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soaps-mohawk · 1 month

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 15: Bonnie

Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7456 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst

A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise.

You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes.

“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom.

You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine.

You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past.

Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface.

Even he can’t protect you from this.

You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing.

John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem.

You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry.

You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one.

Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep.

You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness.

You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned.

You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?”

John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.”

You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief.

“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades.

“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.”

You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.”

“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”

You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake.

You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it.

John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what.

You might never get to know.

It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep.

Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent.

“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you.

He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed.

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons.

“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.”

You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any.

“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.”

You can only imagine how that went.

Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously.

“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door.

“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own.

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.”

He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between.

“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..”

“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you.

You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do.

He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does.

He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”

“You're tired.”

You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright.

You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”

“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm.

You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again?

“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.

Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”

Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response.

“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say.

“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”

Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”

“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”

“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”

You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger.

John trusts him, so you should be able to as well.

Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask.

Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own.

He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago.

“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.”

He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position.

“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over.

“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.”

You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run.

“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him.

You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious.

“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.”

You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing?

You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good.

Is violence and death really the path to the greater good?

“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil.

You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.”

He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head.

He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.

His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady.

“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.”

He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired.

“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.”

It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch.

You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too.

All he's waiting on is you saying the word.

He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something.

The thought makes you want to cry.

“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump.

You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?”

“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book.

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being.

“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face.

The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal.

You need to rectify this, and fast.

You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety.

Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory.

“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”

You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door.

You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?”

Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.”

Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back.

“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.”

You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line.

Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news.

“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?”

“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you.

“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes.

“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.”

He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin.

“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers.

“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours.

“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.”

You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver.

Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it.

“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip.

“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look.

The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room.

He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly.

“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.

“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”

“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”

“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”

Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.”

“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”

“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him.

“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.

He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal.

Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved.

Well, you suppose he is.

He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much.

It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you.

Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh.

“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.

You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg.

“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt.

He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric.

You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him.

“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?”

He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you.

You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely.

“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread.

You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you.

“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans.

You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets.

“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.”

You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation.

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you.

Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips.

He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage.

“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you.

The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position.

“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk.

He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers.

His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth.

You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin.

“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.

“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock.

“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday.

“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.”

Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs.

“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand.

Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm.

“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips.

You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other.

You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length.

“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his.

“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.”

You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position.

Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck.

“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat.

You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life.

You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat.

“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.”

He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again.

You’re in for a long night.

Taglist:

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gax x reader

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springtyme · 8 months

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐀 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 ♡

afab!reader x König, Ghost, Price, Gaz, & Soap

warnings: Allusions to sex/sexual themes, some angst but mostly fluff, language, König picks reader up, unplanned pregnancy, references to Simon's past (I've tried to keep it very vague cause that is a really rough topic), implied ptsd, mention of painful (IUD-related) period cramps (18+ mdni!)

word count: 5k

part two

König ♡

Your hands instinctively find their way to König’s hair, as the kiss deepens, tangling your fingers in the soft strands as the intensity of the moment increases and the atmosphere around you grows more and more steamy. Despite your wish to fully emerge yourself in the euphoric feeling, something in the back of your mind keeps nagging at you.

You have all evening had an underlying feeling that you have forgotten something, but without being able to figure out what, but as König’s hand starts to wander downwards, grabbing a handful of your arse it dawns on you.

Condoms. You forgot to pick up condoms earlier…

You have recently gotten your IUD removed, due to heavy period cramps. You had hoped and believed that it would get better over time but it had seemed like you had been one of the unlucky ones for whom it just didn’t get any better.

You don’t regret your decision, your last period was way less painful than before, but after being on contraceptives and in a committed relationship for so long, you have still not gotten back into the habit of buying condoms again.

“Fuck…” You groan out as you curse yourself out for your forgetfulness.

“What’s the matter, meine Liebe?"

You sigh as you bury your face into his broad chest. He gently strokes your back and holds you closer. Taking a deep breath, you lift your head and meet his concerned gaze. “I forgot to pick up condoms earlier," you admit, your voice filled with frustration. “We're all out, and I didn't even realise until now.”

König's face softens, understanding the reason for your sudden frustration. He gently cups your face in his hands, his eyes filled with love and reassurance. “It's alright, Schatzi," he says, his voice calming. “We'll manage,” he lets out a low chuckle. “Besides, I'm skilled with my hands and mouth, no?”

You let out a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, at his words. He is, truely, very skilled. But you have to admit that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about having him inside of you, to have him ravish you with his cock, all day. You’re currently ovulating, and like always, when you’re at this point of your cycle, your hornyness-level increases immensely.

“Yes, you are skilled, my love,” you assure him, “Very skilled, I had just hoped that I would have been able to ride you tonight without worrying about you cumming inside me. You confess, “I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day,” you feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your blunt confession - but only a tiny bit. You don’t think that you ever could feel truly embarrassed about confessing anything like that to him, you are too comfortable with him, too secure in your relationship for that. That is one of the most beautiful things about your relationship with König. He makes you feel so loved and seen and protected. The way he can look at you and make you feel like you’re the only woman in the world.

You feel how he squeezes you a little tighter by your confession, but also how his bulge hardens even more by your words. The burning fire that has been smouldering in your abdomen the entire day is now fully ablaze, and you feel how your pulse is throbbing between your legs.

The thought of bouncing on König’s cock, of having his mouth buried between your legs, of having him on top of you, of cuming on his cock as he fills you up till you’re leaking with his release, infiltrates your mind.

“I’m not going to lie, that would have been nice to do, Schatz,” he says and you can only agree.

But before you can voice your agreement, König continues, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination.“Would it be so bad if we said screw it and did it anyway?”

Surprised by his suggestion, you pause, unsure of how to respond. The idea of not using protection has not been something you have seriously considered before. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask him, “What are you thinking?”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of nerves and excitement as he meets your gaze. “I've been thinking a lot lately… Well, I have actually been thinking for a while now and I realised that I would really like to have a baby with you. That I’m ready to start a family together,” " he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours.

His words catch you a little off guard, and you feel a flurry of emotions rushing through you. The idea of becoming parents together is not something you have discussed yet, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding, “Having a baby is a big decision.”

“I know and I know that we haven’t talked or planned for this, and it may not be the ideal situation or timing, but… I can't help but want it, and I don’t know… this just feels like maybe it’s a sign.”

You're taken aback by König's revelation, a mix of surprise and uncertainty washing over you. However, his unwavering gaze and the love in his voice give you a sense of comfort and reassurance.

“I've seen how amazing you are with children,” he continues, his voice filled with warmth. “And I can't think of anyone else I'd want to start a family with. We may not have planned for it now, but I can’t help but want it.”

His words touch your heart, and you find yourself considering the idea. Despite the initial shock, a part of you has always known that you wanted to start a family with König, despite the two of you not having had a serious conversation about it yet.

As you take a moment to collect your thoughts, you realise that this situation could be an opportunity to grow together, to embark on a new chapter in your lives. You look into König's eyes, a mix of hope and determination shining within them.

Now that it’s said out loud, and you have seen the want and longing in Königs eyes, the idea of starting a family with him seems right, downright logical.

“Maybe you're right,” you say, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe it is a sign.”

König’s face lights up with joy, relief evident in his expression. He pulls you closer, his strong arms enveloping you with love and excitement. “Wirklich?!” His eyes now shining with unshed tears of joy.

“Yes, my love, really.” You grin up at him, before letting out a surprised shriek as you’re suddenly lifted from the ground.

König’s spinning you around as he lets out a deep laugh of pure excitement. You feel how tears start to form in your own eyes. You lock your legs around his torso as he finally stops spinning, your hands cupping his cheeks and your gaze finding his again.

“You really want a baby with me?” He whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, the air filled with a thick tenderness.

“I do,” you assure him, before kissing him softly. “Let’s make a baby.” You whisper into his lips.

Ghost ♡

This isn’t happening…

This can’t be happening.

Simon doesn’t even know how to describe what he is feeling. Is shock a feeling? It doesn’t really matter–a feeling or not–shock is the only thing that he is feeling after the words have left your mouth. Or maybe, in reality, he is feeling so much all at once that shock is the only thing his overstimulated brain can register.

Simon has been in situations that would leave any other person in a state of paralysing shell shock, more times than he will ever be able to count, but he always finds himself able to push through it, but not this time. No, this is about the most petrified he has been in years.

His mind is running a hundred miles an hour and has gone completely blank at the same time as he tries to process what you just told him. He finally manages to pull himself somewhat out of his trance and his eyes finally find yours again.

The look on your face pains him, and what pains him, even more, is the knowledge that he is the reason that you are pulling that face. His instincts, the protective side of him, scream to take you into his arms and comfort you but he is still too paralysed by the situation to do so.

“Ar-are you sure?” He manages to say, his voice cracking. He sounds uncharacteristically frail, the usual husky gruff of his voice weakened.

“I took three tests, Simon…” You say

He just nods as the reality of the situation fully hits him, he feels how his heart sinks as he absorbs the weight of your words. The room feels suffocating, as if the walls are closing in on him. He takes a shaky breath, desperately attempting to maintain the little composure he had managed to gain.

“And you really want to keep it..?” He hates how the words sound as soon as they leave his mouth. You don’t deserve this reaction, but he had never thought he would be in this situation.

It has always been a secret wish of his, a wish he knew he never would be deserving of getting granted. It would be too pure, too good for someone like him. But it has not kept him from secretly dreaming about it. All those late nights over the years when he has laid in his bunk on employment and couldn’t sleep, with no distractions other than his own head. On nights like those, he has let his mind wander, let his imagination run wild, and dreamt about it. Something wholesome and good, so different from the stress and terrors that come with his line of work.

On the worst nights when the nightmares keep him up or the adrenaline just won’t leave his body and let him get any rest, he lets himself indulge in the fantasy. It used to be more vague, but after he had met you they got clearer, more evident, almost tangible, which had scared the shit out of him. The fantasy of someday having a family of his own, of getting a chance to do everything right, of doing it differently from how he grew up himself.

But that was all it ever was, all it ever could be, a fantasy… How could it ever be anything else?! How could someone like him ever be a good dad? It was a thing that might not be that unrealistic of a wish if he was anyone else but himself.

He is too broken for that, has seen and experienced too much fucked up shit, and committed too many sins. But, fuck, now that it is actually within reach actually a real possibility he can’t help but yearn for it, even though it scares him shitless.

“I know that we have never discussed this and that it was nowhere near planned and I’m sorry if this fucks up everything between us but…” You trail off, nervously fidgeting with your sleeve, your eyes have left him, as you chew on as you take a shaky breath as if you’re gathering courage to continue, “I think I want this, Simon,” you finally say, your voice low and shaky, close to a whisper, but you take another breath, this one deep and certain, as you again lock your eyes with his, “I want this baby, Simon.”

Your eyes shine with a certainty that sends a rush through Simon’s entire body. You want this baby… His baby. It is like the entire world stops, a whirlwind of emotions runs through him in this moment and he can’t deny it anymore. He wants it too. He wants this baby, to become a family, to be the man that he always secretly has dreamed of being.

“I want it too,” He is still trembling slightly but a tone of determination has returned to his voice.

“You do..?” Your voice close to a whisper, but a hopeful tone lacing the unsurety.

“Yes,” and he does, he really does. “I want to be a family.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m scared shitless, but I do want this, sweetheart,” he reaches out a trembling hand towards you, wanting to offer some form of comfort, and to reassure you that he means what he is saying, “I really do.”

“I love you, Simon,” your beautiful eyes now shining with happy tears, “so, so much.”

“I love you too.” His protective instincts fully resurfacing, overriding his initial fear. He pulls you into a tender embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. “And I already love our kid too,” he adds, as he squeezes you a little tighter, protectively holding you in his strong arms. You and the child you’re barring, his child.

His own father had fucked him up so severely, taken so much from him, but this is not something his father will be able to take. As terrified and scared as he might be Simon knows, in this moment with you in his arms, that he will do everything to not become his father and that he will do anything to keep you and your unborn child safe, that he will make sure that they will grow up to know nothing but love and security and that he will do everything in his power to make sure that you never are gonna regret having him as the father of your child.

Simon's heart swells with a newfound determination. He knows it won't be easy, that there will be challenges and sacrifices along the way, but he is ready to face them head-on. He has spent years battling his demons and overcoming his past, and now he has a reason to fight even harder - for you, for his family.

Price ♡

As you sit across from John in your usually so cosy living room, you can't help but notice the nervous energy radiating from him. You’ve noticed a change in your husband's behaviour lately, and it's left you feeling puzzled and a bit concerned. John’s been acting distant, withdrawn and you can't help but worry that something might be wrong with him, that there might be something he isn’t telling you which is so out of character for him.

Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer you take in a deep breath, you have been gathering up the courage all day to confront him.

“Jonathan?” You say, voice close to a whisper, but still strong enough to be heard clearly. He removes his eyes from his book, in which he has been staring down into for the last thirty minutes without turning a page, seemingly without reading a single word. “Is everything okay? You seem different lately, and it’s been making me worried. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

His gaze shifts between you and the floor. Sensing that something important is about to be revealed, you lean in closer, waiting for him to speak.

John hesitates for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. “I'm sorry for acting distant. It's just that... I've been feeling nervous about something important, and I didn't know how to bring it up."

Your heart races as you anxiously wait for him to continue. "What is it?" you ask, a mixture of anticipation and concern in your voice.

“Darling,” he begins, his voice filled with both excitement and trepidation. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “I've been thinking a lot lately, about our future, about the life we’ve built together."

Your heart skips a beat, you feel a little pang of fear in your chest but you’re also curious to know where he’s going with this. “What is it, John?” you ask, your voice filled with anticipation.

“love, I think I want to try for a baby.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and your mind races to process the magnitude of what he's just said. A rush of emotions floods through you – surprise, joy, and a hint of uncertainty. You’ve dreamt of having a family with John, but the thought of bringing a child into the world amidst the challenges and uncertainties of his military career has always given you pause.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, reaching out to hold his hand for support. "John, I…" you begin, your voice filled with a mix of emotions. "I've always imagined us having a family, but I worry about the dangers you face, the time we'd have to spend apart."

John's grip on your hand tightens, his eyes filled with determination. "I understand your concerns, darling, and they are valid. But we've faced countless challenges together, and we’ve always persevered. I believe we can navigate this journey too."

His words resonate deep within you, reminding you of the strength and resilience you both possess. You find yourself nodding, a smile tugging at your lips. “You're right, John. We have overcome so much, and I believe we can face this too.”

The relief and joy that washes over John’s face is palpable. He pulls you into a warm embrace, holding you tightly as if never wanting to let go. “Thank you, darling,” he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. “I promise, I'll do everything in my power to protect our family, to be there for you and our future child.”

In this moment, as you hold each other tightly, you realise that together, you can face anything that comes your way. The journey ahead will be filled with uncertainties, but with love as your anchor, you know that you and John are ready to embark on this new adventure – the adventure of parenthood, embracing the joys and challenges that lie ahead, hand in hand.

Together, you begin to discuss your hopes, dreams, and plans for the future. And as the evening unfolds, you find solace in the knowledge that love, support, and a shared vision will guide you through whatever lies ahead on this new and exciting path.

Gaz ♡

You wake up to the sound of your alarm blaring in your ears. Groggily, you reach over to turn it off, but as you do, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling within you. Today is the day Kyle is coming home from deployment for a short visit. It has been months since you last saw him, and the anticipation of seeing him again fills you with a mix of nervousness and pure joy.

You get ready quickly, making sure everything is perfect for his arrival. The butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly as you make your way to the airport. Finally, you spot Kyle standing amongst the sea of people, his eyes scanning the crowd. As soon as he sees you, a wide smile spreads across his handsome face, and you can't help but match his enthusiasm. You run towards each other, embracing tightly, cherishing this precious moment as you kiss each other deeply.

Over the next few days, you spend every moment together, catching up on all the missed conversations and stolen kisses. It feels like time has stood still, and the world revolves solely around the two of you. But one evening, as you're cuddled up on the couch, a casual conversation takes an unexpected turn.

Kyle's arm is wrapped around your shoulder, his voice low and comforting as he recounts some of the experiences he had while deployed. He talks about the sacrifices made and the hardships endured, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. In a moment of vulnerability, he accidentally says, "I hope our kids never have to go through any of that."

You freeze, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. The two of you have never discussed having children before, and the mention of it catches you off guard. mind races, trying to process his words. You turn to face him, searching his eyes for answers.

Kyle’s eyes widens with embarrassment as he realises what he just said. You can tell that he hadn’t meant to blurt out his thoughts so suddenly. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he speaks. “I’m sorry, I've just been thinking a lot about thre future lately, you know, about what I want in life and all. And despite our age, despite everything going on, I can't help but imagine a family with you.” Kyle confesses, reaching out, his hand gently caressing yours. “I don't want to rush anything. But I want you to know that I genuinely see a future with you. I can't imagine a life without you by my side.”

His honesty touches your heart, and you can’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your body. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers, the sudden image of a beautiful little baby with Kyle’s eyes looking up at you is filling your head, “Kyle, I honestly never imagined having this conversation now, but I can’t deny that the idea of starting a family with you is really tempting. We may be young, but if we’re together, I believe we can face anything.”

Kyle’s face lights up with relief and happiness. He pulls you closer, his embrace tighter than before. In that moment, you both realise that the love between you knows no limits, and that sometimes, life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.

You know that this unexpected conversation has opened the door to a new chapter in your relationship, one that holds the promise of a beautiful future.

Soap ♡

You sink into the soft pillows with a content sigh, getting comfortable under the soft covers. You and Johnny had attended a family gathering at his parent’s house and now that you’re finally home and in bed you begin to reminisce about the day, recalling your favourite moments, the cheerful atmosphere that had filled the air, the delicious home cooked food and all the laughs and easy going conversations.

But one conversation had taken you a little aback, a comment made by one of Johnny’s relatives had stuck with you. You know that it had been meant in good humour but it had weighed on you. You had tried to push it aside but now that you’re home the words keep ringing through your mind. You ponder over what had been said to you but you’re pulled out of your thoughts as the bedroom door creaks open.

Johnny enters the room, a gentle smile on his face. In his hands, he holds a glass of cool, refreshing water. He knows you well, understands the little things that bring you comfort. A wider smile appears on his face as he approaches the bed and offers you the glass, his blue eyes filled with tenderness and care as he lets out a low laugh. “Can’t believe Rob’s having another boy!” He gently shakes his head from side to side. You had learned earlier in the day that Johnny was having yet another nephew.

You take the water from him, feeling the coolness of the glass against your palm as you smile up at him. The gesture touches your heart, a reminder of his thoughtfulness and love. Taking a sip of the water, you feel a sense of rejuvenation wash over you, as if his kindness has quenched not only your physical thirst but also your emotional weariness.

As you set the glass aside, Johnny slips into bed beside you, his presence a soothing balm to your soul. You snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body radiating against your skin. His touch is gentle, his embrace a source of comfort and security.

“Yeah, seems like boys just run in the family.” You smile up at him.

Johnny chuckles and jokingly comments, “You know, I think mam secretly hoped it would be a girl this time. I think she's secretly always wanted a wee girl to spoil since she only got sons.”

“Well, Hannah seemed rather serious when she told me that this kid will be their last.” You chuckle as you recall the conversation you had had earlier with Johnny’s sister in law. But the topic also again makes you recall the comment said to you earlier by Johnny’s aunt.

It had been amidst the cheerful atmosphere, when the news about Rob and Hannah expecting another boy had broken. The news seemed to ripple through the room, prompting everyone to offer their congratulations. You couldn't help but notice a sly smile from Johnny's aunt as she turned to you and said, "Well, now it's up to you and Johnny to bring a baby girl into the family!"

You had blinked from surprise, caught off guard by her comment. The weight of her words settled on your shoulders as you realised that the expectation for a future child had somehow fallen on you and Johnny. You had looked over at him, he was in the other end of the living room playing with his two young nephews. You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of love and admiration for him by the sight of them. Seeing him interact with those little boys, his blue eyes twinkling with joy and his deep laughter filling the air. But you also felt very put on the spot. "I... uh," you had stammered, searching for the right words. "We haven't really talked about all that yet."

Aunt Maggie chuckled softly, patting your arm. "Well, dear, there's no rush. But I'm sure everyone here would love to have a wee lass in the family someday and I’m sure you and Johnny would do a great job."

Her words had lingered in your mind for the rest of the day. You didn’t know if you should mention it to Johnny or not, you have no idea how he will react. But now as the two of you are in the secure atmosphere of your own bedroom you think that you might should.

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to bring up the topic that has been weighing on your mind all day. As you snuggle closer to Johnny, feeling the warmth of his embrace, you softly say, "Johnny, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

He looks at you with concern in his eyes, sensing the seriousness of your tone. "What is it, love?" he asks gently, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to begin. Finally, you gather your thoughts and speak from your heart. "It’s just… Maighread made a comment about us having a baby girl to balance out all the boys…”

Johnny's eyes widen slightly, surprise evident on his face. He takes a moment to process your words

"Wait, she really said that?" Johnny's surprise is evident on his face as he takes a moment to process your words. He gently moves closer to you, his fingers still tracing soothing circles on your back. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, love. I guess my family has a tendency to be a little too brash sometimes.” He says in an apologetic tone.

“It’s okay, I love your family, it just caught me a little off guard I guess,” you assure him, placing your palm on his cheek, gently stoking your thumb over the rough stubbles of his beard. A long silence breaks out between you, both absorbing what had just been said between you.

But Johnny finally breaks the silence. “It isn’t a terrible thought though," he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement, nerves and tenderness.

You pause for a moment, taking in Johnny's words, honesty and vulnerability shines from his eyes.

“No, it isn’t,” you finally say, finally letting yourself imagine it without any sense of fear or doubt about what Johnny would think of it. The idea of him holding a little girl, makes a smile tug at the corner of your mouth, and you suddenly feel like you’re about to cry. Just earlier today the idea seemed scary to you since you and Johnny never have talked about children, but now as you look into his eyes, your smile mirrored on his face, you aren’t that scared anymore.

“It’s actually a little weird that she said that, because earlier when I was playing with Noah and Oliver I couldn’t help but imagine us having a wean of our own… It’s actually something I’ve been thinking about for a while now..."

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, the weight of his words sinking in. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and a wave of emotions washes over you. “Really?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of joy and curiosity. “You want a baby with me..?”

“Yeah, I really do, love," he says softly.

"I think I would like that,” you say, your voice filled with sincerity. Johnny smiles, his eyes reflecting his love for you.

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the connection between you deepen. In that moment, you both know that this conversation is just the beginning of a new chapter in your lives. It's a chapter filled with love, hope, and the possibility of bringing a new life into the world. As you both cuddle in the warmth of each other's embrace, you feel a sense of peace and excitement wash over you. The weight of Aunt Maggie's comment no longer lingers heavily on your shoulders. Instead, it's been replaced with the knowledge that you and Johnny are on the same page.

With a renewed sense of love and purpose, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, knowing that the future holds endless possibilities for you and Johnny, both as a couple and as future parents.

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thevoidstaredback · 17 days

Text

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

It had been a long few minutes since he'd opened the door and there were a lot of questions running through Dick's head. Most pressing of which was how this kid seems to have information he should not have.

"How did you..?" he asked, but the words wouldn't leave completely. There's so much he wants to know, so much he wants to ask.

"How do I what?" Danny tilted his head like the child he seems to be is.

"How do you know?" Dick knows he sounds weak. There's no hiding that, but there are a lot of implications in what the kid has said so far and none of it is painting a very happy picture for him.

"Oh!" Danny had the audacity to smile, "You want to know how I know you moonlight as a vigilante!" And of course he knows. Dick knows he knows, but he'd held a little bit of hope that the child Danny was mistaken. Danny's smile softened a bit as he explained, "Your hair and voice match up in both jobs almost perfectly. Not to mention your build and how you hold yourself. There's also the matter of your overall vibes, but that's not something living beings can normally pick up on." Excuse him? "Well, not living humans, at least, so no worries on that end!"

"Excuse me?" Dick was fairly sure his heart just stopped beating for a moment there.

"Anyway, I was a hero back home for a while, too. I know what it's like to have to walk the tightrope between maintaining a civilian cover and a hero persona. I know how it feels to have to keep secrets from everyone because anyone who knows will be in danger." he rambled, Though, admittedly, our circumstances are quite different. I was working as a hero all hours of the day as well as going to school. You only have to worry about properly balancing between day and night jobs. Either way, me having more to bounce between just makes me al the more qualified to help you!"

Oh. Oh he did not like that. He didn't like a single thing that just came out of the kid's mouth. Because that's what he is, a kid. "Are you...Are you alright?"

"Not in the slightest," Danny admitted with an even smaller smile. Then, it brightened, not quite to a grin, but to something similar, "But I'm here to make sure you are."

He gets points for being honest, but Dick felt his heart shatter. He knew for a fact that he'd never worked with this kid before. He also knew that the Justice League didn't know about him. If they did, he would've been picked up and dropped with either the Young Justice team or the Titans.

Dick wasn't going to ask why he became a hero because that's not his place. It's more of a 'third mission with the team' kind of questions, anyway. Most of the heroes didn't have many options when they took up the mantle. Asking what Danny can do is a more appropriate question, but he wasn't going to ask that, either.

"Now that that's out of the way," Danny turned a few pages from the table of contents to another one that was topped with 'Why Sleep Scheduling Is Important' in the blue glitter pen that Dick was starting to suspect he favored. "You're not getting enough sleep. Following you around - no one's been able to find me for a while, so don't worry about that - for the last two weeks has given me some really worrisome information on you."

Dick was worrying. He was worrying a lot and even more questions were coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Your dayjob is as an officer on the Bludhaven Police Force, or BPD for short." He was looking over the page he'd turned to very aptly and Dick realized that the kid had notes written on him. "The average hours per week for police across the country is forty hours. Gotham and Bludhaven are the exceptions. As a member of the BPD, you work a solid two days and two hours. Six nights a week, you work as Nightwing from eight in the evening to three in the morning. The last day, you take off, which is good. No deserable pattern, so good on you for that. Regardless, that's seven hour nights and ten hour days, with one day off and one day on call as an officer. Seven hours are now left in your day for personal time, eating, and sleeping. That's not a healthy way to live."

Oh, god, the kid had honest to god notes on him! What the hell!

Danny didn't even skip a beat as he pulled Dick's attention back to him and his binder. "I've drawn up a schedule for you to follow." The back of the page had a meticulously drawn schedule, complete with blocks of time to eat, sleep, work both jobs, travel, personal time, and still have a bit extra left over. It was titled 'Ideal End Result' in green marker. "Drastic changes right away will only affect you negatively, so we're starting off smaller." The next page over had another schedule titled 'Where To Begin'. "I've only pulled one hour from your Nightwing hours because I know important that time is to you and the city. I am, however, going to be having you submit an appeal to your boss to cut back your hours from fifty a week to forty a week. That way, you'll only be working eight hours a day and not ten. You'll still be on call for one day, and you'll have that last day off. Altogether, you'll be going be going from working seventeen hours a day to fourteen hours a day. Nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, and eight in the evening to two in the morning. Not including breaks at work or travel time. It opens up a few more hours for you to sleep!"

"You really think the chief is going to pull back my hours?" Dick raised an eyebrow in question.

"He will if he knows what's good for him."

"You know I can arrest you for that threat, right?"

"Yeah, but you won't." And, damn it, he's right.

Although, there was now another thing he had to know. "How to you plan on enforcing this schedule of yours?"

Danny seemed to have been waiting for this. He got a gleam in his eye as he pulled a black folder from his bag, not breaking eye contact with Dick. He placed it on the table and pushed it across. "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Part 1 Part 3

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nicksolemnlyswears · 3 months

Text

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

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

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you going far?"

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

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

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

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

"You really don't have to…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Late night?"

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

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

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

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

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, rebellion or something else?"

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

"Did it work?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

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

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night," he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You sure?" He asks once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, chef!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chef, your girl is here."

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

"Here you go."

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Chef!"

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

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

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

"You too, Neil!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about your famous pizza?"

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

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

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That rough," you grimace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What good does he have to offer you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's been so fuckin' long.

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

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

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carmen, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

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

The End?

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

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

thank you! bye xx

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