and would bail the next day,” he began, “and i, i know we’ve been on many numerous dates that weren’t really dates but this one’s official. i wanted to make sure everything was perfect and you’d enjoy it.” he laughed. “and i was right. you’re enjoying it.”

you were full on grinning by the end of his rant that you were sure your cheeks would be hurting once you stopped. “mark, even if you hadn’t chose this place and had chose some place else, i would have loved it and had fun anyway. don’t let it get to your head.” you leaned up and gave him a long and slow kiss.

“come on!” you exclaimed as you grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the entrance.

your first stop was at the ring toss booth. you and mark had taken turns throwing the rings and together in total you had scored three meaning you guys had won something. you and mark kept arguing over who would get to choose and you eventually won letting mark choose your guys prize. he had decided on a yoshi plushie.

“it’s cute!” you told him as you took a good look at it before putting it next to your face and smiling before putting it down.

mark turned towards you. “do that again.” he instructed and you gave him a confused look. “the thing you just did with yoshi.”

“ohhh!” you repeated what you had just done and saw mark take his phone out before he began taking photos of you. he looked through them with a smile on his face. he slide his phone back into his pocket. “let’s go.”

you spent the next two hours playing various booth games and arguing over who got to choose the prize. you guys had given the bigger prizes to the younger kids as you both didn’t want them all. by the end, you were walking around holding a small teddy bear mark had won you while he held his yoshi plushie he had won earlier. you gave the bear the name lovey as it had a heart and bow tie.

you noticed a cotton candy stand and couldn’t help but drag mark over. “you want one?” you ask as you turned your head slightly to face him. he gave a small nod. “okay, then we’ll just share.” you asked for blue raspberry and the young man behind told you it’d be three dollars. you were about to pull out a five but mark beat you to it. you turned towards him with disbelief. “why the hell’d you do that?”

“i’m not letting you pay. i’m taking you out meaning i pay. not you. me.” he explained as he pointed to himself. he grabbed the cotton candy from the man as he thanked him before handing it to you. “here you go”

you gave him a sarcastic smile before taking it from his grasp and grabbing a small bit with your fingers. you guys walked around a bit more while eating the cotton candy, talking about all sorts of things. mark was always an easy person to talk to. he always payed attention to what you had to say and you did too. he wouldn’t interrupt but would rather nod and just smile. he was a sweet boy.

you thought for a while before walking over to a trash can nearby and throwing away the stick you had before taking back lovey from mark. you grabbed his hand and began to walk towards a photo booth.

mark looked at you weirdly. you motioned for him to get in. “get in.” his eyes widened a bit sarcastically before obeying. you got in after him, closing the curtain. you pay the amount needed and clicked start as a voice began to talk, explaining what was to happen.

the timer was about to start and mark panics. “what do we do?!”

you thought before you decided. “silly faces,” you rethought. “yea a silly face.” mark nodded and you both did a goofy pose. the timer began and you pointed to the camera. “look there.” the timer went off and so did a click. you both looked at the screen and there was the photo.

it reset and you just grabbed mark’s jaw with one hand while the other one was on your lap as you pressed a kiss to his cheek as mark closed his eyes and scrunched his nose. the timer went off again and so did a click. the photo displayed on the screen before it rest again.

the process repeated twice more. mark and you smiling for the third picture and finally, mark giving you a kiss on the lips as you laughed for the fourth picture.

you both got out and grabbed the strip of photos. “you look so cute!” you exclaimed as you point to the face he did in the second photo. mark couldn’t help but blush as he hid his face in your hair. “what, it’s true!”

“let’s just go before i start getting even more red.” he said and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“whatever you say lover boy.” you told him as you brought his head out of your hair and pressed a kiss to his cheek before grabbing his hand and beginning to walk to your next stop.

━━━━━━━━━━

it was around 9:30 pm when you and mark had decided to leave. you were both in the car, driving back when mark turned to you, “let’s go get ice cream.”

you turned to him with raised eyebrows. “this late?” he nodded. you shrugged, “i’m down. let’s go then.”

you went to the nearest ice cream shop (which was in a shopping plaza) and found parking. mark had gotten out and went over to your side to open the door for you as you unbuckled your seatbelt. you got out and closed the car door, mark locking the car. you both went inside and got in line to order.

after a couple of minutes, it was your guy’s turn to order. “hi! can i get vanilla?” you asked and the lady behind the counter nodded and you turned to mark, “what about you?”

“mint.”

“ew.” you whispered under your breath.

“don’t judge me.” mark said as he held a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. “ya know that really broke my heart.” he started to fake cry.

you slapped his shoulder and he muttered a small ‘ow’. “shut up you big baby.” he flipped you off and you did the same.

you guys had ordered and were now at the register. you had your card ready in order to pay and do it before mark. “that’d be 9.47” you grabbed your card and swiped it through the card machine before mark had a chance to even pull out his wallet.

“why?” mark asked as he threw his arms up in frustration.

“because why not.”

mark rolled his eyes before you both got your ice cream cones and walked out.

“why’d you pay for us?” mark began and you turned to him as you began to enjoy your ice cream, “this was my treat. i asked you out and i’m meant to pay.” you couldn’t help but laugh.

“just know it’s gonna happen a lot more often.” you told him and he began to shake his head vigorously. “yes it is.”

mark started to disagree. “no it won’t. i’ll make sure you don’t bring your wallet or anything like that. i’ll ask natalie to steal it from you until after our date. including apple pay.”

you just shook your head with a laugh before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “you’re too much sometimes estapa.”

mark smiled. “i don’t really care, now do i?”

it’s 12 am rn and this sucks but like you asked for it so here you go. lmk if i should make this unit a series bc i lowkey want to but gotta know if you guys would also like it!! (not proofread)

#mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa blurb #umich boys #umich hockey #nhl #isa’s works #i’m too tired for this ✨✨

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 11 months

Note

what about picture 4 for an angst to fluff type of thing!

OK, this is part 2 of THIS REQUEST where Harry is your childhood crush...

You had no idea what to do. You felt completely betrayed and shocked and hurt at what was going on. Both Harry and Nat had tried to talk to you before Nat just told Harry to go home and that’ she’d try again. But understandably so, you didn’t want anything to do to her.

*****

“How could you do that!?” Mandy scolded Natalie as she explained to her what was going on.

“Ugh, just hear me out!” She explained and Mandy sat and tried to keep her anger towards Nat in check, “Harry and I…know each other from before.” She explained and Mandy looked at her like she was crazy.

“What?!”

“Yeah…we met on a dating app while I did my year abroad in Italy. He was there on a long holiday and we matched and met up. He was so hot and nice and fun and we went out and he showed me the time of my life!” She explained, “We literally spent almost every day together for the 3 weeks that he was there. And like, we kept in touch for a bit after but stopped talking when he said he started to see someone else. I was heartbroken, but like we were just hooking up you know? So I got over it eventually.” She explained and Mandy frowned, “I even have pictures to prove it!” She said and Mandy shook her head.

“No, it’s alright. I believe you.” She said and Nat sighed.

“Like, it had just been so great, like a whirlwind romance and even though my feelings for him were gone I could never forget him! Like it was just such a wild and fun thing. When Y/N told us she wanted us to meet a childhood friend of hers and then he turned up I was stunned! It’s been two years since that happened, but like I said, I could never forget him! He messaged me after to see how I had been and we just chatted back and forth through the next day and that was all! I didn’t think to bring it up or anything because he wasn’t flirting or asking me out or anything, just legitimately catching up and I didn’t know that he’d be around so often. Then a few weeks later he finally asked me out and I said no, because Y/N had just told us about him kissing her the week before and how she had a crush on him!” She explained, “And I confronted him about the kiss and he said that he just did it without thinking about it, but I told him that was BS, but he said it was pointless anyway because her brother would be pissed and he didn’t want to ruin a friendship with Y/N or her brother so he was just gonna leave it alone.” She said through her tears and Mandy sighed.

“Why didn’t you just tell her that you guys knew each other? Or that you liked him too?”

“Let me clarify that I’m into him, but it’s not that deep. Like I wanted to talk to her as soon as he asked me out, but he said he would do it. Harry said he needed to talk to her about the kiss too and I just…figured he’d do it soon! I thought he had because there were a few days a couple weeks ago when I felt like she was avoiding me a bit and you know how she is when she gets upset, she just needs space to get over it. And maybe I just imagined that she was being odd with me because I just felt guilty about him asking me out or something? I wouldn’t have been seeing him the last few weeks if I knew he hadn’t talked to her about it yet! I just found out the day before your party that he still hadn’t talked to her and so I told him that if he didn’t do it in the next few days it was done.” She explained and Mandy sighed. “I feel awful about it, Mandy! Like I know I should’ve been more on top of it, but I just was so nervous about it. I’ve never been in a situation like this before!” She groaned with tearful eyes as she shook her head.

“What a mess…” Mandy said and Natalie nodded.

“I know, I know…and I’m not exactly sure what Harry said to her, but I swear, we barely hooked up last night! We’ve just been going out to dinner or just walking around the park and we went out to the midnight garden thing once with some of my friends! Like it hasn’t been like a weekly thing or anything like that because I was just really wary of doing too much, you know? But last night we were both a little drunk and he said he had told her so I just…” she sighed and shook her head. “She’s never going to forgive me.” Natalie frowned sadly.

“You know, Y/N isn’t that kind of person, Nat.”

“I know, but this is vastly different, Mandy! Like this looks so bad!” She sniffled, “I told him it wasn’t going to work.” She said sadly and Mandy frowned, “It’s too messy, like you said.”

“OK, but you actually have a romantic history with him…she’ll understand.”

“She’s in love with him…it’s not just a crush and I think…he likes her a lot more than he lets on. I think I was just a distraction for him.” She said, “Like he’d always bring her up in some way and like…I feel stupid for not realizing it sooner.”

“Fuck…I’m sorry, Nat.”

“I feel like I deserve it.” She said and Mandy sighed, “I guess I’m just as naive as I was when I first met Harry.” She concluded.

“Or maybe he just knows how to play you.” Mandy said and Natalie sighed.

“Whatever, it’s over though. I would much rather try and earn back Y/N’s trust and friendship than to have some guy.” She said.

“Well that makes me feel like your priorities are in check.” Mandy said and Natalie chuckled, “Or was the sex that bad?”

“No…it’s…so fucking far from bad…” she said with a slight chuckle and Mandy winced.

“Well, I’m sorry you’re saying goodbye.” Natalie shook her head.

“I’m not. Like I said, as much as I’m into him, this friendship matters more.” She said with certainty.

*******

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Mandy asked you as she came into your bedroom.

“Like shit.” You huffed as you sat up. Your eyes were so swollen and your chest felt heavy, “Harry keeps texting, saying this is all his fault…”

“Well, I talked to Nat and it kind of is in like a technical form but…like obviously, she knows she did wrong in this, but things are not as deep as they may have seemed between them.” She said and you sighed.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Mandy assured, “Do you love him?” She asked carefully and your eyes welled up.

“Yes…fuck!” You groaned and Mandy sighed.

“It’s alright…I think he might also be a bit confused about his feelings based on what Nat said. And like…I know you like to work through things on your own when you’re upset, but she really wants to apologize and explain this to you.” Mandy said and you sighed.

“I’m just not ready to talk to her about this. I’m more upset at him though for…making me feel like he was interested in me.”

“Well maybe he is and he just…got scared and changed course.” Mandy said and you sighed. You didn’t want to have any hope, not now. As you thought about last night’s events you recalled that he had tried to talk to you about more than just him seeing someone and you had cut him off because you were ashamed. Maybe that’s what he had tried to tell you, that he liked Nat.

“But like, why wouldn’t Nat tell me she likes him too?” You asked and Mandy sighed.

“You need to talk to her about that.” Mandy said, you groaned as you fell back onto your mattress and she sighed.

“I feel stupid for being upset because it’s not like we have anything more than a friendship, you know? Like…I never made a move on him or anything, until yesterday when he shot me down and I…locked myself in here like an idiot.” You said.

“Rejection is hard, bub. That’s understandable. And if it makes you feel a bit better they were not all over each other at the party or anything like that. She knows you prefer space so she’s getting out of here for a few days.” Mandy shared.

“Oh, who’s taking her in? Harry?” You asked with a scoff and Mandy rolled her lips together for a second and she shook her head.

“Ummm, when he was leaving she told him things between them weren’t going to work out. So no, not Harry. Maybe someone from her program.” She shared and you frowned. Sure, your feelings were hurt, but if she liked him and he liked her it made you feel bad that she ended things with him just because of you.

“Wait, because of me?”

“Well yeah…the way you reacted kind of made her realize that you don’t just have a crush on him like you had told us…and she said that she’d rather work on fixing your relationship than making things work with him.”

“Mandy…” you sighed sadly, now feeling bad for this and she sighed.

“Look, the three of us have never had any issues. You can be mad at her and hurt for this, but at the end of the day we’ve all been the best of friends this whole time, you know? And she’s willing to sacrifice that for you and I, because we’re more important than a guy to her. And I’m not siding with her, but what I’m saying is that in order to get to the bottom of this you’ll also need to take a step, you know? Like she’s taken hers and done what she can to correct this and to give you time and space, so ball’s in your court.” Mandy said and you nodded. “I’m gonna go get some dinner, want anything?”

“Depends.”

“I’m getting Chinese takeaway.”

“Then no. You realize Chinese food here is a joke, right?”

“I can’t decide that until I’ve gone to America.” She reminded and you smiled, “Be back later, OK?” She said and you nodded.

You laid in bed for a bit longer as you thought about what Mandy had said. Natalie had never done anything sketchy or mean-spirited in anyway to you or Mandy in the past. She had always been so supportive and helpful and such a good friend. People made mistakes…and you wished she had just been more open from the start, but that was also kind of unfair of you to ask for because you were never open. You were never willing to talk about difficult things, you just liked to figure things out on your own, last night was the evidence. Harry tried to confront a difficult situation with you and you ran away. How could you expect someone to just talk about challenging things with you when you weren’t open to having challenging conversations? Yes, she hadn’t dealt with this in the best way but she had never done anything to make you question her friendship before. And you did want to know what was going on with her and Harry… you picked up your phone and texted Harry that you needed some space and he just said to take your time and that was that.

********

It had been three days and you had texted Natalie that she could come home. Your negative feelings had mostly faded, all that was left now were questions. Questions about what was going on and how anything between them had even unfolded.

“Hey.” She said as she came in with her bag to find you on the couch waiting for her arrival. Mandy had stepped out to give you guys some space to discuss, but you wished she had stayed, tough conversations were definitely not your strong suit - communication in general was not something you were great at.

“Hi.” You responded and she frowned right away.

“I’m really, really sorry, Y/N! I know I fucked up, but I swear, we weren’t fooling around this whole time behind your back! We just hung out a couple of times.” She said and you sighed.

“OK, but like how did this even happen?” You asked and she sighed as she sat across from you.

“We had a fling 2 years ago during my year abroad.” She explained and your eyes widened in surprise and now you felt even more stupid. That was before you even knew Natalie and plenty of time after you’d seen Harry last.

“What?!” You asked.

“Yeah, he was on holiday in Rome and I was studying there and we met on a dating app and just…met up and yeah. Like obviously, it wasn’t anything serious, he was just there in passing for a few weeks.” She explained, “And when I saw him again with you it was just surprising. And he didn’t ask me out until after he had kissed you and I said no! I swear I did, because he had just kissed you like a week before! Then he said he needed to be the one to talk to you about it and I stupidly believed he would do it right away.” Natalie shook her head and you frowned, “I just…let him handle it against my better judgement. I didn’t know he would be so nervous or take so long to talk to you about this. I’m sorry you had to find you the way you did, but that was the first time anything physical happened between us! Well like, this time around. He had said he talked to you and we were a bit drunk and one thing led to another.” She explained and you nodded in understanding.

“Mandy told me you ended it.”

“I did.” She confirmed.

“Why? He likes you, you like him-”

“Because our friendship matters more to me than whatever fling I’d have with Harry.”

“But he wants you…”

“I don’t know about that…I do like Harry, but it’s more of a physical thing for us. Like we don’t have all that much in common otherwise. We’re attracted to each other, that’s all.” She explained, “But we’re friends! We do have a legitimate history and relationship. Like you also have with him. I think he wanted to be the one to tell you because you mean a lot to him. Like…he didn’t kiss you just because. Or at least I don’t think he did.” You sighed and shook your head.

“This is crazy, Nat…”

“I know. And again, I’m so sorry and I’m more than willing to be patient as we try and get back on track because I definitely should’ve done better. Well, if you still want to be friends.” She said and you nodded.

“Of course I do, Nat.” You sighed and she sighed in relief.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like yeah, Harry means a lot to me, but like, you do too. It’s crazy you knew him before.” You chuckled and Nat nodded.

“Oh, I know. It’s a small world…I wanted to run away when I realized it was him but like, I knew it was important to you for us to meet and like…I promise you it wasn’t anything flirtatious or with other intentions when we first talked. It was just a catch up.” She said with a sigh and you nodded. “I should’ve said something. I’m so sorry for not saying something right away. I just…I don’t know, like it’s the past and when it ended I had been really sad over him. So I just…didn’t want to relive it when I knew that we weren’t like serious couple material. I would rather just interact with him as your friend than an ex-fling, you know?” She said and you nodded in understanding.“Confronting things is really hard for me too sometimes.” She admitted.

“It can be for everyone.” You assured.

“I just umm…I get it if you still need some time to get past all the feelings.” She said and you nodded.

“Thank you. And please move back in…I’m not like angry at you. I think I just…need to talk to Harry about it all.”

“Thank you. And yeah…I don’t know how he’s been either. How’s he been at work?”

“Just… glancing at me, hoping each day that passes is the day we’ll talk…” you mumbled.

“Well…I mean…how do you feel about him?”

“I…like him…a lot.” You confessed and Nat smiled, “I umm…I kissed him yesterday when he was trying to talk to me. He ummm…he kissed me back for a second there.” You confessed and glanced up to Nat, she didn’t seem upset or phased by this information, “And then he stopped and told me that he was seeing someone. That’s all he said. He definitely didn’t say it was you. I mean…he probably tried to but I locked myself in my room, dying of shame…” you grumbled.

“I think he likes you a lot too…he’s just worried that it’ll make things weird between you two and your brother. He would always bring you up when he could…” Natalie said with a small smile and you shook your head.

“It doesn’t really matter though…I mean at the end of the school year I’m going back to America and he’ll be here so…it’s not worth getting hurt over, you know?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Natalie frowned.

“I forgot you don’t live here.” She said and you chuckled.

“Me too…but I mean, it could all just pass me by, you know? Like he’s just been someone I’ve had a crush on my whole life. I think I always will have a crush on him, like he’s that guy for me. But ummm…yeah I never even considered that I would actually get to be with him. So maybe that’s why when he kissed me I just…let my imagination run wild.” You scoffed.

“It wasn’t a kiss! It was a steamy snog-a-thon! And you don’t snog people you’re not into unless your absolutely plastered so…I don’t know, maybe you guys could make the most of your time here?”

“I don’t know, Nat… especially after this with you guys…like a part of him has to like you at least a little bit.”

“Sure. But the part that likes you is greater, or at least I think so, so it’s fine by me.” She assured and you pouted.

“After I had nearly a week long fit over you sleeping with a guy who’s not even mine to claim.” You groaned into your hands and she sniggered.

“He’s not mine to claim either. And well, given the optics of the situation it did look really bad. Not gonna lie…” she admitted, “But again, it’s not that deep for me. At least not anymore. Ask me two years ago and I would’ve probably dueled you for him.” She said with a smile and you cackled as she sat beside you and hugged you, “I’m kidding. I love you and I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You responded with a small smile as you relaxed into her hug.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” She hummed and you could feel her relief emanating off of her, “When are you gonna talk to Harry?” She asked and you shrugged.

“I’m just not ready for that.” You explained and she nodded in understanding.

**********

It had been three whole weeks and you still hadn’t even hinted at Harry that you’d have a conversation. And as time dragged on he had slowly but surely given up hope. He knew you were avoidant of difficult conversations and situations, but you seemed absolutely fine now which was what really was hurting his feelings. He at least thought that he meant more to you than just whatever had led you to just moving on like he was nothing to you. He thought that he meant at least enough that you’d be interested in hearing him out. He was currently in bed admittedly a bit drunk - a perfect recipe for disaster. And while he knew that you had asked him to leave you alone he just needed to apologize, it was killing him to keep all of this inside.

To Y/N:

Hey, I’m really sorry for everything that happened with Natalie. I know how it looks but I never meant to lead you on or to get I between you and your best friend. I was just confused and I shouldn’t have done anything impulsive. I’m gonna save the explanation of how it went down because I’m sure she’s shared that with you, but I understand why you don’t want to talk to me anymore. I was an idiot, I know that. And as much as I wish you’d give me the opportunity to do this in person, I get why you don’t want that. I get the message, I’ll stop now.

*******

It was inching on midnight when you saw Harry’s text and it felt that your heart sank into your stomach. What did he mean he’d stop now? Like stop being your friend? You didn’t even think about it twice when you slipped on a sweater and hurried out of the flat. You knew it was stupid to go hail a cab near midnight but you were really upset by his message and you felt so bad, even while deep down you felt that you had nothing to feel bad for. You gave the cabbie his address and you took off.

There wasn’t much traffic since it was late so the drive was fairly quick and soon you were paying as the man dropped you off in front of Harry’s building. You made your way inside and to his door and knocked hard several times. It took him a bit to open it up but when you did he looked like he’d been crying and your anger melted away as you started to feel compassion for him creeping into you.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked you, clearly he had been drinking.

“You texted me.”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me like the fucking plague!” He said and you frowned, “I know that tough conversations aren’t something you like but I’ve had to keep this inside for three fucking weeks waiting for you to decide on when you feel up to talking to me. And I get it, we’re done, but I just needed to apologize. I’m sorry, I know you asked me to leave you alone, but it has sucked for me too! And I just…I miss how we were and I get that you’re over it-”

“Harry-”

“But I just needed to tell you that I fucked up. OK? I knew I should’ve talked to you sooner but I was worried that it’d ruin things between you and Natalie and I got nervous so I…just put it off. And well, I also didn’t want to hurt your feelings after we had…” he said and your eyebrows creased.

“Kissed?” You asked and he nodded, “Well you kissed me actually and I just…kissed back.” You clarified.

“Right.” He nodded, “Look, that was…wrong of me.” He said and you felt your heart sink even deeper.

“Oh…” you responded softly as you felt a lump forming in your throat.

“Wait, wait, wait that came out wrong!” He said quickly, “I’m a little drunk and I can’t think straight when I…when I’m around you.” He explained, “I know it’s fucked up and so immature but I needed a distraction and Natalie and I have…been together before and we had fun and like, I knew that it wasn’t going to move into serious territory and-”

“You explaining yourself is somehow making it worse…” you said and he groaned.

“I’m impaired OK! Just…give me a sec!” He said and you sighed, “When we reconnected and I saw how you’ve grown…god, that sounds weird…” he said and you sniggered, “Hey-”

“Impaired, I know.” You cut in and he nodded.

“I really quickly realized that I like you. A lot.” He confessed, “And admittedly, I freaked out because I know how your brother would react if he knew that I even looked at you in a way other than just his kid sister. But after everything went down a few weeks ago I realized that you’re an adult, I’m an adult, and we can make our own choices. I’m not a self-serving player like I used to be in university, though my recent behavior might prove otherwise.” He said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I like you too, Harry. But…maybe all of this is a sign that anything between us would not be a good idea.” You sighed and he frowned.

“Y/N-”

“Look at us…this is just not possible.” You said.

“Because I was too concerned about what everyone else might think about us but that doesn’t matter, does it? It’s just what I think and what you think about the possibility of us.” He said and you shook your head.

“Well, there’s that but ummm…it’s mostly because I’m graduating in a month and I’m going to be moving back home.” You reminded and he frowned.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” You said with a small frown, “I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant of you…because I knew that this conversation was going to suck in more ways than one.” You explained sadly, “Believe me I…have so many feelings for you but ummm…I just don’t think it’ll work out.” More than anything, his disappointment made you feel like shit.

“W-well what if you got a job offer at the firm?” He asked and you scoffed.

“Get real, Harry.” You said and he smiled.

“I am!”

“You’re impaired.” You reminded and he smiled.

“I am! By my feelings for you.” He said with a slight grin and you rolled your eyes playfully, “Look, I know that I’ve been stupid but I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you and I just have this gnawing feeling that I would regret it for the rest of my life if I never tried.” He said to you. You loved him…but how would this even work? It was guaranteed to be more pain than pleasure for the foreseeable future.

“Harry, the last thing I want is to hurt you and for you to hurt me! I don’t see how we can do this without one or both of us getting hurt.” You explained. “I’m too scared to lose you…”

“I get it.” He said quietly with a small pout and you licked over your lips.

“But I…might also be falling for you.” You said, “Or…maybe have already…fallen f-for you.” Your voice was a whisper by the end of your sentence and he was smiling at you.

“Well I may have also already fall for you if we’re being honest.” He responded and you smiled at him with hopeful eyes. “I’m so fucking drunk…there’s no way I would’ve been able to say that to you with such ease if I was even a tiny bit sober.” He confessed and you giggled and shook your head.

“Should we get you to bed?” You asked and he nodded.

“Please.” He sighed and you smiled and pushed him inside.

Thankfully he was already in loungewear so you just guided him through his bedtime routine and made him drink a glass of water before he got into bed.

“You gonna get in with me?” He asked and you bit your lip.

“No funny business though.” You said quietly.

“Yeah, I pinky swear.” He said extending his hand out to you and you wrapped your finger around his for a moment, “Might still get hard though for…obvious reasons, but just don’t mind it and it’ll settle down…eventually.” He said and you chuckled as he smiled up at you from his pillow.

“Fine.” You responded and he immediately scooted over to make space for you. You switched off his bedside lamp and turned around, you felt his soft exhales just a few inches away from you. You bit your lip and just shook off any hesitation as you close the space between you two to kiss him. You could feel Harry smile into the kiss which ended it naturally. “Sorry.” You whispered against his lips breathily, “Broke my own rule.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He whispered back, his voice slightly cracking with his rasp, it sent a chill through your body. You pecked his lips before you turned around and settled against him and as he cuddled up closer you felt his cock bulging into your backside and you bit your lip, he felt quite big. “Sorry, love”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” You said back to him and he chuckled, “Night.”

“G’night.” He hummed.

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