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#give me a number and i'll freeze
thickenmyblood · 11 months
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Hi! I'm loving HIUH but I just have one question - what is the timeline for Laurent's life, particularly his life with his uncle? In your previous post you said something about how Laurent only lived in poverty for around a year when he took the uncle to court, so he was around 20/21, also when he first met Damen? Did he continue to live with the uncle, minus when he was forcibly locked away? With that being said, does that mean he only intervened and stood up to his uncle through legal means when he met Nicaise, but not for any other previous boy? Was he *at the mercy* of the uncle when Auguste was away at college, or did Auguste die before then, because I think one of the flashbacks mentioned Laurent vaguely telling his brother about Damen, which would mean Auguste was alive when Laurent was in squalor, but I could be misremembering that. This is more than one question haha but the central theme is just the timeline of Laurent's life before Damen I guess lol. I also tried really hard to keep saying 'his/the uncle' instead of the long list of other names he'd deserve to be called. Again, I love HIUH and your characterisation, storyline and angst are amazing - thank you :)
hello, friend. i'm sorry for the long wait. as a disclaimer: a year and a half ago someone asked me a similar question and i admitted without (too much) shame that math is not my thing. therefore, in my head, it made sense that lamen dated for four years. . . but then nicaise's age wasn't adding up to many readers, and that's when i realized they should have been dating for closer to SIX years instead of four. having said this, PLEASE ignore that mistake lmao. this is a rough timeline of laurent's life, where i FIXED the age issue (it is NOT fixed in the story bc i. . . have a life and haven't had time yet): - 12 years old: Aleron and Hennike die. - 12 years old-13 years old: Laurent and Auguste live together. See: Laurent's comment about his year with Auguste -> "It was just me and Auguste for a whole year. It was the best year." - 13 years old: Auguste dies. Uncle becomes Laurent's guardian. - 13 years old-15.5 years old: Uncle. - 16 years old: Laurent is institutionalized. Laurent comes back. Nicaise is living with them now. See: Laurent's explanations to Damen in a flashback -> Laurent crossed his legs. “I spent some time away. At sixteen.” He’s looking down at his plate, his hair a blonde curtain. “When I came back home, Nicaise was there. It wasn’t the best time for… I wasn’t the best.” - 16 years old-18 years old: Laurent gains Nicaise's trust, tries through many different routes and strategies to get Nicaise taken away/his uncle punished but, ultimately, they all fail. - 18 years old: Laurent moves out slash runs away with a plan to finally put his uncle in jail. He gets cut off monetarily. - 18 years old-20 years old*: Legal battle + Laurent meets Damen. - 20 years old-26 years old: Lamen date. - 26 years old: Laurent breaks up with Damen.
*i said, in a different ask, that the legal battle lasted roughly close to a year. in the og draft it was like a year and a half, but honestly, it's anywhere between 1.5 to 2 years. sue me. i dont' know how to do numbers, okay?
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bepisconsumer · 1 year
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With every passing day I become more and more convinced that by far the most controversial opinion I hold is that Fahrenheit is a perfectly fine measurement system for temperature actually
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nicksolemnlyswears · 3 months
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THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE
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summary: in which carmy falls for the sweet café owner that supplies him with endless americanos
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
word count: 14.4k
warning: it's a little bit of a slow burn. sorry. i'm a sucker for it and i feel like carmy is a slow burn kinda guy. 18 +, cursing, smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), fingering, they use protection guys! i deserve a pat in the back. nothing too wild. oh, and very brief mention of suicide.
a/n: i started writing this way back in october and then it was nearly done and i abandoned it. well i finally got around to completing it tonight!
this is my first time ever writing for carmy and i tried my best writing this. i love carmy and the show but i didn’t expect it to be hard to write him as a character. i wanted to get him right so i took my time with it and didn’t rush it. hopefully you guys like my carmy. enjoy!
i think i've had this stored in my drafts for like 4 months and it's time for me to set it free.
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The cigarettes were not enough anymore. No matter how many smoke breaks Carmy took, he still felt the edge on his shoulders. A fear laced with anxiety that overtook him.
After deciding that blowing through yet another wall in his restaurant was the way to go, Carmy took a break. He needed it before he used the sledgehammer to destroy the restaurant in its entirety, along with his dream.
He remembers a coffee shop only a block away from The Bear and thinks he could use a coffee right about now. Maybe the mixture of caffeine and nicotine will be able to relax his shoulders, if only for an hour.
As soon as he opens the door, the smell of ground coffee beans greets him. He looks around, taking in the cozy ambiance the decorative wood brings to the place and the splashes of warm yellow that lighten it up.
Then he sees you, and his focus shifts entirely. His eyes only see you.
"Hi, welcome to Bee Hive!" You chirp with a small smile.
Carmy freezes, forgetting why he's there in the first place. He slowly steps up to the register, where you patiently wait for him. It's just after the lunch rush, so you're in no hurry.
He finds he's acting like a teenager who has just seen a pretty girl. Only he's not a teenager, and you're more than a pretty girl.
"What can I get for you today?" You ask, not noticing the effect you've had on him. You take a sharpie out of your yellow apron, preparing to scribble down his order in a cup.
Carmy has perfected the empty on the outside but screaming on the inside face. Strangers don't tend to know he's almost always losing his shit.
"I-I don't…sorry," Carmy looks at you briefly before diverting his eyes. He apologizes in a flurry, looking for an excuse for his weird behavior, "Uh, it's my first time here. What do you recommend?"
"It's not a problem," you say softly as if to calm him, "I'm a simple girl. I love the latte, but if you're looking for something stronger, the americano is one of the favorites."
Carmy nods as you ramble about the drinks, where the coffee beans come from, and the different notes of each blend. He hangs onto every word that slips from your lips. The static in his brain clearing up for the first time in hours.
It ends too soon as you realize you're talking too much and probably overwhelmed him. You sheepishly smile at him and trail off, but he continues to stare, waiting for you to continue.
"I'll take the Americano," Carmy nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. Although he had been hanging to every one of your words, he was too focused on the shape of your lips and the sweet tone of your voice.
"Good choice," you nod, grabbing a cup from the tray beside you, "What's your name?"
Carmy looks up, slightly alarmed, as if you've asked for his social security number. "What?" He thinks you'll be forward and ask for his number next, seemingly forgetting how coffee orders work.
"Your name? For the order?" You explain, trying to ease his worries. He's odd, but in an endearing way. You believe this is his first time here because you're confident you would've remembered him.
"Fuck, right, yeah," he nervously says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "My name's Carmen."
"Your Americano will be right out, Carmen," you tell him, capping your sharpie back up.
Carmy quickly pays and stands to the side to wait for his order. He forces himself to not look at you or in your direction as you take other customers' orders. He just knows he's made a fool of himself already. Not that it matters. Why would it matter? He's there for the coffee. Nothing else, no one else.
As he walks out of Bee Hive, he sips his coffee. His shoulders instantly drop, and his fear-induced anxiety starts to dissipate for the moment. He's unsure if the effect is because of the caffeine or the thoughts of your pretty smile.
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Visiting your coffee shop becomes routine for Carmy. Whenever things at The Bear become crazy -or he starts to lose his fuckin' mind- he makes his way to Bee Hive with a cigarette hanging from his lips.
For twenty minutes, he's free of Richie's constant hounding, Sugar's struggles with the permits and scheduling, and Sydney's disappointment because the menu is still extremely underway.
Each time he's stopped by, you've been there to greet him, and each time, you've left a little heart by Carmen's name, which makes his heart race in a peculiar way. His hands would touch his chest to check if it was heartburn, but it didn't feel like that. It's not anxiety either cause he knows pretty well how that feels.
All he knows is he hasn't done anything to deserve such a gesture. He's convinced himself you draw little hearts for everyone because he's not special.
One Thursday afternoon, Carmy realizes he doesn't know your name. He looks for a name tag, but you're not wearing one on your yellow apron. He should know your name if you insist on making small talk despite his short answers.
He can't help it. He gets too in his head to answer like a normal person, so his answers come out choppy and dry.
"Alright, Carmen, your order will be right out," you say, handing his cup to one of the baristas. You always hold out and ask him what he wants to order. He has the right to change his mind anytime, but for now, he's stuck with the americano, which he drowns in sugar.
As curiosity eats at him, he gathers the courage to ask. "Thanks. Hey, uh, I've-I’ve never gotten your name…” Carmy says, cursing at himself for not formulating the question correctly. His hand comes up to grip his hair instinctually.
Your smile widens when he asks your name. The silly crush you've developed for your customer fluttering to life. It's just a crush over a stranger, nothing to write home about.
You tell him your name but follow it with "-call me Honey. Everyone knows me by that name. I'm sure if you ask my friends about me with my real name, you'll throw them for a loop."
You're rambling, hoping he doesn't think calling you by your nickname is weird. Then again, how can he judge when he has a sister people call 'Sugar' and he and his siblings also don the nickname 'Bear.'
"Honey." Carmy repeats your nickname, smiling as he finds it fitting. "In that case, call me Carmy."
"Nice to properly meet you, Carmy," you say, grinning.
Like all the days before, Carmy steps aside and waits for his coffee. He doesn't let himself continue the conversation or ask more about you even if it’s everything he wants to do.
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It's rare for Carmy to be in a good mood, and whenever it happens, it doesn't tend to last. His goal of opening a restaurant in 12 weeks makes it impossible for him to relax and enjoy the ride. To prolong this unusual feeling, Carmy stops by Bee Hive on his way to The Bear.
"Have you made your boss angry, Honey?" He asks as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He ordered the americano as he always does.
"No…why do you ask?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion.
"Uh, 'cause you-you're always here. Do you not take days off? Not that I'm complaining. I-I like seeing you here." Carmy's words get quieter as he speaks, red creeping up his neck. So much for trying to make a joke.
You look around the room and tell him, "Imma let you in on a little secret."
Carmy follows your hand, waving him to get closer. The smell of cigarettes invades your senses as you get close to him. You'd never admit that the mix of his cigarettes and your coffee is addicting. As both lean over the counter, you whisper, "I'm the boss. I can't run away even if I wanted to."
"You own the coffee shop," Carmy pans in shock.
Carmy is more than surprised at your words. Especially now that he knows how expensive it is to open a business. You can't be a day over 25 and own a successful coffee place. There is hope, after all.
"I do," you nod, standing straight once more.
A couple of years ago, you had inherited a hefty amount of money from an estranged aunt. Fresh out of college and with no real plan, you thought it would be a good moment to follow your dream and open the cozy café.
"How do you do it?" Carmy asks, amazed at the girl smiling at him. "I don't know if you know, but, um, I-I'm opening the restaurant around the block. Used to be The Beef?" He finishes grimly as he points to his side of the block.
"Oh, yeah. The guys who worked there helped me move some equipment when I first opened two years ago," you reveal, "Tell you what, whenever you have a break, come around. I'll give you a free americano and tell you all about it. Neighbor to neighbor."
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Carmy agrees. "I'll take you up on that."
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Weeks go by, and Carmy seemingly forgets about Bee Hive and your pending conversation. You try not to overthink about his absence or how you might've scared him away. He's probably just busy remodeling his restaurant. You know better than anyone how much time that takes.
Still, his presence has become part of your routine, and you can't help but look at the door each time the bell rings. You expect to see him walking up to the counter, the remnants of cigarette smoke coming out his nose as he breathes.
You're pretty close to your assumption because Carmy has been dealing with the fire suppression test. They didn't fail the test once but twice, and if they didn't pass it on the third try, their plan to open the restaurant in 12 weeks goes out the window. Fak has tried everything, and nothing works.
He'd sent Richie once on a coffee run, but the fuckin' idiot went to the nearest Starbucks. Carmy had been looking forward to tasting your coffee and seeing his name in the cup with the little heart because he's 100% sure he's the only Carmen you know. It's not a common name in these parts of town.
One very early morning, he's walking to work, and as he passes Bee Hive, he sees you inside, wiping tables down before you open at 6:30.
Impulsively, he knocks on the glass, not giving himself the time to overthink things. You turn to look at the window and see him standing outside, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his familiar plaid jacket to protect himself from the chilly March air.
"Hey stranger," you greet him, opening the door and inviting him in.
"Hi," he breathes out, staring at you, "you're here early," he tries to casually mention.
You roll your eyes dramatically and say, "It's a downside of the job. Did you know people want coffee at the crack of dawn?"
You try acting as nonchalant as possible. It's not like you missed seeing one of your favorite customers, his beautiful blue eyes, or the way he rocks a simple white t-shirt.
"I had no idea," Carmy smiles, bringing his tattooed hand up to his lips, "I, uh, usually drink mine at night." That much is true. On those sleepless nights when insomnia takes over him, the best remedy is coffee.
"Would you make an exception and join me for a morning coffee at the crack ass of dawn?" Anxiously, you play with the rings on your fingers. It feels like you're asking the guy on a date when it's just a friendly coffee.
"As long as you have some business advice to spare?" Carmy responds shakily. He briefly looks down the street to glimpse at his restaurant. It's too early for anyone to be there yet.
"Deal."
Throwing the towel over your shoulder, you make your way behind the counter. Carmy attempts to make small talk with you as you prepare both drinks.
This is the first time he's watching you in action since you tend to stick to the cash register when he's around. It's not a coincidence. After the first time he came to Bee Hive, you wanted to see more of him, so you stationed yourself at the register where you'd be sure to see him, and he'd see you.
"Here you go." You place his coffee mug on the table along with yours before disappearing momentarily and returning with an orange soufflé coffee cake. You're pulling all the stops for Carmy to leave a good impression.
Carmy thanks you and sips his coffee, "Wow, this is fire!" He expected to taste an americano, but what you prepared was entirely different. He can make out hints of hazelnut and caramel in the coffee.
"Thanks. I took the liberty of changing your order. You can always come back to the americano, though…" you shrug shyly, looking at him over the rim of your mug.
"I-I appreciate it. Thanks." Carmy throws you a nervous grin. He gestures with his tattooed hand to dig into the cake you brought out. He shouldn't be the only one eating.
You and Carmy share the cake as you talk about yourselves and the crazy businesses you own. Somehow, talking to you comes easy to him. He's still nervous and scared to fuck things up, but the warm coffee and your even warmer smile ease him into it.
"How do you do it? This place is always packed, and you seem like you run a tight ship," Carmy wonders, playing with the fork. The cake is long gone, although the notes of orange remain on his tongue. Would you taste the same?
"It wasn't without mistakes. I had to learn a lot from my fuck ups and listen to my team because although I'm the owner, they are the ones doing most of the work. Whenever there's a flaw, they are the first to know," you speak softly, afraid of ruining the calm ambiance you've set up, twirling the small amount of coffee left in your mug.
It's your favorite part of morning coffee. When you have just the smallest bit of coffee left, and you know you'll never drink it because it's cold, but it gives you an excuse to remain where you are.
"So, all I gotta do is listen?" It's funny you say that because Carmy listens, but his friend's voices get muddled somewhere along the way. As much as he tries to focus on them, they merge together and form a cacophony in his head.
"A lot of listening and a lot of experimentation. I've been open for two years, and it's only been in the last six months that I can confidently tell you we found our groove," you admit with a grimace.
Bee Hive is your baby, but bringing it to life was everything but easy. You messed up so many times, costing you so much money. You didn't know shit about owning a business or building one from the ground up. Doing research and putting your pride aside to ask for help got you through it.
"I've only been doing this for, like, less than a fuckin' year, and I already want to pull my hair out," Carmy admits with a pitiful laugh.
"I'm sorry I can't tell you it gets better soon," you say apologetically, reaching for his hand that rests on the table.
Carmy freezes, glancing at your hand on top of his. He hasn't got a clue what to fucking do with the display of affection. Was it a display of affection? He doesn't fucking know. "It's, uh, it's, uh, it's alright. As-as long as you give me coffee, I think I can make it through," Carmen furrows his eyebrows as he stutters through the sentence.
"I can't wait to see what the award-winning chef does," you say, bringing your hand back to your lap, none the wiser to Carmy's internal struggle.
He should've done something to keep your hand on his. Place his other hand on yours or fucking turn his hand around to grasp it. He liked feeling your warm skin on his. It hasn't been a minute since you pulled away, and he's craving it already. It's ridiculous. Is he really that touch-starved that he's seeking affection from a near stranger?
He coughs and darts his eyes between the wooden table top and you, "Fuck. You-you know about that?"
"I might've done some research after finding out you're opening the restaurant. I got curious. I'm sorry." Apologizing is your default thing to do. Messing things up is your area of expertise. You really didn't think he'd mind you mentioning it.
"No, no, no, uh, you don't have to apologize. You just caught me off guard," Carmy shakes his head, reassuring both of you.
"Okay, good," you lightly smile at him, averting your eyes when your gazes meet.
If there's a time for you to make a move, it's now. Taking a shaky breath, you speak up, "I was wondering if you'd ever like to-."
A loud knock on the glass door interrupts you. You and Carmy jump and look towards the source of the noise. It's one of your regular clients, waving at you to open up. Looking at your watch, you see it's 6:30 already.
"Shit. I'm-I'm sorry I took so much of your time," Carmy apologizes, picking up his mug and the plate to put away.
You grab his wrist to make him stop in his tracks, "Relax. I enjoyed talking to you. Maybe we can do it again soon?"
Carmy nods wide-eyed. He likes the idea just as much as you do. You take away the mug and plate with a soft 'okay.' He then follows you to the door as you unlock it and turn the sign to 'open.'
"I, um, gotta go work on the menu. I'll probably be back later for another coffee?" Carmen asks you as if he's asking for permission, which you find adorable.
"I'll be behind the register," you say, watching him walk away. He turns his head back for a moment, and you catch the smile gracing his lips as yours turns to mimic him.
"Oh, he's cute," your customer, an older lady, says, watching him go along with you. "It's about time you got a boyfriend."
"Mrs. O'Hara, here for your tea?" You ask her, ignoring the comment about your love life. That woman will set you up with anyone. She does love her tea, though, and expects you to provide it on time.
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It's slow, but Carmen warms up to you. Instead of grabbing his coffee to go, he now drinks it at the café, coincidentally around the same time you take your break.
He's been hesitantly opening up. It's not like he's telling you about how fucked up his family is or how his brother committed suicide. More often, it's about the restaurant and his work as a chef, the struggles of getting every permit they need on a tight schedule since they are supposed to open in about four weeks now, or the occasional childhood memory. It's everything you need to know at this stage.
You love listening to Carmy talk, even if you have to coax it out of him sometimes. He's passionate about the restaurant despite all the stress that comes from it, and he adores the people he works with. He's shy but not in a dorky way because he's actually fascinating. Before meeting him, you never knew that collecting denim was a thing.
The smell of cigarettes that clings to him is also tightly laced with his character. When you step outside to get some sun and the scent of someone smoking hits you, your heart instantly speeds up, hoping it's him coming for his daily americano, or to come swoop you away into a sunset.
"-I fell on my ass in the middle of the street. I was freaking out, thinking I was gonna get run over by a car," you exclaim as you tell Carmy about the crazy Christmas you spent in New York last year.
"It's New York. You probably would have been run over," Carmy chuckles along with you. "There was this one time I was running late and-" His phone vibrating interrupts him.
"Sorry, it's just the fridge guy," he tells you with a furrow of his eyebrows. You notice he does that a lot when he's thinking deeply. Carmy silences it and looks back over to you.
"You should pick that up. A busted fridge is the last thing you need. Trust me. Been there, done that." You encourage him to take the call. The restaurant is more important than your story about how you bruised your coccyx in New York.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Carm! Call him back before you forget," you insist, grabbing his empty cup to trash it. You don't give him any other option, leaving him there to help your employees with a faulty machine.
He watches you closely, closer than ever before. He allows himself to watch how you frown at the machine and how your ringed fingers fumble with the knobs. His eyes keep trailing down involuntarily, and they take in how nicely your jeans hug your ass.
He goes into a spiral into these old pair of Levi jeans popular in the 90s and how they would fit nicely with the shape of your hips and legs. Carmy continues on the tangent, imagining himself peeling them off your body.
The phone vibrating in his hand snaps him out of it. Clearing his throat, he picks up the phone and walks outside. He waves at you through the window as he makes his way back to The Bear. Your frustration at the machine vanishes momentarily as you wave back, except the machine splatters, forcing you to redirect your attention. When you look outside again, he's gone.
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Stakes are high at The Bear. There's less than four weeks until Friends and Family, and there is much to do. Marcus has returned from Copenhagen and is working on the desserts. Tina is doing her job as the new sous chef. Fak and Sweeps are helping out wherever they can. And Richie is being Richie, trying to be open but resisting change.
"I need coffee or a pop. Anything with caffeine," Sydney says, throwing her head back. She and Carmen have been working on the chaos menu for hours, and she keeps messing up. Carmy insists that it's okay that they'll adjust and get it right soon, but she's beginning to lose hope.
"Me too. I'd kill for an espresso," Natalie agrees, softly rubbing her hand over her growing bump.
"I thought you couldn't have caffeine cause of the baby," Richie mentions, remembering Tiff's time while pregnant.
"I don't need you to fuckin' tell me what I can or can't eat, Richie," Natalie yells, glaring at him. Although he's right, the doctor told her to limit her caffeine intake. Hard to do when she's up all night thinking about everything she needs to do for The Bear.
"Shit. I'm sorry for fucking caring," Richie screams back, lifting his hands up in defense.
"I can go to the coffee place down the block. Get everyone something," Carmy pipes up, looking forward to seeing you today.
Natalie is quick to shoot that idea down, "You can't. The fridge guy is coming in 20 minutes."
"Fuck, that's right," Carmy groans, digging his head in his hands. His fingers rake through his hair, messing up his curls. He wanted to see you and talk to you, even if it was for five short minutes.
"I'll go," Sydney sighs. She needs to leave the kitchen for more than five minutes, or she'll go crazy, "Just tell me what you guys want to order."
Natalie grumbles about getting decaf, Richie orders a plain black coffee, and Carmy asks for his americano. As Sydney leaves to ask Marcus, Carmy yells after her, "Please, go to Bee Hive. If you get Starbucks, I'm gonna fucking lose it."
Richie and Natalie exchange a look. Richie because he's confused, and Natalie because she knows something is happening with Carmy. He's never been picky over coffee. In fact, they have an old coffee machine in the office that now goes unused because he's always at that coffee shop.
"Sorry, I didn't get the fuckin' memo. Since when is Starbucks bad?" Richie frowns, looking to get a rise out of Carmy.
"I don't think it's about the coffee, cousin," Natalie responds, directing her gaze towards her brother, who is hunched over the counters, chopping vegetables.
"If it's not about the coffee, what is it about?" Richie questions, crossing his arms.
"Shut the fuck up, Sugar," Carmy grumbles, looking at his sister with a glare. He already knows where she's going. She tried to bring it up a couple of days ago after she walked by the coffee shop and saw him being friendly with you.
Natalie smiles and responds, "Carmy has a crush on the barista."
"That's ridiculous. I don't have a crush on her." Carmy shakes his head, avoiding Richie and Natalie's eyes on him. They always do this. They gang up on him if he shows even the slightest interest in a girl. They think they can help, but all they do is embarrass him.
"Come on, Bear. Why else would you go almost every day to get coffee?" Natalie asks, giving him a look.
"Because it's good fuckin' coffee. Jesus, it's not that deep." Carmy grabs the veggies he chopped and drops them into a container to use later.
"It's okay to admit you like a pretty girl, cousin! I'm excited for you! Makes you human and not a lonely hermit," Richie jokes, pushing on Carmy's buttons. "When was the last time you got laid?"
"I swear to God, Richie. Shut the fuck up," Carmy points at him angrily.
"No, I should go with Sydney and see who this girl is!" Richie says, walking out of the half-built kitchen.
Carmy follows him instantly, "You're not going fuckin' anywhere, fuckin' jagoff." He's turning red from anger, seeing Richie with his mocking smile. Natalie follows behind them, amused at the situation. It reminds her of the banters they used to get in with Mickey.
"Admit that you like her," Richie shrugs, giving him a choice.
"No, I won't," Carmy refuses. "You always do this shit."
"Then, I'm going," Richie nods, stepping towards the door.
"Fuck! Shit, alright. I like her, okay? Don't fucking go anywhere," Carmy yells, rubbing a hand on his face out of frustration. It's like he's not allowed to keep anything good to himself.
"Was that so hard?" Richie grins, clapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder.
"Don't fuckin' touch me," Carmy grumbles, walking back to the kitchen. Natalie follows him with a smile, shaking her head at Richie.
Carmy sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He has yet to admit that he likes you more than he should. He's been avoiding it, afraid of what it might lead to, or rather, what it might not.
He couldn't let Richie go see you. He has a big fuckin' mouth and will tell you Carmy has a crush on you whether it's true or not. Just like that, he feels the sour taste in his mouth, his heartburn making an appearance. Carmy should go look for his pepto before it gets worse.
Unaware of the argument back at The Bear, Sydney walks to Bee Hive. She's walked past many times but has yet to have the time to stop and try it out.
As she waits in line, she reads over the drinks menu. It's clear that it's been carefully curated. Starbucks has nothing on this menu. She can see why Carmy would prefer to come here instead.
When it's her turn to order, Sydney takes out her phone to recite everyone's drink order. She also points to a few pastries, thinking Marcus would like to try some of them and get inspiration. That and she knows Natalie will enjoy them as well.
You're sitting at a table close to the pickup counter. You often find yourself all over the store, ensuring everything goes smoothly. Sometimes, you stop to talk to your regulars and see how they're doing.
You notice Sydney struggling with all the cups she has to carry. It's proving difficult despite the to-go trays your barista put them in. Deciding to approach her, you ask, "Do you need help?"
"Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks," Sydney responds with a nervous smile. She's trying hard to grab everything, including the box with the pastries.
You continue watching her struggle because you know she needs help. You let her try and figure it out for one more minute before stepping in again when she almost drops two of the drinks, "Need some help now?"
"Yeah," Sydney sighs, "I guess I can leave one of the trays here, go to the restaurant, and come back for the rest," she speaks mostly to herself.
"Are you going far?"
"No, just the restaurant down the block," Sydney responds with a sigh, scratching her eyebrow as she tries to figure out the logistics of carrying the drinks. She could get a box to put everything in.
You perk up at her response. The only restaurant down the block is Carmen's. Could she work there? "Carmy's restaurant?"
"You know Carmy?" Sydney asks, tilting her head. Maybe Nat was right. Carmy spends his time here because of the woman in front of her.
"He comes here often. Anyway, I can go with you to help you out. It's not far, and I'd feel bad if your drinks got cold." You offer to help her out because you're a nice person. Not because you want a chance to see the curly-haired man you are developing feelings for.
"You really don't have to…"
"It's really not a problem," you press, grabbing one of the to-go trays and motioning for her to lead the way.
Sydney sighs in defeat and nods, "Thanks. I'm Sydney, by the way."
"I'm Honey," you smile, following her outside.
You chat all the way to the restaurant with Sydney. She reminds you of Carmy in some ways, so you can see why they are friends. Before arriving at the restaurant, Sydney apologizes in advance for any sort of mess there might be, including yelling.
As you near the building under renovation, your palms start to sweat. Maybe you shouldn't have come. You're showing up unannounced, and he's probably too busy to talk to you anyway. You can slip in and out without him noticing. That's the goal now.
You open the door for Sydney, letting her go through first, and quietly follow her into the restaurant. There's no time to escape, as all eyes are instantly on you.
Richie is arguing with Fak when he sees you walk in. He narrows his eyes as Carmy looks in your direction from the kitchen. With just one glance to Carmy's face, he knows who you're supposed to be.
"Guess I didn't have to go anywhere. She came to me," Richie whispers, rushing out the door.
"Shut the fuck up. Where are you going? Don't embarrass me!" Carmy whispers out to Richie unsuccessfully.
"Oh, you'll do that all by yourself," Richie throws over his shoulder.
"Honey, hey, what-what're you doing here?" Carmy speaks, not giving Richie a chance to open his big mouth. He stands between you and Richie, blocking him for the time being.
"Sydney needed help with the drinks," you answer nervously, averting your eyes.
"Oh, thanks for that. You didn't have to," Carmy approaches you and takes the drinks from your hands. His fingers brush with yours momentarily, causing you both to blush.
"I did, or else you probably wouldn't have anything to drink," you whisper to him.
Sydney, Fak, and Richie all watch the interaction amusedly. Richie has a big teasing grin on his face as he makes a plan in his head.
"Hi, I'm Richie! Carmy's cousin," he introduces himself, shoving Carmy to the side and shaking your hand enthusiastically. "I gotta say Carmen right here is obsessed with your coffee. He's banned us from getting Starbucks."
Carmy curses under his breath as Richie does precisely what he tells him not to. He has the urge to throw the coffee at him and run away.
"Is that right?" You ask, amused, looking over at Carmy with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh yeah," Richie answers for him as Carmy tries to find the right words to say. "Cousin, why don't you give the nice lady a tour of the place?"
"It's not done yet. Could be dangerous," Carmy hopelessly says with a gulp.
"Nonsense! You'll take care of her!" Richie insists. He takes the coffee from Carmy's hands and pushes him in your direction. "Go give her a tour."
Richie, Sydney, and Fak all disappear to the office to stay out of the way and try to snoop simultaneously. Fak sends Carmy a not-so-discreet thumbs-up that makes you giggle.
He's internally screaming at his so-called friends but is glad to see you. It was all he wanted before Sydney left to get their drinks. It's strange having you here at The Bear, though. He's so used to seeing you in your own space back at Bee Hive.
Trying to make things better, you say, "Sorry you've been roped into this. You probably have better things to do. I can go-"
Carmy doesn't let you finish. "No, stay. I want to show you around."
"Let's see what you got then, Berzatto," you grin, following him to the kitchen.
Carmy takes his time showing you The Bear. He wants you to stay. He wants to spend time with you but doesn't really know how to say it. So he takes it slow, answers your questions about the restaurant, shows you the front and how everything will be laid out, and introduces you to the ones around, including the fridge guy working on the handle.
Sadly, you get a call from Bee Hive asking you to come back. Carmy walks you outside, dreading having to say goodbye.
"I'm really excited for The Bear to open. You have a great place and team," you tell Carmy.
"I really got lucky with them, huh?" He asks, playing with a dish towel.
"I gotta go. I'll see you later, Berzatto." You don't know where you got the guts to lean towards him and kiss his cheek.
Carmy stays still as his face heats up. You start walking away and throw him a smile over your shoulder. When you're a distance away, he touches the cheek you kissed. Back inside, Richie runs over to Sugar to tell her what he just witnessed.
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It's late when Carmy leaves The Bear. As he walks to the train station, he has his hands stuffed in his jacket pocket. On his way, he sees a lone light turned on in your café. Crossing the street to check it out, he sees you're still there with glasses perched on your nose in front of the computer.
He tries the door, and to his luck, it's open. You look in his direction, startled, but relax once you see it's him.
"Nice glasses," Carmy teases, pulling out a chair to sit.
"Are you making fun of me?" You purse your lips, propping your chin on your palm.
"No, I…I think you look cute with them," Carmy admits. After a stern talk from Sugar and Richie, he's realized he should probably make a proper move on you because if what they say is true, you also have a crush on him.
"Thanks," you blush, the light from your screen making it obvious to Carmy, who can't stop the corners of his lips from turning up into a smile.
"Late night?"
"One of my baristas is moving out of state. I have to find someone new, preferably who has experience," you say with a sigh. Glancing at him, you add, "Are you perhaps interested in the position?"
"Poaching me from my own restaurant, nice. I'll let you know I'm an excellent worker," Carmy jokes, tapping his fingers on the table.
There's no doubt in your mind he's an excellent worker. He has to be if he's considered one of the best up-and-coming chefs. Or to work in one of the best restaurants in the world with three Michelin stars.
"I don't know. I'll need references," you speak as if not believing him.
Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."
There's a moment of silence between the two of you that Carmy is quick to fill, "So, uh, have you had dinner yet by chance?" This is it.
You shake your head no and look at him with hopeful eyes.
"Wanna go grab pizza? I know a place," he asks, finding your gaze on him.
"Say no more," you say, closing your laptop and taking off your glasses. "I'm starving."
Carmy waits for you to lock Bee Hive and grab your things. Then, you both walk to the pizza place. To pass the time, you and Carmy talk about your days and anything that comes to mind. Nothing serious as you get to know each other.
Waiting in line to order the pizza, you tell him all about your nickname and how you were donned 'Honey' to everyone who knows you. In return, he tells you about his nickname 'Bear' and why his restaurant is named as such. For the first time, he dares mention Mickey.
"Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy says, taking a slice of the pie and placing it on your plate.
"I'll see about that," you murmur. You wait until he has a slice of his own and dig in simultaneously.
"It's good, but this is not the best pizza place in Chicago," you say after chewing the first bite, "I'm gonna get your chef license revoked."
"Are you? With what proof? Have you tried all the pizza places to know?"
"I don't have to because I've tried the best," you hum, taking another bite. The cheese stretches as you pull it away.
"Oh yeah? Which one?" Carmy questions you, taking a drink of his beer.
"Mine. The pizza I make is the best," you shrug modestly.
"Wait. You cook?" Carmy asks, giving you a look of surprise.
Cooking is a universal thing. Most people know how to cook up to a degree, yet only some are as confident in their skills as you are. You know you're definitely not up to Carmy's level, but if there is something you know how to do properly, it's pizza.
"Yeah! You're not the only good cook here, Berzatto," you sass back at him, dipping the pizza crust in the marinara sauce.
"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.
"You're forgiven," you chirp.
"When will I try this famous pizza of yours then?" Carmy wonders. An attempt to see if you'd like to see more of him.
"I promise I'll make it for you once you open The Bear. You're too stressed to fully enjoy it now," you respond. You were reaching out. Throwing hints that you want this to continue in the foreseeable future.
The conversation continues to flow with an empty pizza box in front of you. Customers come and go until it's only the two of you and a drunk customer picking up his pizza.
"Tell me about your tattoos. Were they an act of rebellion or something else?"
It's an excuse to touch his hands. You reach for them, turning them to see the black ink on his hands and fingers. You gently trace over them with the pads of your fingers. Over the hand that's stabbed, the letters S.O.U. on his knuckles and the forget-me-nots. The one you're dying to touch, though, is the one on his bicep; you'd give anything to feel the hard muscle underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white t-shirt.
"Uh, my first tattoo is the 773. Got it when I left Chicago for the first time. After that, I sort of became addicted to them. I found they helped my anxiety when it was becoming too much. The pain distracted me and made me feel stronger than I actually was," he says, letting you touch him. He finds that he likes it. Your touch is soft and warm. Comforting.
"So what you're trying to say is you're a masochist," you say, bouncing your eyebrows at him. Your touch goes further up his arm to turn it and look at the fish tattoo on his forearm.
"I guess so," Carmy responds with a breathy laugh, "Do you have any tattoos?"
"Maybe…" You shrug as the pads of your fingers trail back down to his palm until you pull them back towards you. Carmy instantly misses the feeling, opting to cross his arms to retain the warmth you left behind.
"It's bad, isn't it?" He says knowingly. Your reaction told him everything he needed to know.
"The worst," you grimace, shaking your head at the memory of you getting it.
"So, rebellion or something else?"
"Rebellion. For all the wrong reasons," you groan, burying your face in your hands, "Growing up, everyone saw me as a good girl because that's what I was. Breaking the rules terrified me. So, as a teenager, I didn't want to be seen as a goody two shoes, so the summer before I went to college, I decided that getting a tattoo would make me a badass."
"Did it work?"
"God, no. I only got the outline done 'cause it hurt like a bitch. Then I went crying to my parents, fully having a meltdown, apologizing for disappointing them," You scrunch your nose as you say the following words, "They laughed in my face, called me a wimp, and told me to suck it up."
Carmy fully laughs at your story. Head thrown back, eyes closing, "What did you get?"
"That's a secret, Berzatto," you purse your lips, avoiding responding. You just know he'll make fun of you for it.
Everyone who has seen your tattoo has made fun of you for it, yourself included. It's so silly and not badass. Carmy will have to wait to see your tattoo, and you hope this continues so he can see it up close.
"Really? That bad?" Carmy stares wide-eyed.
"It's terrible," you nod, leaning on the table. "We should probably get going before the waitress throws a fit."
Carmy looks over his shoulder to see the waitress glaring at them. It's five minutes till close, and they've made no move to go. He turns back to you and nods towards the door. Carmy helps you with your jacket and leaves a tip on the jar for the waitress. At that, she happily calls after them with a 'Good night!'
"Do you live far?" Carmy asks, seeing how dark it is now that most places have closed. There are too many lamp posts that aren't working. He'd feel better if he could walk you home or you called an Uber. Preferably the former.
"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"
"It's late. Let me walk you home," Carmy says decidedly, not giving you much of a choice.
"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.
The pace you set is slow. You don't want your time with Carmy to end just yet. He's such an interesting and sweet guy. He's a little awkward, but it adds to his charm, and you can see he's trying.
Somewhere along the way, his hand brushes against yours briefly. Then, it happens again, and you decide to bite the bullet. You grasp his hand in yours.
"Is this okay?" You ask when he falls silent.
Carmy doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He can't even remember the last time he held a girl's hand. All he knows is he doesn't remember ever feeling this good. "Yes, uh, this is okay."
Carmy walks you up to your front door when you reach your house. You unlock the door but stay outside face-to-face with Carmy.
"Thanks for the pizza," you say, fiddling with your fingers. You were about to make one more move for the night. Because as long as Carmy allows you, you'll keep pushing for more.
"Sorry, it wasn't the best," he retorts, rubbing his jaw with his hand. You notice he does that a lot when nervous.
"Your company made up for it," you reassure him, "g'night Carmy." You kiss his cheek goodbye, watching as his cheeks blush.
"Night," he whispers.
As you turn to leave, Carmy stops you by grabbing your wrist, "Wait-uh, can I? Uh-shit. Fuck it." For a second, Carmy shuts out the excessive thoughts in his head and does what he's been dying to do for weeks.
Carmy cups your jaw and kisses you. It's soft and slow. He gives you enough leeway to pull away if it's something you don't want, but you reciprocate eagerly. You've been waiting for this all night.
As confidence surges through his body, Carmy throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around him, one of your hands resting on his neck, tangling on his curls. The tug of your fingers feels like heaven.
The kiss turns needy and desperate, your lips moving perfectly in sync. His tongue brushes over your lip; Carmy has been dying to test a theory. Are you as sweet as your name?
He's rewarded by a little noise in the back of your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's endearing, and he finds a way to make you do it again. With heads tilting to deepen the kiss, he concludes he was right. You're pure honey. Sweet and addicting.
When Carmy returns to his apartment, he gets the urge to create, to cook. He wants to bring your taste to life with his cooking. Something with honey.
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"I was wondering if you'd want to come to the restaurant for Family and Friends."
You and Carmy are in your little office at Bee Hive. He stands between your legs as you sit on the desk. His lips are slightly red and swollen, and the hair at the nape of his neck is messier than usual.
"Hm, I could be persuaded," you pretend to think as you play with the golden chain around his neck, pulling him towards you.
"Yeah?" Carmy laughs, leaning to brush his lips against yours. When he feels you nod, he closes the small gap between the two of you.
His hands hold your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. He tastes like coffee, which is to be expected from the discarded cup beside you. It's funny how your relationship, if it could be called that, has moved all around Bee Hive from the register to the front and now to your office.
You're at a weird spot where you're not exactly friends because friends don't kiss, but you're not a couple either. It's a situationship for sure. You're content with what you have now, although you'd also love it if Carmy were to ask you to be more. You pin it on him being shy. He'll get around to it.
"What do you say?" Carmy questions as he kisses a trail from your cheek to your jaw.
"Consider me in," you giggle when he kisses a tickly spot.
Carmy brushes a strand of hair out of your face, remaining close to you. This is what he needs. After months of stress and anxiety of having to deal with The Beef, now The Bear, he needed you and your calming presence. Someone removed from the chaos, a safe haven.
He's quiet as his thoughts consume him, and you take the intimate position to fix his gold chain. Turning it so the clasp faces the back instead of the front. "I'm excited, Carmy," you say with a smile, brushing his cheek with your thumb.
"You can bring someone with you," Carmy offers nervously because he realizes he probably won't have the time to spend much time with you. "I-I don't think I'll be around much. I'm sorry. I'd understand if that makes you change your mind," Carmy drops his head as he braces himself for disappointment.
As the weeks pass, you learn more about Carmy and his insecurities. It doesn't deter you from wanting to be with him. Everyone has their issues. "Berzatto, stop. Look at me," you softly divert his attention, "I'd love to go and support you even if it's from the sidelines."
"You sure?" He asks once more.
If reassurance is what he needs, that's what you'll give. "Don't worry about me. This is your moment, Carmy. Enjoy it. I'll be around afterward."
"Thank you for understanding," Carmy responds, stealing one more kiss from you.
When he returns to The Bear, he helps Sydney prep the dishes they finally chose to serve. He notes how everything is laid out and anything they should fix before opening.
Richie struts into the kitchen with a suit on. Apparently, it's his thing now. Carmy figures staging at Chef Terry's restaurant had a good impact on him. All Carmy wanted was to show Richie he had what it takes. That he's not a fuck up.
"Glad to see things are going well with Honey," Richie thunders.
"What are you talking about?" Carmy says in a rush as he plates the lamb expertly.
"That thing on your neck," Richie says, motioning to his own neck. He has a smug look on his face.
"I don't have time for this, cousin," Carmy grumbles, wiping the plate where the sauce might've splattered.
Groaning, Richie grabs one of the new pans and holds it in front of Carmy. "I don't see anything," he frowns, looking at Richie for an explanation.
"Right here," Richie points towards the edge of his t-shirt around his neck.
Carmy pulls it back and finally spots what Richie has been referring to. There is a fading purple bruise on his skin, a hickey. You must've done it when he was back in your office. He'd been too busy touching you to notice.
Sydney, silently watching, pipes up, "No wonder he hasn't been as on edge lately." Carmy shoots her a glare, which causes her to shrug and laugh with a, "What? It's true."
"Ay, yo, Sugar, get in here!" Richie yells down the hall to the office.
"What is it?" Natalie barges in, afraid something went to shit.
Carmy ignores Richie as he babbles to Natalie what he found. His face is red, though, as Sydney nudges his side.
"That's enough about me. We have shit to do," Carmy shouts in his chef's voice.
Everyone in the kitchen, including Richie and Natalie, repeats, "Yes, chef!"
Walking out of the kitchen Richie, 'whispers' to Natalie, "I've always wondered if he likes to be called chef in bed."
"Fuck off, Richie," Natalie glares, but then it falls, and it's replaced with a teasing grin, "He definitely does."
"I heard that! Don't you two have better things to do?" Carmy screams at them.
"Yes, chef!"
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Carmy keeps hearing Cicero's 'Uh-oh' throughout the whole day. He understands Cicero, he really does, but to call you a distraction?
His work with The Bear is only starting. They managed to make it to Friends and Family. Now, they have to keep up their best work to fill up the restaurant daily and have a waiting list. His work is far from done. He should listen to Cicero.
Cicero said it with the best of intentions. He doesn't want the Berzatto siblings to fail. He wants to believe they'll succeed and, most importantly, get him his money.
If there is something Cicero has learned throughout the years, it is that girls are distractions. They mean well, but oftentimes, they keep your eyes off the ball. Especially when it's a new relationship like Carmy's. Ultimately, it's up to Carmy to decide what he wants to do. Cicero has played his part by giving him his advice.
One last delivery is made to the restaurant an hour before opening. Richie is the one to receive it and place it in front of Carmy. "She's a keeper, Cousin," he says with a pointed look and a nod. He also wants the best for Carmy, and yet it doesn't align with Cicero.
You knew Carmy would be too stressed and all over the place to eat or drink, so you sent everyone at The Bear a drink and a pastry. One of the cups has Carmen's name with a little heart and 'good luck' written on it.
"Yeah, she is," Carmy sighs, turning the cup in his hands to look at the message. His thumb brushes over your handwriting longingly. Is listening to Cicero the wise thing to do? He's one of the most successful men he knows in his family.
When it's 10 minutes till open, Carmy changes into his uniform and looks in the mirror. His heart is racing, begging for Friends and Family not to be a complete failure. Walking out of the bathroom, Carmy is a man on a mission.
It starts relatively well, but like everything in Carmy's life, the kitchen starts welcoming in the chaos.
They are too slow getting the orders out, which causes Sydney to start doubting herself and asking Carmy to step in. He reassures her she's doing good. They just have to keep up the pace.
Then, one of the new chefs disappears mid-rush. Forcing Tina to work two stations and Marcus to step out of his to help Sydney. Carmy ignores some weird tension between them as he works on ensuring the dishes are good to go.
Next thing he knows, Sugar is rushing into the kitchen, yelling at him about forks. It's wasted time, as he can't do anything about it. A shrill reverberates inside his head as he looks at the ticking clock. It's enough to give him a headache.
With no one to take a dish to its table, Carmy takes it upon himself to do it. There's no time to re-fire or wait for someone. He places it on their table and pours the tea into their cups before retreating with an 'enjoy.'
He looks at his restaurant, and suddenly, the ringing in his head gets louder. Sitting in a booth is his old boss, staring back at him like he did back in New York. Like he was waiting for Carmy to fail.
His voice echoes in Carmy's head. Why are you so fuckin' slow. Hurry up. Go faster motherfucker. Talentless piece of shit.
Right before Carmy spirals, it all goes away. His focus shifts entirely as he sees you taking your seat for the night. The one he chose because he'd be able to see you from the kitchen. You have successfully blocked the mirage he'd conjured up.
You're there with your brother as Richie talks you up, thanking you for coming. As if sensing him, your eyes lock with Carmys. Shyly, you send him a wave, which he returns, thanking you in his head for getting there at the perfect time.
Carmy ducks back to the kitchen with newfound energy. Richie enters shortly after him.
"Chef, your girl is here."
"Thanks, Chef, um, do you have the notepad?" Carmy asks as he continues cleaning dishes and making sure each one is up to par.
"Here you go."
Taking the notepad from Richie, he begins scribbling. I love- No, too fuckin' soon. Thank you for- Nope, it's too stale.
I'm happy you're here, Honey. Wait for me after you're done? -Bear
"Here," Carmy hands it to him without even looking at Richie.
"Keep up the good work, Chefs," Richie yells out to the room before disappearing to the front of the house. The door swinging shut behind him.
"Yes, Chef!"
Something isn't working in the kitchen. They're too backed up, and no matter how hard they try, they're always a tad too slow. Through Sydney surrounding the wheel to Richie, Carmy steals glances out the kitchen window. You're smiling at whatever your brother says, your lips sipping the wine he chose. Carmy can get through this night because, in the end, you'll be waiting for him.
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"There he is," you sing as you spot Carmy walking out of the kitchen. The chef's whites back in his locker as he sports his white t-shirt, jeans, and jacket.
Fak, who kept you company while Carmy finished up, speaks up next, "My brother, I'm gonna grab a sandwich and head home. Honey, it was a pleasure meeting you."
"You too, Neil!"
"Thanks for everything," Carmy tells him, giving him a hug and a pat like dudes do.
Carmy turns and grabs your hand to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "What did you think?"
"It was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," you tell him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
There's a reason Carmy has had so many accolades despite his young age. He has a gift in the kitchen. The moment his food touched your taste buds, your life changed. He and Sydney outdid themselves, and the way everything flowed showed how much work they put into the restaurant.
"You're exaggerating," Carmy modestly says, his arms wrapping around your waist.
"I'm really not," you shake your head, pursing your lips. Carmy can't resist placing a small peck on your red-painted lips.
"What about your famous pizza?"
"No, it might be the best pizza in Chicago, but whatever I ate today topped it," you smile at him, scrunching your nose. "Consider your chef's license reinstated,"
"Thanks," Carmy laughs breathily, "Do you mind if we walk? I feel some of the rush still."
"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."
Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the streets of Chicago. It's silent momentarily as the wind cools Carmy's heated face. He places his hand along with yours into his pocket.
"Did your brother like it?" He asks, breaking the ice.
"Oh yeah. I'm officially like the best sister ever," you respond, squeezing his hand.
You had accidentally forgotten that your brother had passed the Bar exam. So, you didn't have time to get him anything in celebration. You figured dinner at a lovely new restaurant would help while you got him a proper present.
"How did you feel throughout, though? It looked intense." You often found yourself looking through the small glass window into the kitchen. They were always on the move, looking for the next thing to do.
"It didn't just look like it. I'm used to it, though," Carmy admits with a sniff. Everyone's best and worst habits shone through for those couple of hours. It's an environment he's all too familiar with, in and out of the kitchen.
"That rough," you grimace.
"It's fine. We have a lot to work on, but it's a start, and it wasn't entirely terrible," Carmy says, thinking back on tonight. Before coming out to meet you, he wrote down a couple of things to go through with Sugar and Sydney.
"Good, 'cause I hope The Bear sticks around the block," you say, bumping your shoulder with his.
You invite Carmy into your house when you arrive. He takes up your offer, holding your hand to help you balance as you take your heels off. It reminds Carmy he forgot to mention how beautiful you looked today.
He follows you to the kitchen, watching your hips sway and your dress skirt swishing. Padding to the wine fridge, you pick out a bottle of red to celebrate.
Carmy indulges in looking at your legs as you stretch up to reach for the glasses of wine up in your cabinets. His blue eyes darken as your dress hikes up, exposing your pretty thighs.
His gaze darts back up at you when you turn around to place the glasses on the kitchen counter. You hand him the wine opener so he can do the honors because you suck at taking the cork out. It's why you mainly stick to cheaper wines with twist-off caps.
"Here is to The Bear and its amazing owner," you say, lifting your glass in front of you.
"Here's to not fuckin' it up entirely," Carmy follows, making you giggle. Your wine glasses clink, and you take a drink.
Placing the glass back down, Carmy pins you against the counter, his strong hands resting on the edge of it. You look at him through your lashes, a hand coming up to his chest to feel the steady thumping of his heart.
"You look beautiful. I like the dress," Carmy murmurs. It's better late than never.
The dress you wear is a pretty shade of light blue. Simple yet dressy. The neckline gives him a good view of your cleavage and has long sleeves to compensate for the shorter length. They currently cover the goosebumps lining your skin.
"Yeah? I picked it out thinking you might," you reveal, biting your lip. The shade reminded you of his eyes.
"You were right," he whispers, cupping your jaw. As pretty as the dress is, he's sure it'll look so much better on the floor.
Carmy closes his eyes as he leans down to kiss you. He's always struggled with words, so he hopes it's enough for you to catch what he's trying to say.
You smile into the kiss, blindly leaving your glass to the side to be able to touch him. Your palm presses against his chest and taut abdomen. He hides a nice amount of muscle under his t-shirts, a pleasant surprise.
Carmy easily lifts you up to sit down on the kitchen island. He steps between your legs, never breaking the heated kiss. The hands on your waist trail down to your thighs and under your dress. Carmy's tattooed hands squeeze your ass and thighs, earning him a moan from you.
This is the farthest you've ever gotten, and you're more than ready to have all of him. Carmy knows this, which leads to his thoughts getting out of control.
He has to make a decision now. Does he allow himself to be with you, or does he remain by himself like always? Richie's, Sugar's, Cicero's, and Sydney's voices all shout at him different things. Some are in favor, and others are in opposition. 'Uh oh.'
He can't lead you on and sleep with you if he will back out tomorrow. The voices become deafening in an instant, ripping him away from your embrace. His emotions bubbled over and spilled all over the place.
"Wait, stop, I just-" Carmy breathes heavily, taking a couple of steps back from you. Carmy's hand comes up to his forehead as he attempts to organize his thoughts.
"What's wrong?" You ask worriedly. Did you do something wrong?
Carmen's thoughts spill out his mouth without making much sense as he paces in your kitchen. "I can't stop thinking about it and owe it to my team..."
"Carm?" You slide off the kitchen counter, approaching him slowly.
"-keeps saying it's a distraction," he rambles mostly to himself. His heart is pounding painfully in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was having a heart attack.
"Hey, hey, hey. What's a distraction?" Softly, you grab onto his arms, stopping him in his tracks, trying to find his lost gaze.
"You. Whatever this is," Carmy breathes, finally meeting your eyes, which he instantly regrets as your eyes turn sad.
The watering of your eyes is unintentional, as is the knot forming in your throat. "You think I'm distracting you?" You question barely above a whisper.
His response is instant, "Fuck, no, the opposite. W-When I'm with you or-or think about you, things get clearer, and it's-it's when I feel the most focused." Carmy holds your shoulders, comforting you because he never meant to hurt you. He can't stand the sad look in your eyes.
Slowly, you begin to piece together his rambling and conclude that other people have been telling him you're a distraction. You wonder if they don't want him to be happy. The Bear is the center of Carmy's life, and before that, it was the restaurant in New York. He deserves more than this crazy job.
"Then fuck what others tell you, Carmen. You deserve to have a life outside The Bear." Maybe you're selfish because you don't want to lose him, but you hope he believes your words.
"I-I don't. I don't deserve all your attention or your affection. I'm nothing special. I don't deserve you." Carmy says, shaking his head with furrowed brows.
Weeks ago, he had no source of enjoyment. He said it himself at the support group. Now, he has you, yet he can't bear the thought of you wanting to be with him. He feels like he's tricking you into a bad deal. That's what he is, though, isn't he? An overachieving fuck up with tons upon tons of baggage.
Carmen Berzatto is an anxious person with too many problems in his life. He has a fucked up family. His mother is a mentally unstable alcoholic. His brother was addicted to painkillers and decided that shooting himself on a bridge was better than living this life. That's without mentioning all the trauma he has from his job and the terrible people he's worked with.
What good does he have to offer you?
"Yes, you do," you reassure him, placing your hands on his cheeks. The cool metal of your rings soothes him somewhat, grounding him. "You deserve all that and more, Carmy. You're so sweet and kind and hard-working. You've been through shit. You deserve something good in life. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's not, but don't close yourself off."
You're begging at this point. Whatever this relationship is, it's just starting. He's not giving himself a chance. You like Carmy so damn much. He's funny without knowing it and thoughtful, too. There are so many qualities he doesn't realize he has.
His eyes watch you as tears line them. He's silently pleading for you to convince him. To get him out of his own head and forget the expectations others have on him.
"I'm not going to force you into anything, Carm. It's your call, but I've enjoyed our last couple of months together. I know we don't know each other completely, but I want to know everything about you. I have feelings for you, so whatever you decide, I'll support it."
Being honest is all you can do at this point. You pour your heart out and hope Carmy chooses you.
You and Carmy stand in the middle of your kitchen. Face to face, reaching out towards each other. It's clear as day that you want the same thing. It's only a matter of taking the right steps now.
"I can't let you go," Carmy responds, grabbing the hand on his cheek. His thumb brushes over the back of it.
"Then don't."
Carmy's decision is made. Without another thought, he smashes his lips against yours. He grabs the back of your neck, tilting your head to meet his heated kiss.
It's more intense now that the cards are on the table. Nothing to hold him back.
Tongues clash together as your bodies seek each other out. The temperature rises when Carmy lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands are on the back of your thighs, holding tight onto you.
"Bedroom?" He asks, breaking the kiss, a trail of saliva between the two of you.
"Down the hallway," you breathe heavily, kissing down his neck.
Carmy makes it to the bedroom, opening the door with a bang. He spots your bed, placing you in the middle with him holding himself up on top of you.
He watches as your back meets the bed and your fair fans around you like a halo. The curvature of your breasts accentuated even more from the position.
Carmy hikes your leg further up his hips as he dips down to kiss a wet trail down to the neckline of your dress. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on the rounded flesh, nipping at the skin playfully when you arch your back to push more into him.
"Carmy," you breathe, cupping his jaw to pull him back to your lips. Grinding your hips, you manage to graze against his bulge.
"Shit," Carmy shakily curses, thrusting his hips to meet your touch once more.
Curiously, your hands wander across his body. Carmy's moans in your ear make your panties wetter than they already are.
You grasp the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off. You're desperate to have him, your cunt aches for him. Your nails scratch down his firm stomach when he bites into your earlobe, softly calling your name.
"Unzip me," you pant, pushing him away and pulling your hair off to the side.
Carmy grabs the small zipper, pushing it down and exposing your pretty skin. As he slides the fabric off of you, he kisses your shoulders and back, taking note of the goosebumps on your skin.
His mind is in the present, and nothing can take it away from him. It's like a switch he managed to turn off in his brain. No more family drama, no more The Bear. It's just you...and him. Honey and Bear.
You stretch your neck to the side, giving Carmy more space to pepper kisses across the delicate skin. The dress pooling at your feet exposes your chest, and Carmy's hands come up from behind you. His fingers shyly brush up your stomach, tickling you, until they find your breasts.
He draws a moan from you as he squeezes them in his palms, pushing you back to meet his chest; turning your head to the side, you find his lips.
The kiss breaks when he slides one of his hands into your underwear, dipping his finger to feel your wetness. Your arm reaches back to dig your fist in his curls.
"You're soaked, Honey," he moans, finding your clit to tease it.
"Been waiting for so long, Carmy," you whine as your hips stutter along with the flicks of his wrist.
"I'm sorry. I'm here now," he purrs into your ear.
Carmy can hear the distinct 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of his fingers against your clit. It spurs him on as he slips a finger into you. He can't wait to have his cock inside of you, snug and warm.
"Oh my god, Carmen," you gasp when he prods another finger into your entrance. Hanging onto his arm across your chest, you roll your hips against his fingers.
"I got you," he says, digging his fingers deeper into you and curling them.
Your knees buckle as the tips of his fingers curl and hit your g spot repeatedly. If it weren't for him, you'd be on the floor. With your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure, you stutter out, "I'm gonna cum."
Carmy's hand is wet from your juices as he ups the ante. Just as your walls begin to squeeze around his fingers, he pulls them out to circle around your clit.
"Oh, f-fuck!" You squeal, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.
The way your clit softly twitches under the pads of his fingers fucks with Carmy. It makes his cock throb and leak into his jeans.
Untangling from his embrace, you place a breathless kiss on Carmy's lips. His slick digits dig into your hips as he prolongs it.
Blindly, you find the edge of his jeans and unbutton them. If Carmy notices, he doesn't say anything. You want to give him one more reason to stay with you.
He moans into your mouth when you grasp his length through his boxers. He's rock hard as he desperately ruts against your hand.
With your hold still on him, you push him to sit on the bed. Carmy looks up at you lustfully. You plant a single short kiss on his lips before kneeling on the floor between his legs. You leave love bites down his chest while looking up at him through your lashes.
Carmy brushes away any hair that falls on your face, his blue eyes focused solely on you. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pull them down along with his underwear.
His length pops up from its confines, slapping against his tummy. Its tip is a pretty pink shade, with a thick length and a slight curve to it. You salivate instantly at the sight of it.
Carmy's nervous under you. It's been a long since he's been with someone else, and he's never been the most confident.
"Relax," you say teasingly, kissing around his lower tummy to calm him.
Finally, your hand wraps around his cock, lightly pumping it. Leaving sloppy kisses down his happy trail, you feel Carmy's stomach taut in anticipation.
It's been so fuckin' long.
With your eyes staring into his hungry ones, you kiss the pink head that glistens with pre, teasingly brushing it against your lips. Keeping eye contact, you lick his length from base to tip. You alternate between kissing and licking for a minute, enjoying watching Carmy squirm.
"Fuck, Honey," Carmy throws his head back at your torturous pace.
"Look at me," you sweetly say.
Taking mercy on him, you part your lips to take his length into your warm, wet mouth, bobbing your head to a steady rhythm. Prying one of Carmy's hands from the bedsheets, you place it in your hair, encouraging him to use you.
"Good girl," he moans, fisting your hair to force you to take more of his cock. You let your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the strong muscles underneath.
Carmen observes you with hooded eyes as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him expertly. He's obsessed with how your lips leave behind a tinge of red lipstick on his skin.
"Shit-Fuck me," he yells into the room when you swallow around him.
You want him to cum, but Carmy has other plans. He doesn't think he'll last long if you make him cum now, so after the stunt you pulled, he pulls you off his sensitive cock.
The sight in front of him is erotic as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. The tears lining your eyes and blushed nose add to that pretty picture.
"c'me 'ere," he says, helping you up and kissing you as he leads you back to the bed. He tugs off your wet panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.
You lay back on your pillows with Carmy slotted between your legs. It's torture having him so close and yet so far. Now that you've gotten a taste of his cock you need more.
Carmy touches the inside of your thighs, inching his way closer to your cunt. He instantly notices how fuckin' wet you are. You're dripping even more than before.
"Sucking me off, got you this wet, princess?" He asks, leaning his forehead against yours.
"Mhm, Carmy, wish you would've cum in my mouth," you admit, tilting your head up to brush your lips against his.
"You have such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he chuckles darkly.
Where did this side of you come from? You're usually so sweet and delicate. He should've known you would be a freak in bed. To think he almost let this all go.
"Carmen, please."
"Please, what?" Carmen teases, lining his cock against your opening, wetting his cock.
"Fuck me," you moan, kissing his jaw.
"'m gonna fuck you good, princess," he promises, with a shaky nod before he remembers, "Fuck! I-I don't have a condom with me."
"I should have some in my drawer," you mention breathlessly.
Carmy opens the condom in record time but is surprised when you take it from his hands and roll it down his shaft yourself. You just want an excuse to keep touching him.
With your leg hiked up, he aligns himself and slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the sensation. Carmy, for one, is trying to not bust a nut so soon because you're so tight and warm.
Meanwhile, you hold onto Carmy's back as he stretches you out. It's been so long, and your toys aren't nearly as thick as him. You breathily moan in his ear, which he takes as a good sign as he begins thrusting more forcefully and deeper.
Carmy hopes this isn't a dream, and if it is, he hopes he doesn't wake up anytime soon. He has one hand holding onto your thigh and the other holding himself up. His gold chain dangles above you as he picks his head up from its spot on your shoulder. You take the chance to tug on it, returning his attention to your lips.
"You feel so fuckin' good, princess," Carmy groans, squeezing your thigh.
"I love your cock, Carmy," you whine, feeling the drag of his cock on your walls. The pleasure is all-consuming, leaving a fuzzy feeling in your brain.
"You like when I fuck you like this?"
"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."
His hips snap hard against yours, hitting that spot each and every time. His pelvis hitting your clit. He squeezes your thigh, hips, and sides before his hand squeezes your tits, too, playing with your nipples.
Suddenly, he straightens up, pulling you down the bed to have you flushed against his pelvis. He's a sight for sore eyes that forces you to keep your eyes open.
His thrusts are more forceful like this, where he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you towards him with each snap. It makes your tits bounce, hypnotizing him.
Through your lustful gaze, he looks like a marble statue. His chest glimmers under the lowlights of your room as sweat clings to him, his chain jumping against the blushed skin of his chest, and his fucking hair falling over his pretty eyes. The set of his jaw could've been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.
Your hands indulgently reach down to touch him in any way you can. You can only reach his stomach, where a nice pair of abs appear due to the effort.
"You like what you see?" Carmy teases. He's entirely lost on you because otherwise, he wouldn't be as cocky to say that.
"You're so handsome," you pitifully say. Your brain not computing as it should, but how can it when it's being fucked out of you?
Carmy doesn't know how to respond. It's not often he's called handsome or looked at as lustfully as you're looking at him. Thankfully, he doesn't need to say much as your eyes roll back and you squeeze your walls around him.
"Carmy, I'm so close," you pant, trying to find any part of him to hold. He offers you his hand, lacing your fingers together.
"Just a little longer, princess," Carmy groans as you clench around him. "Fuck, don't do that to me."
He glances down at the spot where you and him meet to see a ring of white on the base of his cock. He's enthralled with the way you stretch to accommodate him and the way your pink walls drag along his length when he pulls out. Fuckin' beautiful.
Putting all his knowledge to use, he thumbs your clit, making you jolt. He needs you to cum now, or he won't make it. His balls feel like they're about to burst.
"Carmy," you cry out, tightening the hold on his hand.
You teeter on the edge for only a second until you cum, waves of pleasure washing over you. Carmy curses from above you as your tightening walls choke his cock, making him cum too. He stutters his hips a couple more times, riding out his orgasm.
He leans back down again, catching your lips in a small kiss. His body slowly relaxes against yours as his head rests on your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and perfume.
"That was good," you breathe heavily, rubbing your hands up and down your back. You're just starting to think clearly.
"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.
There's a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.
A bubble encases you, and it can't be popped as long as you stay in your bedroom. Carmy doesn't want to leave; it's late already, and in a couple of hours, he has to get up and go to The Bear to repeat the process.
For once, he forgets about that and focuses solely on you. He has a couple of hours to spare. Sleep is overrated.
You face each other on the bed, talking in hushed whispers. Your fingers trace the '773' tattoo on his bicep like you've always wanted to do. It tickles Carmy, so he grabs your hand and kisses your palm.
"Now that I'm thinking about it. I didn't see your tattoo," he whispers to prevent disturbing the peace.
Your face warms at his words. You had forgotten about that. He's seen a lot of you in the past couple of hours. What's a bit more of skin?
"You missed my big bad tattoo?" you joke, poking his nose.
"Show me," he says with a lopsided smile.
You make it dramatic, rolling your eyes and giving him a big sigh. Sitting up on the bed, you peel the bed sheets from your body. Carmy props himself up on his elbow in anticipation.
Right there, on your left side and under the curve of your breast is a small outline of Winnie the Pooh's face. Carmy touches it, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. Unsurprisingly, it's precisely what he expected from you.
A few chuckles pass his lips as he pulls you back into his arms.
"Don't laugh. It made sense at the time," you whine, covering yourself back up.
Carmy pulls you to his chest, kissing your temple, "I'm sure it does. Pooh Bear loves his Honey," Just like he does.
"Exactly! Someone gets it!"
And he does because Carmy, aka The Bear, is quickly falling for his Honey.
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A couple of days later, Carmy is back at your house helping you prepare the famous pizza you promised him. He lets you take the lead on everything, preferring to follow your instructions rather than let his mind run wild. It's not like you'll let him do most of the work anyway; it's your recipe, and you're protective over it.
"Can you chop up the veggies?" You ask him as you lay down the dough in a pan.
"Yes, Chef," he nods, kissing your cheek as he digs through your kitchen drawers for a knife.
"Oh, I like the sound of that," you muse, shaking your shoulders as you knead the dough to spread it.
"Don't let it get to your head, Hun," Carmy smiles, slicing the vegetables expertly.
Cooking with Carmy is surprisingly easier than you thought. He's not controlling over the kitchen or judgy. He lets you do your thing in peace, following your orders no matter how strange they might be. This is your kitchen, not his.
As you spread the sauce and cheese over one of the doughs, Carmy gets a call. He wipes his hands with a rag and picks it up. You only hear his side of the conversation.
"No, I'm off tonight. I'm with my girl. Call Sugar. She should be able to help you with that. Great. Thanks."
Carmy had promised himself that he would try to balance it all better. He has his team to help each other out. The Bear is a priority, but so are you because you help him keep whatever sanity he has left.
Carmy hangs up, and when he returns to you, he notices the grin on your lips as you put the toppings he chopped on the pizza.
"What's with the smile?" Carmy stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he props his head on your shoulder. Your hair tickles his nose, smelling the notes of coconut of your shampoo he digs his head farther into it.
"I'm your girl?" You ask, the smile still present on your face. He'd missed your initial reaction when you heard him call you 'my girl.' You almost dropped the container of pepperoni that was in your hands. It's a shock cause he never asked you to be his girl.
Carmy pauses and tenses up against you. "Uh, yes? Hold up. Turn around," he orders, as he places his hand on your hips to turn your body around.
"Yes, chef," you respond cheekily, your arms around his neck, careful not to touch his sweater with your messy hands.
"Aren't you my girl?" He frowns, rubbing a thumb over your hips.
"I could be, but I don't remember you asking," you pretend to think.
Carmy never directly asked you to be his girlfriend, and you never asked him to be your boyfriend. You might as well be a couple since you've been dating long enough. You decide to seize the opportunity now to get it out of him. Having a proper anniversary day would be nice because you hope this lasts.
"I see, my mistake," Carmy nods, catching your vibe, "Honey…"
"Yes, Carmy?" You blink innocently at him.
"Would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" He finally asks.
You could joke around but decided against it cause the moment is perfect, "I'd love to," you nod, giving him a small kiss.
When the pizza is cooked, you bring it over to the dining table. Serving Carmy a pretty slice. Excitedly, you wait for him to bite into it and taste it.
"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.
"You were right. Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy agrees with an unbelievable laugh. He's got a lot to learn from you. It's the truth, or maybe he's blinded by his feelings. Only time will tell where you and Carmy will end up.
The End?
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thank you guys for pulling through and reading! i know it's a slow burn but i hope you liked it! i certainly enjoyed writing it even though it took me like 4 months.
if you liked it, i would appreciate you liking it, commenting or reblogging. if you have some feedback feel free to send it my way too. i wanna get better at this whole writing thing!
thank you! bye xx
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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months
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DCxDP Fanfic idea: Wrong Number
Bruce prides himself in keeping all of his networks secured. If he didn't make it himself, he had the funds and connections to get him the best working on his systems.
He had backup plans in case the systems were ever hacked, of course, but he had yet to encounter a cyber attack that wasn't beaten away by his firewalls or his team.
Babs and Tim were far more feral when booting out unwanted guests. The level of protection was also transferred to his other systems that weren't Batman-related, just to make sure the connection between Bruce and Batman was never made.
That's why he never really checks his personal phone's caller ID, not the one he gave out as Brucie Wayne, but the one Bruce used for his real life without any masks- civilian or vigilante. The only ones who had the number- and the access- were his children and Alfred.
Not even the Justice League- those who were aware of his identity- knew of this number.
Bruce is in the middle of typing up a report for the next Wayne Board meeting when his personal phone rings. He figures it's Dick giving him a call to update him on his drive home or maybe Jason, as his son was planning on going to college.
"Go for Papa Bruce," He says, knowing his kids hate his phone greeting and doing it deliberately to spite them.
There is a long pause where he can't help but smirk thinking his child is either rolling their eyes or cringing too hard to properly speak. Eventually, a voice cracks over the speaker.
"Hello. I'm selling cookies to raise money for my own star. Would like to buy a box from me?" says a boy, not one he has taken in. The voice is young maybe not even double digits yet. Bruce is alarmed.
"Who are you?! How did you get this number?" He demands, yanking his phone to his face and seeing, with a chill, a phone number out of state.
His system had been compromised. By a child. By accident.
"My name is Danny!" The boy chirps. "I sell cookies. Like the Girl Scouts, but I'm a boy, and I don't scout."
"That's rather fantastic, lad. What kind of cookies are you selling?" Bruce asks to keep the boy on the line while sending an email blast to the others. It's a string of numbers that are code for compromise so they all know to close any communication channel until it's safe to get back on.
"Chocolate chip. Mint Slim. Oatmeal and peanut butter. I made them myself!"
Right. Bruce hooks up his phone, tracing the call. The signal bounces off the call, swinging up to a salute and falling back down to earth. In seconds he has the boy's location. It pings in a small town right outside of Star City.
He sends Barry a private message. His friend is already on the way to the location. He'll get the boy in a few seconds.
"How much for a box of chocolate chips? Those are my favorite." Bruce tells the boy, voice whimsical as his Brucie persona demands.
In an unsure tone, the boy pauses, then whispers, "I don't know. No one ever let me get this far."
"How about twenty for a box of dozen? I'll buy five boxes for each of my kids that live at him," Bruce tells him, and the boy gasps.
"That could buy me one whole night in a hotel!"
Bruce's insides freeze. What did he mean-
"Hey! No! Let go!" Danny suddenly screams. Bruce's heart launches- he hates it when kids get hurt, especially those that sound like Danny- until Barry's voice comes over the speaker.
"I got him, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for alerting the Justice League Hotline." That's code for This is not a threat to you Batman and Bruce allows himself to relax just a little.
"Narc!" The boy shouts, outraged, before the call drops. Barry is likely taking over the situation, which means Bruce can leave it in his capable hands.
After reassuring his kids that he is fine and that they are all safe, he suits up and meets the Flash in the Watch Tower. There, he learns that Danny is only seven years old and has been living on the streets for a while.
The boy had been surviving by baking some cookies to sell on the side of the street- where did he bake them? The boy would not say- until he got the bright idea to try to sell through phone calls like he had seen on TV.
He punched in random numbers at the community center phone and gave his pitch about a star, thinking people would be more willing to buy from him if he had an excellent reason.
Barry had left him with CPS, but he looked devastated about that. It turned out that Danny was a meta and had likely been kicked out of his home once it was found out based on what he said of his parents.
Bruce felt he should assure Barry that Danny was fine and look into his placement to help settle his more sensitive teammate's nerves.
He was unhappy that Danny was not in a good placement; there were far too many reports from a concerned neighbor to make him think it was a safe place. Given the fact that placement had a lot of meta kids that "fell through the cracks," Bruce worried he had just stumbled across a trafficking ring.
He would sick Barry and Jason on them. Just to ensure they wouldn't see the light of day again.
Still, that did not fix his mistake with Danny, the little cookie seller.
Bruce hacked into the system to move Danny. He thought about where he would move the young child but ultimately had him in Wayne Manor.
Just until he could confirm that he would be safe. He certainly didn't think about the adorable little boy who called him with his heart in his hand and got sent to a terrible place for three weeks because of Bruce.
Danny arrived at Wayne Manor with a happy little bounce and a chipper outlook on life than Bruce was expecting. "If it isn't Mr. Narc!"
God, he going to adopt the boy, isn't he?
(Danny has been thrown into a different universe, aged down to a child. He survived by overshadowing people into letting him spend the night baking cookies.
He was thrown into a somewhat typical home, but the nosy neighbor down the street took far too much notice of his overshadowing, and now he was being moved again.
Maybe he can terrorize Mr. Narc now instead? )
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sinfulpanda16 · 4 months
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JJK Men x Foreign Reader
Gojo Saturo, Toji Fushiguro, Kento Nanami, Suguru Geto x gn reader
For the most part, you and your bf live everyday life through his culture. So how would he react if he sees a glimpse of yours?
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You two were doing origami together, you were making a cute swan and he was making you a flower. It was such a cute moment the two of you laughing and him occasionally giving you a few quick pecks on your face and then you get a phone call.
You look at the number "Oh it's my mom." you say smiling at your phone.
Gojo smiles "Oh it's my future mother-in-law! Go ahead and answer I'll be patient." he says giving you a smirk.
You blush and answer the call. Gojo listens to you as you say hello in your native language. You two only speak to each other in Japanese so hearing you speak your first language is so rare.
He rests his chin in his palm still listening as you continue to speak. You sound so beautiful. You look beautiful. The way you talk with your mother in her first tongue makes him melt, your voice has a different ring to it due to the different pitches. And that Accent! OMG he's fanboying now.
After the phone call ends you turn to see him looking at you in awe. "What?" you ask giggling.
He smiles "You should speak in (n/l) more often. I think you sound hot as hell." he says enjoying your reaction to that.
Your face grows red. Really? No one has ever told you that and hearing that from him made you appreciate him more because it shows that he loves you for you.
You smile at him and he kisses your cheek again and gives you a paper rose. Then in your language he said "I love you".
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You were laying on the couch just staring into space. It's officially been five years since you've moved to Japan. When you were younger you're dream has always been to move to Japan and you did it. You moved to Japan, grew to live comfortably, made some friends and even met your boyfriend.
However just like everyone else who moves away, you get homesick. You think back to when you were a kid and lived with your family back at home. It seemed so long ago and then you think about the yummy food you and your family would make. You smiled softly to yourself thinking about the nostalgia.
You get up from the couch and go to the kitchen. You checked to see if you had all the ingredients you needed for your favorite dish your grandmother made for as a kid. You do, so you hurried to get started on making (f/d).
As you cooked you realized something was missing. You think about how when your grandmother used to cook she would tell you to turn on her music. You laugh softly "Aww grandma. Even now you still manage to make me play your music." you say to yourself and start playing some, with memories flowing back.
Soon after a tiring day Nanami comes back home, he sighs and takes off his coat. He hears some music coming from the kitchen but then he freezes when he realizes he can't understand it. Then he smells something good, he doesn't know what it is but he'd like to see what it is.
He heads to the kitchen and finds you there. Thats what the smell is, its you're cooking. "Y/n." you turn around to see him. He looked a bit confused, and you smiled. "Hey lover, I'm making (f/d). It's a dish my family back at home eat. Do you want to help?"
Nanami stands there for a moment, he's never tried some of the traditional food from your country or ever heard of the music, buts it's all you. All of it is your blood and honestly, he's loving this side of you. He smiles softly at, "Sure love." he says and pulls his sleeves up so he can help you.
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He's walking to meet up with you. He's not paying attention to much but then he sees you from his peripheral vision. He stops and turn to look at you and you look, wow.
You stand out from the rest, you really do. He's proof lol every time someone see's you they can't help but to admire you. Geto stood there looking at you smirking.
You're (h/t) (h/c) hair is beautiful and your (s/c) skin looks so soft and delicate. You were talking to two other women who were actually asking about you and where you're from. They seemed genuinely interested and curious about your culture. The way you spoke Japanese in the cutest accent made Geto let out a chuckle. It was just too cute.
It's funny because it's obvious that you're not from around here and yet you have such a way of making the people here adore you. They complement your eyes, your voice, or your hair. If he had to pick his favorite would be your eyes. Such a beautiful color and shape. Damn, you're gorgeous he thinks to himself.
You turn to see Geto is already here. With an excited smile you say your goodbyes to the two women and head to him. "Hi my love!" you yell as you run towards him.
He smiles "Hey gorgeous" he says with wide arms for you. Yes, that's right this beautiful foreigner is his partner. You jump into his arms, and he picks you up. And this is exactly how he thinks about you every day.
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The first time Toji saw you he was infatuated with you. Even he had to admit you look so beautiful and from there he didn't care. He was gonna make you his.
And he did lol.
He was sitting on the couch on his phone. Endless scrolling of nothing interesting and he started to get bored. He was about to get up but then you enter the living room wearing something he was unfamiliar with.
With a blush on your face you ask, "What do you think love?". He honestly had no idea what you were wearing but it looked cute on you.
"What is it my love?" he asks leaning forward on the couch. You tell him the name and explain to him that it's what the people in your culture wear when there's a certain occasion.
Toji smirks "Do a turn for me beautiful." he orders. Shyly, you obey and do a spin for him. You can't help but giggle when you look at his face. You can tell he approves.
He chuckles "I think it looks beautiful on you" he states. He gets up "But you know..." he makes his way over to you. You start getting uptight, you love his dominance, but you have to admit it's kind of intimidating. Soon he's towering over you. He leans down to your ear "I think it'd look better on the ground by our bed." You shiver and let him pick you up and carry you to the bedroom.
So yeah, he loves you so much and loves learning about your home and its culture.
And bruh, how did they all already know what the word for Daddy was in your language?!
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p1utofairy · 7 months
Text
PAC: “are you down to be a distraction, baby?” 🐅🖤🪄🌟
• how will your person approach you?
disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. i’ve had trouble uploading this ugh it wasn’t coming out how i wanted but here we go <3 feels like it’s been forever 🥲 enjoy!
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pile 1 ↓
“could you blame me for needing you? you’re the reason i got a weakness, oh, no you drive me crazy, still that's my baby. can’t get enough of you. baby, it's somethin' that you do.”
hiii pile 1! i'm immediately hearing that your person is enamored by you. they love the way you walk, the way you smile, the way you talk, the way you smell…quite literally everything. i see them staring at you a lot, it might not be obvious at first but they’re gonna try to feel you out/see if your receptive to their vibe. they’re like a cat lurking in the shadows i’m hearing. more than likely, you won’t even be focused on getting into a relationship or actively looking for a partner before they pop up on your radar; your person will just come to you. i see them coming up to you in a slightly crowded or busy environment and saying something sly but it doesn’t come out the way they intended lol they might stutter over their words and then kick themselves over it later. awww it’s cute, you get them flustered and nervous. you may not think that you’re intimidating (actually i’m picking up that some of you might be a bit reserved/quiet) but your presence shakes them to the core. it’s like all their calmness goes out the window when they’re face to face with you. you get their heart racing, palms sweaty and mind wandering but they’ll try to put on their brave face and act like they’re not having a whole meltdown inside. LMFAOOOOO they won’t even know what to do with themselves, you’ve got them down bad. i just heard “i’ve fallen and i can’t get up!” lol i think this is what’s gonna get the ball rolling on this new beginning with them; your humor. even if they don’t have the smoothest delivery, you won’t hold it against them you’ll just keep the conversation going and vibe with them. they’ll love this about you…how non-judgmental you are. they can be themselves around you 🥹 and as you two get more comfortable around each other, you’ll both be able to open up and talk about everything under the sun. awww so cute pile 1!
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pile 2 ↓
“i'll be your groupie, baby. ‘cause you are my superstar. i’m your number one fan, give me your autograph. sign it right here on my heart.”
pile 2…when i say your person’s eyes/eye contact is gonna make your knees BUCKLE 😮‍💨 whew! my goodness, you’ll be squeezing your thighs together lol. this person is very forward and blunt, it might catch you off guard cause you wouldn't think that when you first see them. i feel like they’re very calm and collected on the outside but inside of them is a flame waiting to be sparked…and you’re the match. they'll approach you in a calculated and meticulous way i’m hearing, they have it all planned out. they might even make a cute gesture/treat you to something that will make you go “awww” internally. i feel like your body will be very responsive to them…like when you see them you might freeze and panic lol they'll think it’s cute. conversing with them is going to be so easy, you'll be able to tell that they're soaking up every word that you're saying. this is hottttt pile 2. when they first lay their eyes on you, they’ll just know they have to have you. you make their heart nearly skip a beat. some of you make look young for your age/have a baby face cause when you’re talking to them, they’ll be thinking about how cute you are. even the way you speak makes them go crazy 😩 just know that your first interaction with them will be living in their mind rent-free lol.
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pile 3 ↓
“you make the confusion go all away from this cold and messed up world. i am in love with you, you set me free! i can't do this thing called life without you here with me.”
pile 3 i gotta start by saying you and your person are absolutely adorkable. lmaooo that was so corny but i feel like you two will be very silly with each other from day 1. you both share some similar interests — possibly watch the same shows/like the same music…something of that nature and that’s how your person is going to shoot their shot. shot clock by ella mai just came to mind, “twenty-four seconds, yeah, you better not stop. you got twenty-four seconds, can you beat the shot clock?” lmfao they might feel like the pressure is on with you. you won’t necessarily be pressuring them, but they’ll feel like if they don’t make their move now someone else might swoop in and grab your attention. they don’t wanna waste your time or time in general, and trust me when i say that they’re gonna put a lot of effort into getting your attention and keeping you entertained. you and/or your person may have some gemini placements. you'll think that they're very cute and sweet <3 they have little quirks about them that you'll pick up on and think to yourself “awww i love them 🥹” very much peter parker vibes like yes peter might be a bit clumsy, awkward and quirky but he's an absolute sweetheart (and heartthrob) so you'll really love spending time with this person pile 3.
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mariahcarreyyy · 2 months
Note
Hi!!! I absolutely adore your writing!!! Could I please request prompt number 8 from the angst dialogue list for Charles Leclerc? Thank you!!!
# prompt no.8, "what do you want from me? to throw away all i've worked for?" // "all i'm asking for is your time."
mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post
Change was something you did not lightly graze over or dismiss with a nonchalant wave of your hand. It slowly seeped inside the cracks of your monaco apartment walls, finding solace in your discomfort. But once even a portion of it was there, there was no denying its presence.
Not when the dent of Charles' curves is no longer easy to trace; yours was everpresent, wallowing and growing familiar with the ache in your bones every time you'd wake up to an cold, empty bed.
Not when, despite being allocated time off from work, Charles had let his job consume him. Nipping at his heart and head, wrapped in a frantic worry of not living up to his potential. Lately, it was as if it held greater priority than the peace you'd once been able to bring him.
He's slouched on his chair, fingers tightly wrapped around the wheel of the simulator; his movements are jerky yet cautious, risky, yet he is all but willing. Standing at the burgundy doorframe, you felt like you'd regressed to the age of a toddler—thrashing in your father's hold, begging for an ounce of attention, of care.
"Charles?"
The word drifts away, following the breeze of the opened window, swirling in the starry night sky. He does not answer. That's fine, nothing new. Your lips part to the shape of his name again, timid and picking dutifully at your fingertips. An exhasperated huff escapes his mouth, latching on to the side of his headphones and not-so-lightly placing them on the table.
With gritted teeth and a slight crane to his neck, barely allowing you to enter his peripheral vision, he mutters, "Yes, y/n?"
"Dinner's ready," you house your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting patiently for the dismissive 'not hungry right now' that would roll off his tongue in mere moments.
And Charles does not fail you or your expectations. He motions a hand to his simulator, sending you a pitiful excuse of a sorry smile that makes your palms furl into fists.
"Charles, I said—"
"I know what you said, mon amour," he sighs, and the pet name feels foreign on his tongue and bitter to your ears. "'Can't leave the sim."
Any shame you have left dwindles next to your bruised ego and non-existent dignity.
"One dinner, Charles, 'won't even take twenty minutes out of your day." Your voice is small, directed towards the back of his head, satisfaction pricking at your heart when his hands freeze, sending him crashing through the virtual track.
Desperate, do you even care anymore?
Abruptly, he stands up, arms extended on the table, to steady himself. The shift in atmosphere made you gnaw at your lip harder, and the metallic crimson made you wince. Your feet are glued to the floor.
Charles turns, standing up right to face you. He looks normal, you realize. You've been trying to figure out how to breathewithout him near you, and he looks normal.
"What do you want from me? To throw away all I've worked for?" He raises a predatory brow, malice dripping from his tongue. "Eat, y/n. I'll probably order something later, but I'm not wasting my time with—with."
He makes a vague gesture with his hand.
With you, is left unspoken.
"All I'm asking for is your time." You meet his hard stare and refrain from cowering at the sight. "But it's obvious you don't give a fuck to at least give me that."
You don't run, but you'd never walked so frantically out of a room before. A small part of you is waiting for Charles to scurry behind you, shouting a 'wait! wait, y/n!'. Which would probably not grant him immediate forgiveness but perhaps warm the shivers coursing through your body.
He doesn't.
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heeseungwifey · 24 days
Text
I'll pick you up - Park Sung Hoon
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pairing: idol!Sunghoon x y/n
warnings: contains smut! Minors don’t interact pls
Is a well-known fact by kpop fans that once an idol gets their driving license it means they’re having sex. Since they live in a dorm shared with their group members, they have no other choice but to fuck in the backseat of a car. 
Sunghoon is one of those idols. Annoyed he has to share a bedroom with the other 6 members of Enhypen, he got tired of having no privacy and got into driving classes ASAP. It was quite easy for him to pass the test, since he’s very skilful and has learnt a lot from driving video games. 
How does he get girls? easy, he can pick and choose at all the fanmeets, in which many fans would slide their phone numbers in tiny pieces of paper between the album pages when he’s gonna sign them. 
He often turns them away, scared of getting into a scandal. But, from time to time, he sees one fan he wishes he could call and meet up with. That's why he was so keen to get his driving licence so that he wouldn't have to wait so long.  
At the very first fanmeet Enhypen did after he passed the driving test, he was expectant of who was in the crowd. Many girls showed up, excited and happy to get an interaction with their favorite member of the group. As the fans sit down on the chairs in front of them, Sunghoon spots a girl with long dark hair and an angelic aura. She's a fan of his, a T-shirt with his picture on it and a banner with his name on it. Lucky him.
The queue moves way slower than he wishes, making him desperate to greet her. When he sees she’s already talking to one of the members, he can no longer focus on what he’s doing. All his signatures look like scribbles and he keeps forgetting the name of the fan in front of him. After many apologies, she’s right in front of him.
-Hello! What’s your name? - Sunghoon says as he stares at her while she sits on the chair in front of him. 
-Y/n - She says, shy and blushy, avoiding his eyes.  
- Y/n… a very pretty name - Sunghoon looks directly into her eyes, wanting to keep eye contact with her. 
-Thank you… - She looks at him and now she can’t stop giggling and darting her eyes from one side to the other of the room. 
-And tell me y/n… I see you’re wearing my face on your T-shirt. Am I your favourite?- Sunghoon smirks. 
-Yes, you are. Since the very beginning, I knew I wanted to be your fan. - she has sparkles in her eyes, enjoying talking about her dear bias.
-Good to know I have such loyal fans. You know, I have to admit you are also been my favourite since you walked in here. You’re beautiful. - Sunghoon lowers his voice and gets closer to her ear, freezing her on the spot. 
-Ahm… that’s, that’s… uhm I don’t know what to say… about that… ahm… - y/n gets surprised by a timer, indicating the time of their brief talk is over. 
Y/n doesn’t want to get up from the chair. She still has something to give to him. She looks at him in the eyes and shakes the pages of the album he just signed in front of him, a piece of paper falling from the inside. 
Sunghoon couldn’t be happier. He was worried she might be a fan who thought didn’t have a shot with him. She does, oh my god how much she does. He couldn’t think of anything or anyone else throughout the whole day. With her phone number written on a piece of paper in the bottom of his pocket, waiting for him to get off work.
When Sunghoon got to the dorms, he stared at his phone waiting to gather the courage to call her. He knows she wants to meet up with him, that’s why she gave him her phone number in the first place. So why was he feeling so doubtful? 
Sunghoon picks up his damn phone and calls her, jumping with every dial tone. When he’s about to give up, a voice on the other line answers:
-Hello…? Who’s this? - y/n answers the phone and Sunghoon can hear voices in the background, a male voice standing out from all of them. Is she with a dude right now? Isn’t she a fan of him? Why did that bother him so much?
Sunghoon thought about hanging up the call. It’s whatever. She has her own life, of course she’s not gonna be waiting for him to call her. When she repeats herself for the third time, he decides to just try it, this is not about catching feelings but a one-night stand with a groupie. 
-Hi! y/n, this is Sunghoon. Do you have a minute?
-Omg, what?! I had the feeling it could be you, I don’t know why... this is a strange hour to call someone don’t you think?
-I want to see you. I’ll pick you up wherever you are right now. You up?
There’s silence on the other side of the call. She’s thinking. She’s not stupid, it’s obvious what this is about. She has to decide whether to leave her dignity aside or be happy. She now chooses to be happy. 
-Sure! I'm in Itaewon right now with a bunch of friends. I was going to go home in fifteen minutes, but I can leave now… Is it okay for you?
-I’ll pick you up outside of the metro station. 5 minutes and I’m there. 
Sunghoon hangs up, not even letting her answer. With a bunch of friends? His ass. Sure there’s some dude in that friend group that has been trying to make moves on her since they met. Women are so naive. He couldn’t have a girl friend that looked like that. A doll straight out of a magazine. The most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and sure he has seen a lot of pretty girls at award shows. It’s gonna take a lot for him to forget about that man’s voice, reminding him that this is just gonna be a one-time thing. Or that’s what he tells himself.
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He’s already waiting outside the metro station. There are a lot of people on the street since is a Friday night and everyone’s enjoying their free time drinking and going to clubs. He has done that a bunch of times but got so scared of getting caught that didn’t enjoy it one bit. 
A girl in a miniskirt and high heels walks alone around the entrance of the metro station, waiting for someone. Sunghoon realizes that he didn’t give any indication of how his car looks, and she doesn’t have a way of contacting him. Sunghoon curses at himself for being so careless, picking up his phone and calling her. 
-y/n I’m here. - Sunghoon observes as y/n looks around, looking for a car. 
-Hi! Ahm… What colour is your car? I swear there are so many people here It’s driving me crazy.
-Hold on, let me get out of the car and get you.
-That’s not necessary, just…
Sunghoon double-parks and gets fast in front of her. She looks gorgeous. Her eye makeup, sparkly and feminine and rosy cheeks. She seems to be a bit cold, so Sunghoon takes his coat off to put it on her. 
-You really didn’t need to get out, your car is pretty noticeable haha. If you had told me to look for the most expensive car around here, I would have walked to yours. 
-It would not be very gentlemanly of me to just wait for you in the car. Come on, let’s get inside, you’re gonna get cold. 
Sunghoon puts his hand on her shoulder, leading her to his car and opening the door for her. This is the least he can do, he sure does not plan on being a gentleman when they get in the backseat. But for now, he’s gonna give her a great time. 
He has a plan that although cliché, is still romantic. There’s a viewpoint in the Hannam-dong Hill in which one can park their car. That’s where he is headed. 
-So, where are we going? - y/n asks, turning to look at him curiously. 
-It’s a surprise. Just get comfortable. Is a 10-minute drive there. 
-May I ask you… why me? I know I gave you my phone number, but this is the craziest thing that has ever happened to me. 
Sunghoon looks at her, her body language showing an insecure side of her that Sunghoon rather than offputting finds charming and attractive. Constantly being surrounded by women who just care about their looks and are rather egocentric, y/n is just a normal girl. A gorgeous normal girl, with long legs and a pretty, pretty face. 
-Just because. Can’t I just want to spend my Friday night in your company? Since you're my fan, you might know a lot about me. I wanted to know more about you.
Y/n smiles from the passenger seat, charmed by his response. Although Sunghoon hadn’t prepared it, he was quite happy about how smooth that sounded. Guess he’ll get more experience once he starts doing this more often. 
The Spotify playlist is playing low on the car radio, giving a great ride for both. By the time Sunghoon gets to the viewpoint, y/n has already deciphered his plan. 
-Oh, the Hannam-dong hill, how fancy… I love this place, it’s such a beautiful sight of the Han River. Look, there’s a boat over there!
Sunghoon knows it was a good decision to come here. She seems so excited, pointing at the buildings and boats that can be seen from over there. With her flushed nose from the cold and his huge coat on her, his heart feels a warmth that scares him. What is he feeling right now for a girl he just met?
Overwhelmed by her cuteness, Sunghoon turns his mindset to the plan. This is not a date, he came here to fuck her. The faster he’s done with it, the earlier he can go to his dorm without having to give any explanations. 
-Y/n, get in the car. -He says coldly and gets in the backseat of his car, waiting for her to do the same. 
Y/n walks to the door of the back of the car. Slowly opens it, getting in with a cold breeze, looking at Sunghoon in the eyes just as he’s doing. The car is dark, with the only source of light being the streetlights.
Y/n realizes that her miniskirt has ridden up while sitting, revealing her thigh highs.  She attempts to cover them by pulling her skirt down, but Sunghoon stops her. His hands roam her legs, getting closer and closer. 
-May I… kiss you? - Sunghoon is focused on her lips, some lip tint still on them. She thought there was no use in reapplying before the date, so she just left them like that. 
-Sure… please do it - y/n didn’t have to say anything else, Sunghoon jumping to kiss her.
His hands were only on her thighs at first, but as the kiss got deeper he groped her ass and sat her on his lap. The miniskirt, now a belt pooling on her waist, and her hands all in his hair, pulling on the roots. 
The atmosphere feeling heavy, y/n had to take a breath. Grabbing Sunghoon by the neck and pushing him away, a string of saliva left behind, connecting them. He looks confused, as he might have not realised something have made her uncomfortable. 
-Are you good? Did something happen? - y/n just has her eyes closed, breathing and leaning her head back on the driver’s headrest. 
-No, just… take your shirt off. - Sunghoon follows her command immediately, his pale chest on display for her eyes to see. 
-Okay, I didn’t know this was gonna happen today so don’t laugh… - He raises an eyebrow, not understanding what she means. When y/n takes her top off, her breasts are cupped by a Hello Kitty bra, which makes Sunghoon giggle. 
-I told you not to laugh… - y/n pokes his cheek, giggling along with him. 
-You know what, I can fix it right now, don’t worry. - His hand goes to her back and unclasps her bra, her boobs bouncing free from the cute undergarment. 
Open-mouthed, he had never been in front of such pretty tits, taking her perky nipple to his mouth while he looks at her face. Y/n throws her head back, moaning in pleasure as she moves her hips, the feeling of his tongue connecting straight to her core. 
Sunghoon feels his hard-on rubbing inside his pants and it hurts bad, opening his pants and pulling them down to free his member, creating a tent on his boxers. Y/n whines at the sight, she knew he wasn’t average-sized but seeing in real life it sure seems big and girthy. 
-Hoon, I want to… help you with that - y/n gets off him as she places herself to give him head, being stopped. Sunghoon flips her by the legs so she’s on her back, laying on the seat while he hovers over her. 
-Such a good girl… wanting to take the lead. I’m sorry, this is my car, I make the decisions here.
Sunghoon gives a trail of kisses from her jaw to her belly button, licking her nipples on the way down. When he gets to her underwear, he just presses his pointy nose and smells, groaning.
-Delicious… uhm, the things I have been thinking of doing to you while in this position…  I don’t think I get to do them all today. - Sunghoon is hissing while he palms himself, enjoying the warmth of his head between her legs. 
-Please Hoon, take them off… it hurts - she’s rubbing her legs, trying to do something with the awful ache she has. 
Sunghoon peels her panties off, placing them on the headrest and pushing her legs to the side, so she opens them more and he gets to see her glistening pussy. His sight right now is to die for, the prettiest girl he has ever seen with watery eyes and rosy cheeks, open-legged for him. 
His mouth goes directly to it, savouring all of it as he licks, her moans making it difficult for him to concentrate. She grabs his hair, trying to keep him there as she’s feeling closer and closer to the climax. 
Inserting two fingers, Sunghoon works hard for her release, often looking at her to see her eyes rolling back and teeth biting her lip, trying to stop screaming. He might love blowjobs but, the pleasure it gives seeing a woman fall into madness as she contorts and whines would never compare. 
With loud screams and nonsensical sentences, Sunghoon knows he needs to keep working hard for her sweet venom to hit his tongue. Once she comes, she twists in pleasure, crying and tired of the cardio. 
Y/n lays there, heavy breathing and covering her eyes with her forearm, while Sunghoon cleans her by sticking his fingers and licking them. After a minute of gentle tummy rubs, he kisses her, grabbing her by the arms and sitting her up. 
-Hey pretty? Are you game over? - As hard as he might be now, he can’t help but think it is endearing how exhausted she seems, wishing he could just watch her sleep for a bit.
-I’m good, it’s just that it was so… strong. I have never come like that before. 
-I’ll take that as a compliment for my incredible labour. Hey, listen, if you’re too tired I can get you home and just…
-No, I’m good. I’m not getting out of here just yet. Aren’t you gonna fuck me? - she tilts her head and Sunghoon lets a laugh out, brushing her hair out of her face. 
Y/n grabs Sunghoon’s face with two hands and kisses him with passion, french kissing and their tongues up to each other's throats. She hops on his lap, her wet folds damping his boxer while she rubs herself. 
After licking and playing with her tits while making out, Sunghoon can no longer endure the pain on his member. He remembers that, before this date, he bought condoms and left them inside the glove box of his car. 
-Y/n hey… I need you to do me a favour - Sunghoon says as he keeps on peppering kisses on her face and upper body.
-Uhm, tell me… - she has her eyes closed while she answers, fisting his hair while he sucks on her nipples. 
-I have condoms… in the glove box… can you pick them for me from here?- He looks up, straight into her eyes. 
-Sure. Hold on, let me flip over. - She crosses her leg over his lap, now sitting the other way around, a nice view of her ass and back for Sunghoon. 
He holds her by the hips as he elongates over to the glove box of the car, thankful nobody was around to see her naked. On the back of the car, the windows are tinted but at the front, anyone could see her. 
She grabs the box and hands it to Sunghoon, who takes no time in opening it and ripping the wrapping of a condom to put it on. He taps her asscheek and she stands up, waiting for him to pull his underwear down, letting his member free. 
-Do you want me to put it in? - Sunghoon slaps his dick on her leg, asking for consent. 
-Of course I do! ... And if you don’t do it now I’ll do it myself… please Hoon, do it already! - It’s funny to Sunghoon how cute and sweet she seemed to him that morning at the fansign and how now she’s now begging for his cock in the backseat of his car. He loves girls like that, with duality. 
Not even a minute passes but y/n is already grabbing his member and sticking it in herself, her face of pleasure visible from the rear mirror. He needs to stop looking if he wants to last more than five seconds, her open mouth and furrowed eyebrows too much for him to look at. 
He instead focuses on her ass slapping on his thighs, wiggling with the movement. He grabs her by the hair lightly, pulling her to his chest while she keeps on moving. She grips the headrest in front of her with two hands, to help her keep on bouncing up and down. 
As soon as she gets tired and her movements become sloppier, she begins to whine for Sunghoon’s help, and he swiftly places her laying on the backseat, now in missionary position. 
With the windows steamed up from the heat in the car, they look into each other's eyes in the midst of the most passionate sex encounter they've ever had. They moan in unison, their skin sticking and a moist sound coming from where they connect. 
-So.. fucking good… I can’t let you go just yet… this can’t be the end… arghh… - Sunghoon is feeling anxious, with his and her climax approximating, he knows the end of this is coming. And he’s only wishing for this to last forever. 
-I’m…I’m…not going…anywhere, it’s… okaaay Hoon - Even though she can't say a complete sentence, what she means is true. If he's afraid of this ending, she's afraid it's the last time she'll ever see him again. It may be a great memory to cherish forever, but it's heartbreaking to think that it’ll never be repeated.  
She understands, from the moment she heard his voice on the phone until now, she knows her role. She’s a one-night stand, a groupie, a slut. She took the offer and left her dignity and integrity at Itaewon, trading her respect for herself for a quick fuck with a man who might not even care about her.
This is the first time she has done this. She has only had sex with men she was in a relationship with. Although nowadays is not a big deal, she promised herself she would take care of her body, never letting anyone have their way with her if they didn’t love her. 
But why is Sunghoon being way gentler than the men she swore loved her? Why does he look into her eyes with passion, fondness and warmth? Is he a psycho?
They both hold hands as they come, y/n first and then Sunghoon, falling on top of her and resting his head on her chest while she embraces him with her arms and legs. The car feels hot, perfect for them to have a quick nap in this position and not freeze in the cold of the night. 
At 4:30 am, after they’ve gotten dressed, they go to a convenience store, where they both pick onigiris and ramyun, hopping back into the car to eat. 
Sunghoon stares at y/n as she eats well the onigiri, hungry from all the exercise. A smile scapes from the corner of his lips, getting y/n’s attention. 
-What’s so funny? Do I have mayo on my face? - She looks into the rear mirror, checking. 
-No no, you don’t, I just think you’re so cute - Sunghoon pinches her cheek, laughing.
-Funny how you can still think that about me… tonight has been quite enlightening about my true self. -y/n looks outside of the passenger’s seat window. 
-You can be cute and have a good ride… to me that just makes you ten times hotter. I don’t know if you’re under the wrong impression, but I liked what we did tonight.
-It’s just… I have never done this before, I swear. I just like you so much that I had to… say yes. 
Sunghoon shouldn’t feel guilty, but he does. Without wanting, he pressured her into doing this. It made him insecure, and even though he does consider himself a handsome man, maybe he shouldn’t use his fame to meet up with girls, his fans.
-Sorry, if you felt pressured to meet up with me, I didn’t mean to… fuck, I feel like shit now. 
-Sunghoon that’s not… what I meant at all. It’s the best thing that has happened to me, the best time I’ve ever had. I am just afraid of what you might think about me now…
Her hand, which was rubbing his neck softly, stops. Sunghoon looks at her, a tint of shock in his eyes. So that is what this is all about. She’s scared he thinks she’s some sort of whore. When he has never felt this much intimacy, or connection… with anyone. Not even with some girlfriends in the past.
-Hey, what the fuck… what I think about you? C’mon, I would be an asshole if I thought shit about you. Y/n, all I know is that… if you ever wanted to meet up again, I’d cancel everything just to pick you up.
-Yeah, I guess so… to meet and do this again, right? That’s what I thought. You know, I wouldn’t feel good about that. - y/n looks outside the window, trying to end eye contact with Sunghoon, feeling betrayed by herself. 
- I mean as a date, y/n. If you wanted to meet, I would do it in a heartbeat just to see you again. We might have to hide, you know, so people don’t see us, me, around… don’t feel pressured to say yes this time, I just want you to know that I like your company before anything else. 
She looks at him, wondering if she should believe him. While it sounds sincere it also seems impossible for them to become something. He grabs her hand and kisses it, soft warm lips getting in touch with her cold skin. 
-We could try… Sunghoon, is safe to say that I love you… as an idol, and I don’t want to kill that version of you. A man who’s so passionate and caring about everything he does… please don’t hurt me and make me hate you…
-I would never do that, ever. I swear to you, y/n I’ll take the chance and never let it go… just, let’s try. Okay?
He holds both her hands now. And with that “okay”, she feels she could trust him. Now she feels like it was meant to happen, giving him her number, picking up the phone call… everything is connected. 
She gets closer to him and gives him a kiss, exciting Sunghoon who suddenly deepens the kiss, like a starved man that has been waiting decades for it. She reciprocates, minutes of the most loving kiss any of them have ever had. And of which there will be many more in the future. 
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psychelis-new · 3 months
Text
pick a pile: "I love you because..."
take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a love confession for you. it could be a friend, a colleague, someone you help/ed, a family member, your guides or ancestors, your higher self or your present/future partner/spouse. meditate to put yourself in a receiving mode and go check your one, dear soul. enjoy your Valentine's day: whether you feel lonely or not, whether you are in a relationship or not, know that you are deeply loved.
if you rather get a message from your present/future partner/spouse, check my instagram @/psychelis.new
don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.
(photos found on unsplash)
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1 2 3 4
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pile 1
I love you of a quiet pure respectful love, because you're strong and brave and you taught me that struggles can be overcome and new goals can always be reached. You taught me a lot also about love and friendship: maybe you don't know, but I have been going through a very tough situation and finding you/having you near, listening to you, helped me so much. You were (and are) like a dream come true to me. You made me stronger, inspired me and helped me move on with a lot of confidence and hopefulness more, and I'll always be thankful to you for this. I am not sure you know about this, about my feelings, I always look at you from a distance and freeze in awe in front of your kindness and beautiful smile. I would like to approach you and thank you personally but I am not sure you would accept it from me. I am still afraid to be abandoned or to disappoint you but I am sure one day I will be able to change this also thanks to you. One day I will be bold enough and thank you properly. I am working to get ready for that day and have no more fear.
[more symbols/signs: fairytales, children, The Little Prince (the dialogue with the fox in particular), fox, star, comets; could be friend, sb in your same school/job place crushing on you, ex, -online- admirer, childhood friend/crush; I'm getting lot of school-related/young energy, could even be a student if you're a teacher or sth; it seems someone who isn't used to kindness and gentleness/support and bc of this you made them addicted to this side of yours]
song: fetish | selena gomez, gucci mane
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pile 2
I love you because you guide me and give me peace. Your voice is like a tender sound calming my nerves, your words are warm and embracing me anytime I need love. You came up unexpectedly and brought the wind of change with you, a warm tender soft one that caresses me and plays with my hair making me smile of a peaceful smile. Something I could hardly experience before. I love you because you help me feel better and change/grow for the better. You've helped me cleansing from my toxic past and you made me see things from a different perspective. Like in a snap of fingers, everything went from chaos to calm, in my mind and in my heart. You always know what to say to bring me back on my feet, to balance me, and you guide me in every move I take. I am thankful for having you by my side, my true anchor and gentle loving sister soul. Never cease to speak to me, I love listening to your ideas and words, you always sing the most beautiful song in my ears, just for me to listen to.
[more symbols/signs: water, emotions, rain/rainy day, wind, sound, dreamcatcher, weather vane, bells, air signs; possible strong mental/5d connection; could be a soulmate (romantic or platonic), also a colleague or family member/ancestor or your partner's higher self]
song: every breath you take | denmark + winter
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pile 3
I love you because amidst all of the chaos, there you were and still are. I love you cause you always wear a smile and try to keep your joy with you, and share it around. I love you cause of your sweet tender habit to dance and turn around everytime you're happy. I love you for all the beauty you bring with you, even if you cannot see it. I love your regal side and your cute side. I love all the different people you are, especially your curios self, never ceasing to learn more of what's around you (please keep yourself safe). I love how you can lose yourself daydreaming about love and what's next for you, but also how you are so easy to distract... Maybe you should focus more, yes, but who cares? I like to distract you too cause when you notice you always get so pouty and offended with me and that's so very cute. Please try to let go of the past, trust yourself. I know you hurt still, but better things will come and you know it too. Don't let the anxiety/worries take over you, stay confident and trust that all will be great. I will also help you make it so.
[more signs/symbols: crowds, -long time- friend/s, studying together, raincoat, jeans, flirting; feels a classmate or friend -maybe a group of friends-, possibly someone crushing on you; young energy but especially from you here so the person/people could be "older" for some of you]
song: golden hour | jvke
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pile 4
I love you because that's what I was born for. I love you cause that's my duty, to care for you and protect you. But I also love you because you resemble me: you're determined, confident and you work for your dreams. You don't let anything or anyone bring you down and even if you don't feel this way now, I know you have it inside of you. You just need to believe again in all that you really are, you just need to remember who you really are. Let me in, let me help you remember it all. Let me help you give you your power back. We can have it all again, together. Don't let the demons you have learned to live with, govern you: you're the one in charge of putting them back to their place. You're the one able to give yourself all that you want, love included. Take care of you, give yourself breaks and get ready: a lot is in store for us. I'm sorry you have/had to wait so much. Please forgive me.
[more symbols/signs: vinyl, music, nostalgia, dancing, gala, Europe, dresses, castle, deep heart connection; possible past life connection (around 1700-1800 centuries; kingdoms); power couple; possible ex/situationship that now is on hold or future partner/spouse, guides/ancestors/departed pet or higher self; in all honesty the first message I got is the last line I wrote. Much more than the reasons they love you for, they wanted you to know how much they long for you now]
song: in the name of love | bebe rexha, martin garrix
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revasserium · 3 months
Note
A request for Zayne with the prompt, "a note on public health" 🙏🫶☺️
send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
32. a note on public health
zayne; 1,519 words; fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", zayne!branded humor, vague innuendos, established relationship
summary: a couple of public service announcements.
a/n: zayne cares much about your health ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
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001. sleep
For optimal health, one should get eight to ten hours of sleep per night.
You try to stifle a yawn as Zayne glances over the day’s news, projected onto the smooth white tabletop. He looks up, eyes narrowing as you freeze halfway through, attempting to mask the motion with a soft cough.
You reach for your half-finished coffee but Zayne tugs it away with a soft sigh.
“Didn’t sleep well last night?”
You purse your lips, averting your eyes as you reach for a slice of toast, tugging off a corner and stuffing it in your mouth.
“Would’ve slept better if someone hadn’t kept me up past my bedtime.”
This time, it’s Zayne who looks away, coughing as he sips at his own coffee.
“I made sure we finished at a reasonable hour.”
You jerk upright, eyes wide, mouth dropping open, a hot flush working its way into your cheeks. You wonder how he can keep such a straight face, how he looks so fundamentally unbothered. But then, he lets out a light chuckle.
“But you’re right — they say it’s not good to have strenuous exercise right before bed. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Zayne!” you toss a crumpled bit of napkin at him, your heartbeat pounding at the back of your throat.
Zayne’s eyebrow flicks upward as he picks up the piece of tissue and gently lobs it into the trash can next to the kitchen counter before going back to this breakfast, the faintest hint of a smile shadowing his lips.
002. water
Adults over 19 should drink 1.5 to 2 liters of water a day for optimal health.
“Hello? What is it?”
“Hi! Uhm… where are you? I don’t — I don’t see you.”
“I’m… at home.”
“What? But… the app says you’ve arrived…”
Zayne sighs, “Did you dial the wrong number? This is Zayne.”
“…Oh! Oops.”
“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”
You hiccup, and he can almost see you shaking your head the way you do when you want to deny something you’d obviously been doing. He pushes up from the sofa, grabbing his coat.
“Not… not a lot — Tara just wanted to celebrate since —“ you hiccup again, “since it’s her first promotion, y’know?”
Zayne hums, “Mhm. Where are you?”
“No, no! It’s okay! I called a cab —“
“Cancel it. I’ll come get you.”
“But…”
“Cancel it. And send me your location.”
Thirteen minutes later, you’re climbing into the passenger seat of Zayne’s car with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t be. Here.”
You blink down at the bottle of water Zayne is pressing into your lap.
“Oh… thanks, but I had a lot of water at the bar!” You turn to flash him a bright, proud smile, “See? I do listen to you!”
Zayne laughs as he pulls into a stop light, glancing over at you, the bottle of water cradled between your hands.
“Yes, and I suppose you’re very proud of yourself this time?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that lets you know he’s not mad. Still, you scowl.
“Shouldn’t you be proud that your patient is getting better at taking care of herself?”
Zayne sighs, reaching over the tug the bottle from your hands before unscrewing the cap and handing it back to you.
“Drink.”
You look like you’re about to argue for a split second before you catch the sharp look in his eye and bring the bottle up to your lips for a long drink. Zayne allows himself a satisfied smile as he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze.
“Good. Good girl.”
003. sun
To maintain healthy blood levels, aim to get 10 - 30 minutes of midday sun, several days a week.
“It’s been raining for forever…”
Zayne looks up from the patient chart propped up in his lap.
You’re sprawled across the sofa on the other side of the room, staring at the bleary, rain-streaked windows with a dull, world-weary expression. Zayne’s eyes flick toward the window for a second before sliding up to the large clock above his door.
It’s three minutes till the end of the day, and he’d agreed you could wait for him in his office while he finished up.
“It has.” He drops his eyes back down to the chart in his hands. The patient is doing well — all things considered. He should keep them for another night of study before signing off to let him go home. Zayne punches in the quick note in for his nurses before setting the chart down.
“Weather forecast says it’s gonna rain all through the weekend too.”
“Hm.” Zayne gets up, rolling his shoulders loose of the knots that had gathered there before rounding his desk, “Come on then.”
“Oh! Are you done? Are we… going to get dinner?” You jump up from the sofa, seemingly revived, a smile on your face. Zayne regards you for a moment before turning.
“Not yet.”
“Not… yet?” you trail after him as he shrugs on his coat and locks his office door.
He can feel your curiosity bubbling for the entire walk to his car through the vast parking garage. He allows himself a smile as you slide in and look at him expectantly. For a second, he toys with the idea of not telling you, of seeing just how long you can hold out before you start to pester him.
“You’ll see,” he says, just as you open your mouth to ask.
“So… it’s a surprise?” you ask.
He shrugs, pulling out of the parking space and cresting through the dimly lit parking structure till he turns onto the bustling city street.
“I suppose it will be.”
“Did you… plan this?” he can hear the hopefulness in your voice, the giddiness sparkling there like soda fizz.
“No, but did you say I should try to be more spontaneous sometimes?”
“Sure but…” he can hear you pouting, “well, fine, if you really don’t want to tell me.”
He keeps quiet just to savor in the silence, in the knowledge that you are here with him, and so, so eager to know what he has planned for you. He wonders if it’s cruel to enjoy this, to love the way you’re so reactive, to love… everything about you.
You blink as he pulls into a darkened road, wide as it is, to the clearly gated Botanical Gardens. Your confusion only grows as the night guard there gives him a cheery wave before punching a button and the giant gates hiss open to allow you both entry.
“Thanks,” Zayne says, lifting a hand as the night guard waves them through with a bright smile.
He casts you a single glance before chuckling, “His daughter was a patient of mine a while back — she had a genetic cardiac condition that — well,” Zayne breaks off as he parks the car in the first space and opens the door.
“Regardless, she needed surgery. It was risky but… we managed to save her.”
He leads you down the winding path to one of the smaller greenhouses, lit up so brightly from the inside that you have to squint your eyes as he punches in an access code and lets you both through the door.
The wall of heat that greets you both nearly knocks you off your feet but a moment later, you smile as the warmth seeps into your skin, and you turn your face up towards the high ceilings, speckled with what you’re certain are tiny little sunlamps, beaming down at the arid landscape below.
“Are these… cacti?” you wonder aloud, shuffling over to a large, bulbous plant with long thin spikes.
“Yes, these are the desert plants. They need prolonged exposure to sunlight to live.”
“Oh…” you bend down to read the short description of the cacti before moving onto the next one, and then the next one. Zayne trails behind you, watching with a soft smile and softer eyes as you point out the tiny little yellow flowers budding on one, and the strange shapes of another.
“Not that this isn’t fun and all but…” you turn to him as you finally return to the front of the greenhouse, having seen all the different varieties of desert plants in this particular area, “why’d you bring me here?”
Zayne holds open the door for you.
“You looked like you were missing the sun.”
Even beneath the barely there lighting of the parking lot, Zayne sees your blush darkening your cheeks.
“I — I guess I was,” you say as you slip once more into the passenger seat of his car, looking over at him, “but… weren’t you missing it too?”
Zayne’s grin skews as he tugs on his seatbelt, but he schools his expression back into its usual mask of stoicism as he answers, “No. I’ve already got you.”
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pseudowho · 5 months
Text
Hiromi Higuruma Relationship HCs
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(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)
For our other favourite tuckered-out hardworking man of JJK...
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- First of all, this man knows he's intense. Whether he's tired of life, or fighting for someone's life, he worries he's just going to cause a partner stress, so he generally avoids relationships. -Not that he doesn't want a relationship, he does; but he knows he wants someone smart, someone who can see the dark comedy of life, and someone who can argue. - Because let's face it - Hiromi Higuruma will argue with anyone about anything He needs someone to share his burning passion; it doesn't have to be about the same thing. - He feels like his standards are unrealistically high, and he won't make these demands of someone, he needs it to happen organically.
✨ and then Hiromi Higuruma finds you ✨
- You're in front of him in the line at the bar, having a fight with the guy in front of you, who was rude to the girl on the tills - And you just roast this guy - Hiromi's having the time of his life, he only wanted a beer but now he's getting a whole show - This guy crawls off, having been used to mop the floor, and you just shake it off, leaning over the bar to apologise to the girl on the tills, and order your drink - Higuruma leans past you; "I'll get hers" - You look at him, and he holds his hands up placatingly; "With no expectation," he says, "nice work with that arsehole. Have one on me." - So obviously, you talk all night - The bar staff come over in the small hours and hoik you out, because you're still talking; Higuruma is smitten- you're witty, dry, bright and immediately happy to talk about bigger things, and he feels so alive - You go out, and it's freezing, and Hiromi feels awkward and guilty for keeping you out so late - Gives you his jacket to keep you warm while he gets you home safely - Sad to leave you at your door, doesn't think to ask you for your number, because he just doesn't see someone seeing him that way until--
- "All that, and you don't even ask me for my number?"
- He stutters - No Higuruma left, brain gone walkies - You tap your number into his phone, doing the drop-call in case Higuruma doesn't
✨ You fall first, but Higuruma falls harder
- To save himself from disappointment, Higuruma insists to himself through so many coffee dates and dinners, trips to museums and galleries, and long walks in the park, that you're just friends - He's so used to crushing disappointment at work, he can't take it from you too - Until one day as you're raging against the machine to him, the love hits him like a bus - You're just waiting for the train to arrive together - And he leans in and kisses you, so softly but so convicted - The train whooshes into the station, rushing you both with warm air, but you're so lost in each other, one of his hands on your waist now to bring you closer while yours tangles in his hair to pull his lips harder to yours, because - Finally - You thought he'd never make a move
✨ After this, you're inseparable; as far as Higuruma is concerned, the hardest part (working out if you're in love) is done. He's absolutely decided you're the one, so that's settled, the man knows his own damn mind
- And he treats you like a man who knows what he wants - He's totally committed, but not showy - This man absolutely has your back, through thick and thin - Will fight your fights for you, but knows he doesn't have to - You read together, a lot. He massages your feet on his lap while you counsel him through the difficulties of another tricky case. You take long baths, working through at least one bottle of wine together, and his foot creeps past you to turn the hot tap on again because he's not ready to get out yet. - Higuruma takes it as a personal insult when you're sad, or upset, or have had a bad day, and curses the cruel world you live in for upsetting you...while throwing blankets over you, making you tea, making sure the house is tidy - Making you happy is his pride and duty - But if you do argue, it absolutely must be resolved. This man will not tolerate silent treatments or going to bed unhappy with each other, anything that can be talked through will be talked through - Absolutely loves quietly ragging on strangers with you, this man gets life from the absurd comedy of people-watching bad or stupid people - Always the first to put the kettle on if you have tea to spill - His bad days are bad, and sometimes his anger at the world seems so great, he must surely be angry at you too - But you stay patient, reassuring, a lighthouse in his darkness and God does he adore you for it - Once this man has decided to commit to you, there is no changing his mind, you've got to ride this one your whole life now
✨ NSFW ✨
- Fairly tall, slim, average guy build. The kind of soft abs of a guy who works like a racehorse - Secretly packing - His big dick energy in Court translates across - His breakdown in his 30s makes him pretty unashamed to tell you what he wants and give you what you want in the bedroom - Views it as an absolute personal failing if he doesn't make you cum at least twice - I mean come on, there's enough injustice in the world without bad sex - Loves it when you ride him after a long day at work, but he'll get mean if he thinks you're slacking - "*sigh* I know you fuck as well as you fight, so is that what you want? A fight?" - Full of praise when you bounce that pussy up and down his cock, stroking your hips and clit, determined you should share your pleasure - Also, sneak into his office at the courts, I dare you - Mother Justice looking down on you with her scales as you take his beautiful cock into your mouth while Higuruma moans without shame; or, the Newton's Cradle on his desk clattering as Higuruma bends you over, absolutely railing you with a wild look in his eyes, holding his black hair out of his eyes with one hand while he squeezes your arse with another, secretly hoping his colleagues are drinking in your squeaks and whimpers outside the door
(they are and they're so pleased) (Higuruma has looked stressed out lately) (maybe a good fuck will cheer him up)
- When he has had a very bad day prepare to be outrageously overstimulated by him, his lips and tongue and that nose working on your clit over and over while you cry and reach out for purchase on anything while you cum over and over, tears dripping back into your hair - "Can't do it? Nonsense. Hold onto the headboard. I won't be done for a while."
Overall, 10/10, husband material if you can weather those storms.
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coqvttes · 7 months
Text
୨୧― KINKTOBER: ❝DOLLED UP!❞ ― CARLOS O.
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― ꒰ CORRUPTION ✰ KINKTOBER M.LIST ꒱ ―
୨୧˚ synopsis: after making you wait nearly two months to lose your virginity, you surprise him in lingerie that you know he can't resist corrupting you in.
୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw 16+ only, virginity loss, lingerie, p in v, petnames, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!carlos, creampie, teasing, fingering, spitting, some aftercare, lmk if i forgot anything!
୨୧˚ wc: 2k (my bad lol this is not proof-read)
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its been nearly two months since you've been with carlos. everything has been wonderful, but the only problem is that you're a virgin, and he still hasn't fucked you yet. you know he is the one, but you just can't bring yourself to ask him properly. you've hinted at him, but he brushes it off. he just doesn't want to make you feel like he's forcing it on you because you're not ready. being faint-hearted didn't help either; you were too shy to ask him, and you've had to make do with what he'd give you. lingering touches, messy kisses, and filthy words that all but led to nothing. he'd claim it was too early or that you weren't ready yet, and you'd just nod, too meek to protest.
but now, you don't think you can wait any longer as you plop down on your bed, your eyes boring into the ceiling. you turn your head to the side, and your gaze averts to the pretty white lacey lingerie set sitting on your duvet that you had bought just for carlos. a little surprise for him. but you'd never had the chance to wear it for him because you weren't ready? well, now you are, so you pick up your phone to dial his number, and he picks up after a couple rings.
"carlossss, can you over? pleeeease?" you whine, lying on your tummy on your soft bed. you kick your feet up on the bed as you plead with him. you can hear his smile as he speaks.
"sure, baby, what's up?" you heart aches as you hear his gruff voice from the other side of the phone. gosh, you're so needy, you start to feel wet from just hearing him.
"mmm, nothing, just miss you and i wanna show you something.." you know, if you tell him your true intentions, he'll probably protest.
"show me something, huh? you’re so cute. what have you been up to too, hm, princess?" he teases, completely oblivious to your little surprise waiting for him. you let out a soft, mischievous giggle.
"it's a surprise! you have to come over to see ittt."
"alright alright, i'll see you in 30? try not to miss me too much, hm? i know it's hard," he chuckles, and you can't help but grin and roll your eyes.
"don't be too long."
— ୨୧ —
it's been around 20 minutes, and you're all dolled up in the set, kneeling on the bed, anxiously waiting for him. your eyes are trained on the doorway, excitement coursing through your body. you wonder how he'll react and what he'll say. you're snapped out of your thoughts as you hear the front door open, and you recognize his heavy footsteps as he makes his way to your bedroom.
as the door swings open, his breath hitches, and he freezes at the doorway of the bedroom, gawking at you as you sit prettily in the middle of the bed. there you were. dolled up in a gorgeous white lacey set, barely covering anything, and you just looked so adorable in it.
“fuck, baby—“ he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence as he stares at your tits that are practically spilling out of the skimpy bra you wear. your innocent doe eyes gazing right back into his own, nervously.
“do you like it?" your voice is quiet and meek; his heart melts at your question, and he can’t even find the right words to say. you reach out a hand to him, desperate to be close to him, and he finds himself moving closer to you instinctively.
“i love it, baby. i love you,” he says, walking closer until he stands at the foot of the bed. he takes your hand and pulls you close. leaning down, he presses his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. you moan into his mouth, your other hand moving up to grasp his hair. kissing carlos always leaves you breathless. the way his lips capture yours just perfectly, the way his stubble tickles your soft face, and the way his hand slides up to cup your cheek tenderly. he pulls away from you with a smile on his face.
“i’m ready, carlos, wan’ you to make love to me." you whisper. his breath hitches at your words, and suddenly you're helping him tug his cargos down. he pulls his compression shirt over his head and drops it onto the bedroom floor. the matress dips slightly with the weight of him as he rests one knee on the bed. carlos then reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, and he slips it off of you. a shy blush adorns your face as you reveal yourself to him for the first time. he lowers his head to press gentle kisses over your tits, and you both moan in unison when his warm tongue glides over your sensitive bud. your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing him into your chest desperately.
"you're so beautiful," he says, leaning up to kiss you once more.
he grins against your lips as his hand slowly slides up your inner thigh. he then toys with the band of your lacy panties before sliding them to the side. he backs up and lowers himself on the bed so you can feel his hot breath on your glistening cunt. he leans in, and you think he's going to kiss your heat, but instead, he spits on it! bringing his rough palm to cup your wet cunt, you let out a pathetic whimper. you must be so needy for him, he thinks. he gathers up your arousal before pushing his middle and ring fingers inside you, groaning at how wet your cunt is. you feel yourself instantly weaken as his fingers enter you. from all the sensitivity that had been building up, your back arches off the bed, your head falling back into the pillows. a grin adorns his features, and as he watches your every reaction, he curls his thick fingers inside of your cunt before pumping them in and out of you in a slow rhythm, hitting the spot inside of you that makes your vision blur and your jaw hang open.
"mmm! faster!" you whine, writhing in the sheets, desperate for release.
"say please, princess."
"please!" you plead, glossy eyes gazing down at him. how could he deny you when you begged him like that? his calloused thumb gently rubs at your bud in circular motions, further stimulating you, and you feel your release wash over you in an instant, your thighs trembling violently as you mewl out his name. as you come down from your high you catch him staring at you in awe.
gosh, he's not even sure if you're really that innocent with the way you’re testing his patience right now. he's trying his hardest not to pin you down and fuck you completely dumb with the way your finger rests on your plump bottom lip. the way you rub your legs together. and the way you give him those pretty "fuck me" eyes. maybe its because you've been needing him for so long. depraved of his touch. but it doesn't matter because he loves it. and he's going to show you just how much he does.
and before you know it, he’s nudging the tip of his throbbing dick against your overstimulated, slick entrance. your mouth drops open slightly when you gasp at the stretch as he pushes his length inside your warmth. struggling cunt barely being able to swallow all of him as your grip on his muscular bicep tightens and your brows furrow. he sinks his entire length in with a low groan and notices your discomfort before he coos.
"shit, baby, it will feel good soon, i promise." you nod and he starts building up a good pace, pushing himself in and out of you sensually, grinding against your clit a few times to make you feel good.
he lifts your legs for you with his palm resting on the underside of your thighs for a better angle. the pleasure begins to replace the harsh sting of the stretch, and you try to suppress your needy moans by covering your mouth with your palm. but carlos has none of it, and he pulls away your arm, pinning it next to your head.
"let me hear you, doll."
he then makes it his mission to draw out all of your gorgeous noises by pounding into you faster and harder. as he picks up the pace, you can't bring yourself to be quiet anymore, and soon soft whimpers and mewls spill from your lips, and he swears he's never heard prettier sounds. his gaze is now fixated on the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in. what a lewd sight.
"is it too rough, sweetheart?" he asks, as he quickly remembers that this is indeed your first time, not wanting to go too hard on you because he knows it must hurt. you shake your head and slide your hand up to his cheek.
"i-i like it-" you interrupt yourself with a moan as you feel him hit a particular spot inside you that has your mind going numb. wanton moans spill from your pretty lips as his hips snap against yours; the sweat rolling down his abs makes him look like a god right now, and you just want to kiss him so badly.
"kiss me," you whimper, hands clinging to his broad shoulders for support. your needy lips beg to feel his as he lets out a soft chuckle before leaning down to press his lips to yours. he pours his passion out for you into the kiss, and you whimper into his mouth, tongues clashing against each other. when he pulls away, you find yourself breathless and your lips swollen. he continues to thrust into you, and your hands move up to grope on your soft tits, pinching and tugging at your sensitive nipples. he nearly cums at the sight and replaces your hands with one of his own, further stimulating you as you start to feel overwhelmed by the pressure in your core.
"fuck, just like that, doll," he moans, feeling his release nearing as well. your wet heat clenches around him so perfectly that the momentary feeling causes a lapse in judgement, and he whispers in the heat of the moment.
“fuck, baby, shoulda fucked you sooner. gonna ruin you so bad, doll."
as if your body responds naturally to him, your mind goes blank, and your moans grow high-pitched as you feel the entire force of your release wash over you completely. he releases his grip on your thighs, and your legs close around his waist, pulling him flush against you, keeping him close as he releases inside of you, letting out a guttural moan. he drops his head to your shoulder and litters your collarbone with gentle kisses in contrast to his rough thrusts earlier.
"didn't go too hard on ya did i? how do you feel, hm? i know i'm good," he teases, pulling out of you slowly. wow, even after fucking your brains out, he remains cocky. but you love it and you shake your head at his words.
"thank you," you breathe out. he smiles as he's reaching for his briefs before pulling them on. he caresses your cheek tenderly.
"you don't need to thank me, gorgeous," he chuckles lightly before dissappearing into the bathroom and returning to you with a cloth.
"mm i love youuu," you say as he begins to clean you up, slipping off your panties and wiping you down with the slightly damp cloth.
"love you too, pretty girl," he says before snatching your slick-covered panties from the duvet and stuffing them in his pocket.
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‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ all works belong to © coqvettes 2023. i do not give permission to claim, translate or copy any of my works. reblogs are appreciated!
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rainsoakedphoenix · 6 months
Text
baby, it's cold outside
pairing: f!reader x colby brock
wc: 678
summary: colby sees you outside with no jacket so he offers you his
requested?/notes: nope! - during my lil break i became a passing fan of sam and colby and a few nights ago came up with a lil idea for a colby fic, here it is
you walked out into the cold night, immediately regretting not bringing a coat with you to your friends' house as you gently shut the front door behind you.
another friend of yours, sitting on the porch, snaps his head in your direction as the door clicks, and he nods his head at you with a "hey."
as you return the greeting, you see another head turn to you in your peripheral vision, and you quickly pick out colby's voice. "where's your jacket?"
"it was warm today, i didn't think i'd need it." you turned your attention to him, trying your hardest not to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth.
"well, here." he stands up, taking one of his jackets off and passing it to you. "take this. it's freezing out here and it just started sprinkling a few minutes ago."
"i'm just going to grab something from my car real quick," you say, trying not to smile up at your best friend.
"take it," he replies a bit more firmly this time, but the look in his eyes held nothing but concern.
with a short sigh and a smirk, you reach for the fabric, pulling it over your head.
"stubborn ass," he mumbles with a smile, causing you to roll your eyes with a sarcastic huff and a small smile of your own.
"yeah, thanks for the jacket." you hear the sounds of yours and colby's mutual friends "ooh"ing and saying his name as you walk away.
you quickly make your way to your car, already feeling the effects of being outside longer than you had originally planned. after grabbing what you needed and heading back up to the porch, you begin to take his jacket off to hand it back to him.
"put it back on."
you pause, looking between colby and his other best friend sam in confusion.
"you can give it back when one of us leaves," colby clarifies, and you couldn't quite decipher the look on his face. you roll your eyes with a smile for the second time that night, putting your arm back into the material.
"so bossy." you open the front door once more, shutting it behind you as you take your spot back on the couch, smiling to yourself as you curl into the cloth hugging your body.
"what are you smiling for?" your friend looks over at you, excitement laced in her voice.
"i'll tell you later," you say as you look over at her and then back at the screen in front of you. you're sure she's already realized you left the building without a jacket and came back in minutes later wearing one, and you're also sure she's recognized whose it is, but she doesn't question you further.
a few short hours later, you click the remote at the tv to shut it off, deciding you were going to head home for the night. you say your goodbyes to your friend, who was standing up from the couch to head to bed, before heading out into the cold to give colby his jacket back.
you're shocked when you only notice one of your friends sitting out on the porch. "where's colby? i have to give him his hoodie back. and why are you still out here? it's cold."
"he and sam left like an hour ago, where have you been?"
"inside, where it's warm." you realized he didn't answer your second question, but you were more concerned about hurrying to your car - and that colby had left without getting his hoodie back.
your friend laughed at your response, waggling his eyebrows at you before saying "you have his number."
"don't start that shit with me." you pointed your finger at him, trying not to laugh yourself as he raised his hands in mock surrender. you turn towards the opening of the porch then, beginning to walk down to your car.
"go get him, girl!"
"shut up."
you decided you'd call colby about his jacket tomorrow. right now, you had a warm bed to get to.
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indigosunsetao3 · 21 days
Text
The Car
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Warnings: Jealousy, Manipulation (from both parties), Smut, Oral Sex
Second expansion of the Ex Husband Price list.
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"No no no," you groan as you car splutters on the road. You knew something felt off when you had pulled out of the garage at work but decided to risk it anyway. You had recently started a new job, finally able to find a company that was willing to take a risk on you after such a long time away from the work force. Eager to show your enthusiasm for the job you worked late all week, even this Friday evening.
"Shit," you sigh as the car bucks in protest and you pull over to the very narrow shoulder. It's whining and idling so low you know it's going to stall out and before you can even throw the hazards on it does just that. It had done this before and you never got a solid answer from John what the issue was. He threw a whole bunch of lingo at you explaining but he knew it would go over your head.
You give the car a few seconds rest before trying to the key to start it again. The car stutters, engine squealing as it tries to turn over but it doesn't get there. You wait and try again, same result. One more time and you let out a yell of frustration and throw the keys into the passenger seat. It's nearly ten at night, on a Friday. You couldn't just leave your car here but a tow was out of your budget, and actually going to the shop to fix it was out of the question.
There's only one other option and it eats you from the inside as you stare at his number in your phone.
"John," you say when he finally picks up. It had rung so long you were sure it was going to go to voicemail. He doesn't say anything but you know he is listening. "My car's dead," you explain with a irritated sigh. "I was leaving work and it did that weird bucking thing and I think I saw smoke," you explain, eyes darting to the road as another car flies by. "You we're able to fix it last time and I just thought you could tell me-" you don't finish before he cuts you off.
"Call a tow," John replies flatly and you hear something rattling; glasses. "I'm busy," he continues and then you hear someone talking in the background. A man but you also hear a woman's lilting laugh a second later. That makes you freeze.
"You know what," you snap, jerkily removing your seatbelt and going for the door. "I'll figure it out myself," you climb out and slam the car door shut. Another car races by and the loud roar of the engine makes you wince as your jam the phone between your shoulder and ear as your fingers scramble to find the hood latch. "Have a nice evening with your friends."
"Get back in the car," John snaps, obviously having heard you climb out and the cars going by. "Where are you?"
"Doesn't matter, you're busy," you answer back finally finding the latch. You let the phone slide down and you grab it with your hand as you wrench the hood above your head and look for the support piece to hold it in place. "I'm sure someone will pull over to help." And you hang up.
He calls back four times but you ignore him as you stare at the engine. You have no idea what you are looking at and when you reach for something familiar the heat wafting from it makes you flinch back. Then, because England lives for being dramatic, it starts to rain. The water fizzles as it hits the hot engine and you huff, moving to let the hood fall with a loud bang again not sure if it was wise to let the engine drenched.
Stomping around to the drivers side door you stare at the phone as John starts sending texts before calling again and you finally pickup.
"Figure it out, sweetheart?" John asks sarcastically. You can hear music in the background and you do your best to not let your ears strain to see if you can hear that woman again.
"I'm calling a tow," you answer simply as you smooth your hair back off your face. "Maybe they'll actually fix it properly this time," you snipe. He had been the one to 'fix' it last time.
"Where are you?" He asks ignoring your jab.
You sigh before giving him the road you're on and lean back into the seat. He says he'll be there in thirty, he has to drop someone off at home first. You don't ask who that person is, though you feel a squirm in your stomach at the thought if it was that woman. Maybe a date that you interrupted. If you hadn't been so exhausted after a long week you probably wouldn't have even called him. The instinct to reach out to him when something went wrong was still too strong and it irked you that he was still your safe space.
Lights flare in your rearview mirror as John pulls up in his truck, flashing them once to let you know it's him. The rain is coming down in a proper downpour now and you snatch up your purse and dart out into it. You twist to lock your car over your shoulder, the battery is functional at least. When you pull the door open you have to pull yourself up, the stupid thing so tall that John used to help you in it whenever you two would take it out.
"Don't," you say as he looks at you and opens his mouth. You're shivering and you wrap your arms around yourself as he throws on his signal to pull back into traffic. "I'll call a tow for it in the morning," you state as you watch the dark form of your car in the mirror disappear into dark. "Maybe I just need a new one. I don't want something unreliable." Not that you could afford a new car by any means.
"I'll look at it first," John states as he leans over and turns the heat up a bit. "Probably just the fuel injector again," he mutters, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything else for the rest of the ride and you don't fill the silence either. You're exhausted, cold and frustrated with yourself and the whole situation. Especially the jealousy burning in your chest as you catch sight of a lipstick covered straw on a fast food cup in the cupholder. He catches you looking at it and smirks as you quickly advert your eyes back out the window.
"You can stay on the couch," you offer looking at the radio clock as he pulls into your driveway. It's almost midnight and you know his apartment is across town, "if you want." You tack on before climbing out and wobbling on your heels on the driveway. It's the least you could do for him taking pity and coming to get you, plus if he's here he's not with the woman wearing shocking pink lipstick.
"Gaz is going to meet me in the morning," he offers as he kicks his shoes off at the door while texting on his phone. "See if we can fix it."
"Right," you answer, not turning around to look at him as your climb the stairs. "You know where the blankets are."
"You're welcome," John calls up the stairs, to which you answer with a snap of your bedroom door. You flick the lock for good measure even if the cheap doorhandle would never keep John Price out if he was determined.
Rest is fitful. You wake up multiple times and stare at the ceiling thinking about the fact John is downstairs. How long had it been since you had spent a night together, even if it was in different rooms? Months. You nearly crack and go down to check at him a three am. Telling yourself you just wanted to make sure he was comfortable, but when you open the bedroom door his resounding snores tell you he's just fine, ruining your pathetic excuse.
When you wake next it's nearly nine in the morning and you quickly hop out of bed. You can hear music coming from outside and you peer out the window to see John in the driveway, bent over tinkering over your car engine. He must have been up early to have already gone out, managed to get it running, get it back here and Gaz already be gone.
Not sure what to do with yourself you keep busy in the house, willing yourself to not look out and stare at him. When you brought him out a bottle of water and some crisps he's humming along to the music, a smirk on his lips as he works. He glances at you as you watch over his shoulder, doing your best to look at what he's doing and not the back of his actual shoulder where the muscles are rippling under the skin as he loosens a few bolts.
"Need something?" He asks as you stand there uselessly for another few minutes. "I'm almost done if that's what you're here for," he tacks on as he stands up and wipes his face with the bottom of his shirt.
For fucks sake. You bite the inside of your cheek at the glimpse of his stomach, the sweat that is shining there and the matted hair that trails deliciously down to the waistband of his pants. He lets his shirt fall before chugging the water as he looks at you waiting for an answer.
"I've got a few errands to run today," you cover quickly. "Is this going to be working properly when you're done with it? Only, I don't want to get stranded again," you state, doing your best to sound annoyed and not impossibly distracted by him standing there.
"It'll be fine," John answers, "you need to keep up the maintenance on it. The oil was sludge," he admonishes as he toes the waste can. "When was the last time you actually took it in for a tune up?"
"That was your job," you answer with a small shrug. "Didn't cross my mind. Just another thing to add to my to do list until I find someone else to do it for me." You turn heel and you know he's glaring at your back.
You spend the rest of your time burning off the nervous energy cleaning the house. When you drag the overflowing trash out to the bin you spot the fast food cup from the night before sitting in there. The bright pink lipstick glaring in the sunlight and you reach in to grab the cup to look at it, pausing when you realize how ridiculous that is before dumping the rest of the trash over it. When the lid slams shut you look over to see John staring at you with a shit-eating grin. He knows you had saw it, as if he had planned it.
Sometime later you hear him come in and find him washing his hands in the sink. He's covered in dirt, grease and sweat. You lean on the door jam watching him for a bit, watching him attempt to suds off the dirt with one of your flowery hand soaps.
"Just go shower," you state after a second as he leans down to rinse his arms up to his elbows. "You're making a mess of my kitchen," you state, tilting your head at the puddles of dirty water that he's dripped all over the sink and floor.
"I'll be out in a few," John states as he brushes past you. "Car should be all set by the way. Fully tuned up and running perfectly," he turns to walk backwards for a second, "you'll still need to get an oil change in six months though."
"I'll be sure to let the next person know. Six months should be plenty of time to find someone else to do it," you smirk as you see his shoulders tense as he rounds the stairs. You wipe up the kitchen and realize he doesn't have a towel and you'll be damned if he gets oil all over your nice ones.
Darting up the stairs you pause at the linen closet to grab an old ratty towel before knocking on the ensuite. The shower is running and you're about to crack the door open and throw the towel in for him when he calls for you to come in. You twist the door handle and push the door open to find him standing there in just his pants, hands in the midst of undoing his zipper.
"Forgot to give you a towel," you state, holding it up to him. He nods his head to the side to indicate for you to just set it on the counter. Then he undoes his zipper fully and steps out of his pants in a swift movement. He acts as if this were normal, that you were still married and he was just getting in the shower after a long day.
"John!" You snap as you drop your gaze to the floor quickly and twist your head a bit.
"Never knew you to be shy," John answers simply as he bends down and grabs his pants and folds them on the counter. He's going deliberately slow and you dart your eyes up to look at him. He's watching you like a hawk and you swallow as you take in the sight of him in the rapidly steaming bathroom. "Get out then if you're that upset about it," he teases as you let your eyes roam over him. He holds perfectly still, letting you drink him in knowing that you're struggling. "Or join me," he tacks on with an eyebrow quirk. "Saw you watching me all morning," he smirks. "Don't lie," he says quickly as you open your mouth to fight him on that.
"Get in the shower," you breathe out as you move to leave. "I don't want to see the lipstick on your cock from your girlfriend last night." There was that jealousy you had been trying to fight for hours. You hadn't seen anything, but you had certainly looked for the evidence despite yourself. His hand grabs your wrist swiftly and tugs you back toward him.
"I cleaned that off already," he taunts pulling you closer to him. "You jealous, sweetheart?" He tilts his head to the side a bit as you twist your wrist to pull back, it's a false attempt and you both know it.
"You're free to do whatever you want," you answer, eyes flicking up to his face. "Does she know you went to your ex wife's rescue?" You see his eyes narrow at the word ex-wife and you do your best to squash the glee you get at his anger of the term. "And you stayed in her house?"
"She's not worried about it," John answers and he knows he's hit a sore spot, but he keeps needling. "I told her exactly where I was going and she just told me to be careful." He's confirming your worst fear and the sudden jerk of your arm breaks his grip on you.
"Wash up and get out," you snap and turn to leave but you barely make it to the door before he grabs you around the waist to pull you back. He's chuckling and you thrash seeing red.
"She doesn't care if I'm with my wife," he states, either purposely or slip of the tongue forgetting the ex part. "Because she's Johnny's bird. I had them over the apartment last night," he nips your ear as your still in his arms. "Now who's a jealous arsehole?" Something you had accused him of so many times.
"You lied," you gasp out, the fight dying in you as you piece everything together. He nuzzles the side of your neck and kisses your pounding pulse. You don't fight him as his hands roughly untucks your shirt from your sinfully short pajama shorts.
"I never said a word, you made your own assumptions," he admonishes as his hands find your now bare breasts and kneads them roughly. "Turn about is fair play," he grinds out as you arch up off him as he pinches your nipples. You know he's referring to what you had done last time he had been around, taunting him about your ex.
"You let me make them on purpose," you whine as one hand slides down your stomach toward the hem of your shorts.
"So what if I did?" He asks as his fingers toy with the elastic of your underwear. "I like getting you all worked up. Watch you squirm a bit," he palms your center through the thin cotton material and you attempt to grind down on his hand but he pulls back a fraction of an inch. "Get you needy for me," his fingers brush down the v of your bikini line, "remind you that you did this to yourself." He bites your shoulder as you grab his wrist to force him to touch you but he barely grazes your clit with his finger before pulling away.
"John," you say frustrated as he lets go of you and steps around to get in the shower. "We can't kept doing this. It's just dragging it out."
"I seem to remember it was you calling me last night," he states as he opens the glass shower door and barely steps in. His eye are watching you, a commanding look on his face as he lifts his hand up to you. He's making you go to him, making you beg him.
You stare at him determined to hold onto some dignity this time. You couldn't be the one to give in twice in a row, even if you had gotten yourself off last night thinking about him to take the edge off to get some sleep. But when the hot water rushes over John's naked form and he curls his fingers in a come-hither motion, you follow obediently.
You strip out of your shorts and underwear and step into the steam of the shower. Before the door even clicks shut he's got you pinned to tile wall, causing you to gasp at the bite of cold on your back. His tongue takes that chance to sweep in and you moan as his fingers finally find your clit and rub gentle circles. He kicks your legs a bit wider so he can run his hand further down you and he roughly pushes a finger in without warning.
"This is something you can't take care of yourself," he says as he pulls back from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. "I heard you last night," he states as he curls his finger, pumping antagonizing slow. "Heard you open the door before retreating again. Then I heard you whimpering my name a few minutes later," he hitches his breath with you, a mockery, as he pushes a second finger in. "Yet here you are, still so needy for me. Can't take that edge off yourself can you?"
You narrow your eyes. You thought you had heard something when you had dug around in the nightstand. Had frozen in your hunt for something, anything, to get yourself off but found your stash depleted. Your toys had slowly been disappearing, or losing charge when you needed them most, over the past few months. You just thought you had just misplaced them in the bathroom or forgot to charge them. But the way John is taunting you, you're suspicious he's the reason you haven't been able to properly get yourself off.
"You sneaky bastard," you pant as he kisses you feverishly a few times before dropping down to his knees before you. You run your hands through his soaked hair as he kisses his way down your stomach, his one hand never stopping its ministrations as his other slides down to the back of your thigh to lift your leg up over his shoulder.
"I would have helped you last night," he replies as he kisses you just a fraction of an inch above where you want him most. "But you're the one who locked the door," he finishes before darting his tongue out to lick a long, wide, stripe over your clit.
You buck up and have to slap one hand on the wall to keep yourself balanced as he begins to lap at you in earnest. The water is scalding against your already heated skin and when you look down you see John's eyes staring up at you. The piercing blue eyes crinkled in the corners because he's smirking at what he's doing to you, at the noises he's getting out of you.
"How many times did you cum last night?" John asks as he picks up the pace with his fingers, pressing his free hand on your lower pelvis to keep you from riding his hands and helping yourself.
"O-once," you shudder, "barely." You admit because damn it you want to get off properly. If his smug attitude at 'winning' this fight meant that would happen, you would you'd take it. "Fuck John," you throw your head back on the wall, feeling it bounce lightly, as he nips at your clit.
"Poor thing," he taunts as he places a chaste kiss where he had just bitten. He twists out of the grip you attempt to get on his hair to pull him to you; he's going to decide when and how you finish. "Impatient, jealous and oh so needy," he spreads you a bit wider before sucking lightly causing you to shake with exertion.
"Stop teasing me," you say frustratedly before yelping as he bites you harder than before. "Please," you tack on knowing he's never one to accept your demanding things.
"Since you asked so nicely," John says before finally giving you what you want. His fingers find that spot in you without hesitation, he knows your body too well, as his tongue abuses your clit. You rock your hips into his face, riding him as he pushes you to that edge. You finally topple over the abyss at a scrape of his teeth and he holds you steady to keep from slipping in the water.
You come down, sinking a few inches on the wall as he unhooks your leg off his shoulder. He's smirking as he pushes up from the ground and you reach for him, more than ready for a second, or third, orgasm but he stops you despite being rock hard himself.
"I've got a meeting," he explains as he grabs a bottle of shampoo absently and begins to quickly wash his hair, using the excess suds to wipe down his skin. "And unlike you, I can finish myself," he smirks as his palms his heavy dick for a second just to taunt you before rinsing off.
You narrow your eyes reach for him again but he grabs your wrist to restrain you. He's serious. He is going to leave you here aching for more. With one last gloating smirk he steps out and grabs one of your nice towels, the raggedy one left forgotten on the counter.
In his haste to clean up he hadn't gotten all the grease off his skin and the remnants are left on your nice fluffy towel. You glare at the mess before attempting to finish the job John had left for you but it doesn't work. It's a ghost of an orgasm that he had given you in the shower.
What John didn't tell you was his meeting was simply paying off Simon for helping him. He had asked him to follow you home from work to make sure you didn't end up in too dangerous of a spot when the car did eventually splutter to a stop. And after John had picked you up Simon fixed the car in a second. He just had to put the fuse back in that John had ripped out earlier that evening.
Once the car was running properly, Simon pulled it safely into the woods for the evening. A task that thankfully didn’t require hot-wiring since John had given him the set of spare keys he had stolen after he fucked you over the couch all those days ago.
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Tag Request: @shadofireshinobi
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lokis-army-77 · 7 months
Text
Pretty Girl and her Hoodie Guy
Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader
Word Count: 2.4k
It was supposed to be a sunny day until it wasn't, but that's okay because maybe love is right around the corner... or the bus stop.
Warning: E for everyone!! This is just really cute and if you don't read it I'll be very mad at yall >:(.
The first part of this is based on some pictures I saw on tiktok but I totally forgot to save it so I could give credit for the idea that it gave me.
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It has rained almost every day in Chicago for nearly a week. So, the one day the weather forecast called for bright sunny skies and nearly eighty-degree weather, you decided to leave your umbrella in your apartment along with your umbrella. 
The bus ride to campus was dry as could be, the weather was perfect and the slight breeze tickled as it made your skirt flutter around your thighs. The walk to class after getting off the bus was also crystal clear, not a single cloud in sight and the sun beat down brightly, you were thankful for the shade of the trees. 
Three hours later, as you exit the English building, you notice it has gotten darker, clouds have begun to roll in. You sigh as you begin walking to the bus stop, hopeful that the weatherman was still correct about having no rain. 
You and the meteorologist were both proven wrong when, halfway to the bus, the bottom fell out. Big, heavy droplets of rain started pouring down out of nowhere, almost instantly soaking you to the bone. 
You begin to run as fast as your bag full of books and laptop will allow. You can only pray that the rain hasn't seeped through your backpack and ruined your things. 
The bus stop is only a couple more feet away and when you make it under the awning you have a breath and set your backpack down on the bench. Today was such a bad day to wear a white shirt. The water had made it nearly see-through. Your white bra practically shining through the thin cotton fabric like a spotlight was on it. 
As you try to squeeze the water out of your clothes you hear a deep cough, like someone clearing their throat. You look up. To your left is a guy, he's tall with shaggy hair and bangs almost covering his eyes. He's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans even though it had been almost eighty-three degrees mere hours ago. Your eyes catch on the glint of piercings in his ears before they wander to the peak of a tattoo showing just above the collar of his hoodie. 
He looks at you with impossibly big, brown eyes, something you'd imagine only a puppy or a newborn baby to have. 
"Here." He says before tugging the hoodie off. The way he reaches up and grabs the back of the garment to take it off has the shirt under it riding up. You can see an expanse of ivory skin covered in charcoal-black lines, tattoos. They cover almost every inch of skin and you suspect they go farther down, past the waistband of his jeans. 
He shakes the hoodie out in front of you and you hesitate to grab it so he forces it into your shivering hands. The rain and the sudden drop in temperature are making you freeze. 
"Put that on. It'll keep you warm and away from prying eyes." His smile is big and bright as he watches you put his clothes on. 
It's big on you, more than big, enormous. What was a perfect fit on him, swallowed you whole. The hem came down almost to the back of your knees and the sleeves might as well have been a mile long. 
"Thank you," you say softly with an even softer smile back at him. 
"No worries." He then points at your hand and motions for you to reach it out to him. So, you do, without hesitation. 
He grasps your hand in his and with the other, rolls up the sleeve. He then produces a pen from seemingly thin air and scribbles something down. 
When he lets go of your arm, you hold it up. 10 scratchy numbers are etched over your forearm as well as a name. Eddie. 
You go to ask him why he's given you his number when he beats you to it. 
"Call me. I'll be needing that back." He grins, holding his fingers like a phone to his ear. You can't help the shy giggle that leaves you. 
The guy, Eddie as you have just learned, then sprints through the rain and into the bus you hadn't even realized had stopped moments before. 
He leaves you speechless and giddy. Butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach, making you dizzy. You have to sit down or else you think you might faint. 
Never have you had an interaction like this. Something so simple and sweet. He drew you in front the first second you laid eyes on him. 
It only takes you a few minutes to remember to come back to reality. Quickly you put his number in your phone under "hoodie guy (Eddie)" 
.... 
It's a few days later when you finally work up the courage to call hoodie guy. It’s maybe three in the afternoon and as the other line rings and rings your nerves begin to eat at you as you wonder if he did really want you to call him, maybe a text would have been better. 
Your thoughts are cut short when a rather chipper voice answers. “Y’ello?”
“Hi, is this Eddie?” You swear your anxiousness can be heard in your voice. 
“Yeah… and who is this?” He questions. 
“Oh, um. This is the girl you gave your hoodie to the other day, remember?” 
“I remember you.” You could almost hear the smile stretching across his face. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t call.”
You had it bad. Really bad. Just speaking to him for these few seconds had your heart racing. “Sorry about that. I wanted to wash it before I called.” You give him your name then, shyly introducing yourself. 
He chuckles in response, “Pretty name for a very pretty girl.” 
You’re glad this is a phone call, otherwise, Eddie would see how badly you are blushing. Your face is white hot and beet red, a dead giveaway to how this stranger has totally smitten you with two limited interactions.
You don’t realize you have been quiet this whole time until Eddie speaks up once more. “Hello? You there pretty girl?"
"Y-yeah," you stutter. "I'm here." You blush impossibly harder. 
"Would you like to meet me at the coffee shop by the bus stop we met at? It'll be my treat." There's a hopefulness to his question. 
You nod only to realize he obviously can't see you. "Yes," you answer. "I'd love to."
"Great! Can you be there in thirty?" 
"Sure. I'll head that way now."
Excitedly you begin to get ready, putting way too much effort into your outfit, but hey it's not wrong to want to look good for the guy you find insanely attractive.
… 
Thirty minutes later you are walking into the coffee shop dressed up in a cute, green corduroy pinafore dress, perfect for the upcoming fall weather, and a giant hoodie in your grasp. 
You don't notice the large guy coming up to your side until he's poking a finger into your shoulder to grab your attention. 
You jump at the sudden poke and turn to face the culprit. 
"Oh'" you say surprised. "Hi."
"Hi." He smiles back. "I'm sitting over there if you want to take a seat. What do you want to drink?"
You're quick to shake your head. "You really don't have to do that. I can pay for my part." You start fumbling for your card in the back of your phone case. 
He places a hand over yours. "I insist. What would you like?”
It doesn’t take much for you to give in and tell him your go-to order. After he repeats it back to you, you head to the table by the window Eddie had pointed to. His denim jacket was hung over the back of the chair, leaving you the booth seat to settle into. 
The cafe is relatively empty, save for the two baristas behind the counter and the older man seated at the corner table reading a book, so it doesn’t take long for Eddie to come back with two coffees carefully balanced in one large hand and a plate with a warm croissant. 
You try to help him but he tuts you away, quickly saying, “I got it, I got it.” He sets the plate down first before placing your glass in front of you and his before him. Then, he sits. 
You both take slow sips from your coffee and as he looks intently at you with those eyes, you try and avoid them. 
“This is for you.” He pushes the bread in your direction with the knuckle of his forefinger. 
“I- thank you.” A fierce blush starts to creep up your neck and you busy yourself by drinking some more.
You know that Eddie can tell you’re nervous. Who wouldn’t be able to tell with your seldom eye contact and soft, stuttering words? He starts the conversation off slow, easing you into a more comfortable state, you’re grateful for it. 
Questions like “How’s your day going” to his only little version of twenty questions finally get you to break out of your shell. He makes you laugh, a lot, to the point your stomach hurts and your muscles ache. 
Conversation flows easily after the initial bump in the road. You’ve talked about college and life after; he’s studying in the music department with plans to eventually become a professional musician. He tells you about his dreams and ambitions and you can’t help but feel inspired. You tell him about the book you would love to write one day and he listens intently. He even asks questions and refers to things you stated previously in the conversation. Never have you had such a connection with anyone, not even your closest friends. 
Eddie is so charming and witty that it barely even registers when both of your hands meet in the middle of the table. His larger fingers play with your smaller ones and you converse in your own little world. 
You’re only broken from your state of enchantment with the other when a cafe worker approaches you.
“I’m sorry guys but we close at four on Sundays and it’s ten till.” The worker gives you a strained smile, the underlying message, “Please leave.”
You gasp in shock. “How have we been here for three hours?”
Eddie looked at you, just as surprised. “Well, time does fly when you’re having fun, pretty girl.” 
You shake your head. The complement turned pet name making you blush every time he said it but not as hard as when your name rolled off his tongue. 
“Come on,” he says, standing to his feet. “I’ll take you home.”  He reaches for your hand and pulls you up after you quickly gather up your purse and his hoodie. 
As you walk out, you both apologize profusely to the two workers for staying right until closing. 
“How are you gonna take me home?” You ask. “You took the bus the day we met.” You really didn’t want him spending an extra bus fare just to escort you home.
He gives you a lopsided grin. “I took the bus 'cause I had an inkling not to listen to the weather. This is my usual ride.” Eddie arcs his hand out in front of you both, gesturing to the sleek black motorcycle resting by the curb. 
“Woah. That is actually really cool.” You gush. You had always wondered what it would be like to ride on a motorcycle. 
Eddie reaches out and grabs the helmet strapped to the seat and hands it to you. “Wear this.” 
“What about you?”
“You’re precious cargo, far more important than me.” He answers before helping place it over your head and buckle it under your chin. Then he takes his hoody from your arms and ties it around your waist. “That should cover you up enough.” He gestures to your dress. You hadn't even thought about that detail and his mindfulness had you swooning. 
He gives you a small but thorough lesson on what you do as a passenger before getting on and then helping you on after. 
He drives slowly, taking less busy streets to the address you gave him, and the whole time you cling to him. Your heart beats wildly in your chest at the feeling of freedom as the wind whips around you. Every so often, Eddie will reach for your hand at his waist, or when you are stopped at a red light he automatically reaches back to cup your legs, fingers dragging up the back of your calves. 
You’re sad when the ride comes to a stop outside your apartment building. You are slow you follow him off the bike and even slower to let him remove the helmet. This amazing time was coming to an end and you desperately didn’t want it to. 
You can feel his calloused fingers tickle your chin as he undoes the strap. He’s careful to pull the protective gear off, fixing the strands of hair that fall out of place when he’s done. You cherish the warmth coming from his palm and it really feels like he’s about to kiss you. And you wouldn’t mind if he did. No matter if you only just met him or if this seemed to be moving fast, you wanted to know what those plump lips felt like on your own. 
He leans in and your breath hitches in your lungs, your eyes close as you prepare with the one thing you need at this moment. Only, Eddie doesn’t kiss your lips, instead, he places a gentle peck on your cheek. You deflate, sad his target was somewhere else. 
“Eddie?” You ask softly.
“Yeah?” He mutters your name, eyes staring into yours. 
“I had a great time.” 
“Me too, pretty girl.”
“Thank you for bringing me home.” 
“You’re welcome.” He backs away from you and you frown just a bit. “You should get inside.” 
“I should… I’ll text you?”
“Nothing I’d want more.” He slides his leg back over onto his bike and you turn to walk away.
“By Eddie.” You only get a few feet before you pause. “Oh, wait.” You untie his hoodie from your waist and rush back to Eddie’s side. “Here.”
He shakes his head. “You keep it. Looks better on you than it ever will on me. Plus, it’ll give me a reason to come see you again.” 
You become shy again and the mention of seeing him again, hopeful that this wasn’t just a one-time thing to get his clothes back and that he will answer when you text or call him.
“Bye, pretty girl.” He grins and you watch him put his helmet on but he doesn’t leave just yet. No, he only leaves after he sees you enter your building and you waive to him from beyond the glass door. 
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feelbokkie · 3 months
Text
I am Anti-Romantic, but oh man those little efforts
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☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️
genre: non!idol au, fluff
pov: 2nd person
description: Another year, another Valentine's Day where you can't have a box of chocolate. Or, so you think.
pairing: best friend!minho x gn!reader
warnings: reader has a nut allergy, swearing, mention of food
word count: 2,074
a/n: happy valentine's day (it's still v-day somewhere)
©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
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“If you’re hinting at me to buy that for you, just ask,” Minho says suddenly, walking up behind you.
In your hands is a heart-shaped box of chocolate. Like you do every Valentine’s Day, you scanned the ingredients list on the back, hoping to find a safe box to no avail. You let out a quiet groan as you put the box back.
“Or you can buy it yourself since you’re independent and all that.” He suggests.
You turn to your best friend, and roommate, giving him a frustrated look. You can’t help the pout that appears on your face as your lower lip juts out. You don’t even realize you don’t even realize you’re pouting until Minho boops your lower lip.
“You look pitiful right now. How do I make it stop? Do you want me to ask you to be my Valentine or something? Take you out on a date? Help you egg an exes’ house? What?” Minho makes sure to move into your line of sight.
"It's nothing. Let's finish shopping, our frozen things are defrosting." You quietly sigh as you take the shopping cart and start pushing it away from all of the Valentine's candy.
Plop!
Screech!
You freeze as the chocolate box you just put away is sitting on top of the cart. You bite your lower lip as you slowly turn to Minho, quickly losing your patience.
"Minho--"
"What? Those aren't for you. I'm going to eat them while marathoning a new drama tonight. Maybe I'll give you one if you join me." He says nonchalantly, taking over the cart and pushing it towards the checkout.
"Number one, this is why you're single. You can't do cute, romantic things to save your life. At the very least, come back without me later and buy it." You huff, running to catch up to him. "Number two, read the back of the box,"
Minho slows the cart down and picks up the chocolate box, "What do you mean read--Oh,"
You watch as Minho's smile drops as he reads the ingredients of the chocolate box, littered with your allergies. It's the same disappointment you get every time you try to buy yourself a box of candy. If at least one piece of candy doesn't have nuts, it was made in a place that processes them, and that's too much of a risk to take for curiosity.
"No problem, I'll look for a different one." He walks back over the the wall of candy, searching through all of the boxes.
"It's no use, Min. They either have one that has a few chocolates that have nuts in them or they were made in a place that uses nuts. And all the safe ones are too small and taste like ass," You walk over to Minho to pull him away.
"You know what ass tastes like?" He smirks, still looking through the boxes.
"I will hit you in this supermarket in front of all these people," You threaten. "C'mon, let's go. The whole concept of Valentine's Day is a capitalist scam and way overrated anyway. The whole holiday is stupid. I was just curious. It's not that serious."
You tug on Minho's arm, trying to pull him away from the chocolate once again. He wiggles out of your grip and continues to look, waving you off.
"I know, I know you're all big and tough and think relationships are pointless. Now just wait a minute."
You roll your eyes, walking back to the cart and pushing it away from him. "Whatever, meet me at the checkout line when you're done doing the impossible."
About 10 minutes later, you're loading both yours and Minho's groceries on the counter when a defeated Minho walks up behind you. He silently helps you unload the cart, his face scrunched up.
I told you so. You think to yourself. You know better than to say that to his face, especially when he's deep in thought like that. The last time you let an "I told you so" slip he was insufferable for an hour purposely testing your patience and trying to dare you to say it again.
"That's so stupid," Minho mutters under his breath, his eyes trained on the road.
You look up from the receipt as you divide up the groceries so you can send him your half of the money. Your eyes scan the road, searching for whatever caused Minho to break his code of silence. Nothing. The road is quiet and everyone appears to following all of the traffic laws. For once.
"What...are you still on the chocolates? Minho, it doesn't matter, I don't care. I can get chocolate whenever I want. The fact that it's in a heart-shaped box doesn't change the flavor. And it'll be cheaper too."
"I think you do care. That's why you checked the box. Admit it, deep down behind your antiromantic exterior, you want to celebrate Valentine's Day like everyone else. That's why you were looking in the first place."
"S-shut up and take me home." You stutter, taken off guard by Minho's point.
While you have your own, valid hang-ups about Valentine's Day, he's a little bit correct. Growing up, you never got to eat most of the candy you'd bring home from class parties because of your allergies. And your exes would either get you a box of chocolate, disregarding your allergy or just get you flowers and a stuffed animal. Simple things, but you always read those situations as they didn't care enough to pay attention or they couldn't be bothered to even check. In the end, you were right, those relationships didn't last long. In a way, your allergy has become your test for relationships and so far, nobody's passed.
***
You let out a deep sigh as you flop down on the couch, exhausted more than usual after a shift at work. Not like your job doesn't drain you in general, but somehow it sucks more life out of you during the holidays. And Valentine's Day was no exception.
Too many of your coworkers spent the day bragging about what their partners got them or their plans after work. All the communal snacks in the breakroom were heart-shaped themed. Cute, but not worth the risk of possibly going into anaphylactic shock over it. You could have eaten one anyway and got to go home early. But you decided against it in the end.
"I'm going to order some food for dinner! Do you want anything?" You shout into your apartment. You know Minho's home. You saw his bag and keys by the door where he always leaves them when he's home.
You wait a few minutes, hoping to hear some sort of sign that he's awake. You've made the mistake a few times of waking him up from post-work naps, awakening his angry side. Not a fun day.
"I picked us up some dinner on my way home since I had some time to kill!" Minho finally calls out from the kitchen. "I got to go home early, there was a flood."
"Lucky bastard," You mutter under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows. "Did you cause the flood?"
Minho walks into the living room, setting the takeout bags on the coffee table next to you.
"You couldn't prove it if I did." He smirks before disappearing back into the kitchen.
You sit up now, getting ready to eat. You pull the coffee table as close to the couch as you possibly can so that neither have to lean over too much to reach the food. You grab the remote for the TV, freezing when something catches your eye. A red heart chocolate box, a stuffed cat, and a single tulip.
When did those get there?
You're not sure if they were already there when you got home. They must have been, you just didn't register them when you walked in. You furrow your eyebrows as you try to think. You're almost certain that Minho isn't dating anyone. But still, you're not sure why any of that stuff is sitting in your apartment.
"Why do you always move the table so close to the couch?" Minho whines when he comes back with drinks.
"Did you get into a relationship in the last 24 hours?" You question, taking the drinks from Minho as he climbs over the table to the empty spot next to you.
"I'm not stupid enough to start a relationship the day before a couple holiday. That's something Hyunjin or Jisung would do." He chuckles, taking the remote from the table.
"Then what's this?" You point to the mysterious gift on the table.
"It's for you," He says casually, turning on the TV.
"Me?" You point to yourself in confusion. "From who? A secret admirer?"
"From me, dumbass. Secret admirer...your delusional ass has been spending too much time with Chan hyung." He pulls up the show that you two were watching together last night after dinner.
You stare at the surprise Valentine's gift for a moment, confused. And a little guilty. You did nothing but bring Minho a cup of coffee before you went to work. But you didn't do that because of Valentine's Day, you did that because you wanted to.
You pick up the box and gently flip it over, ready to read the ingredients. Only, the back of the red velvet box is blank.
"Where's the ingredient list?" You question opening the box to at least find the flavor guide only to find the box full of little round chocolates.
"There isn't one," He takes a sip of his drink before unpacking the food.
"Then how am I supposed to know--"
"Don't worry about that," He lays out your utensils in front of you. "I made them so I know they're fine."
You freeze, replaying Minho's words in your head. He made you chocolate? A heart-shaped box of chocolate? With his own two hands? He did? Lee Minho? Your best friend.
"What?" He laughs when he sees the awestruck look on your face, "Y/n, it's no big deal?"
"No big deal? Are you fucking Willy Wonka! What do you mean you made me a box of chocolates?" You ask quickly, slurring your words in excitement.
"Ah, calm down. It was nothing."
You stare at your best friend for a minute, really stare at him. He's wearing one of his old black shirts and a pair of dark grey sweatpants. Both are covered with various, small stains. His bangs are clipped to the top of his, out of his eyes. If you didn't know any better, you would think that he didn't even go to work. That he stayed home, working on the chocolates for you. You know for a fact that he downplays everything, making it seem like everything is easy for him, even if they were really difficult.
"Eat your food and stop gawking at m--Why are you crying?" Minho pauses, his eyes soften as he looks at you. You didn't even know you were crying until Minho pointed it out. Your emotions betraying you as usual.
"Because that's the nicest thing anyone's done for me." You sniffle, still holding onto the box of chocolates.
"Not my fault you date losers." He laughs to himself.
"I'm serious. You...you just...Minho, what the hell??"
"You're welcome, now eat."
Minho's face is as red as the chocolate box as you continue to quietly sniffle and cry. Nobody's made this much trouble for you ever. They treated your allergy as an inconvenience rather than trying to accommodate you. Including your parents.
You sniffle, putting the chocolate box back on the table before finally digging into your food. A smile as wide as the Grand Canyon spreads across your face.
"Don't smile like that, it's unsettling."
"I'm happy, Minho."
"I know, that's what's unsettling."
"Thank you," You say softly.
"You're welcome, now shut up and eat. Sitting here crying over a box of chocolates."
"Careful, Min. People are going to start thinking you're in love with me or something," You tease, taking a sip of your drink.
"So? What if I am?"
The soda goes down the wrong pipe, causing you to choke on it. You're sputtering for air as Minho slaps your back.
"Jesus, I was teasing you back. What is wrong with you?"
"D-don't do that!"
"Where's the fun in that?" He smirks, his hand resting on your back.
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Buy me a coffee?
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