#but i've always cursed my... choices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chuluoyi · 7 months

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fear

- gojo satoru x reader

his best friend’s defection is still a hard topic for him to swallow, and it leads into an unexpected argument that spurs you to leave, only to unlock a new fear in him when you get into an unfortunate accident afterwards.

genre/warnings: angst, gojo being mean, one scene with a worried nanami *wink*, injured reader, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end

notes: *sigh* my coping mechanism is still gojo’s past arc, which is why this piece takes place on that timeline. just a little context: reader is in the same class with nanami & haibara and was in the same mission that took haibara's life. this is probably the longest oneshot i've written so far sooo… enjoy! :)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

A year and a half had passed since Suguru embarked on his path as a curse user. In that one year and a half, Satoru had finished his last year at Jujutsu High, and now was in the halls of his alma mater, speaking to the newly appointed headmaster who was none other than his teacher.

"You're applying to become a teacher?" Yaga asked again with a frown. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Granted, he was his most troublesome pupil. "Why, Satoru?"

"If I said it's because I want to train young sorcerers to be strong, would you believe me?"

That was not a lie. It was actually 50% of his main reasons anyway. The other 50% was to repent what he missed with Suguru when he chose his dark path—his contempt with the current system of this jujutsu world.

"I would," Yaga responded gruffly. To him, Satoru was irritating, but he also knew that he was also extremely capable, and thus everything he did wasn't just out of nowhere. "But you still have to submit your applications. We can't make an exception even if you come from a prestigious clan."

"That's fine with me," he grinned. "Thanks, sensei."

On summer days, he'd get reminded of Suguru and silly things they had done together. Eating shaved ice, cycling together, driving either you, Shoko or Nanami mad. Satoru missed those days, it hadn't been the same ever since. Not knowing if his best friend was alright—if he was still alive at all—was exhausting.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one who was affected by his departure, the only one who stayed right where Suguru left him. Shoko didn't seem ruffled, if anything she just went to more bars and pachinko parlors as of late. Nanami was always a recluse, he never disclosed his feelings. You mourned him, but it was clear that most part of you would always be more focused on Haibara's death.

Satoru understood that he couldn't force anyone to feel what he felt, and he had no right to. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to connect with at his level. Someone to get him just like Suguru did.

And so when he got back to his condo that night—just right next to the one he rented for Megumi and Tsumiki, since he had moved out of his dorm—to find his girlfriend there with a big smile and a tray of cupcakes, unaware of everything and anything, he merely scoffed to himself.

"Satoru, you're back," you acknowledged, beaming like the sunshine you were. "I just baked these for the kids. Do you want some?"

Usually he'd smother you, throw some pickup lines here and there and say yes, but today, he just felt drained. "No." And with that, he stalked away to the bathroom, not glancing back at you.

It was wrong. But tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, and so keeping his silence seemed to be the best choice as he didn't want to start a pointless argument with you. But you weren’t anything but observant, and definitely noticed that something was amiss with him.

"Are you... alright?" You approached him warily after he came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Where were you today?"

"Just somewhere," he replied curtly. Afterwards he turned on the hairdryer, drowning the whole place with the noise even as you stood behind him with a visible question mark.

But you were still there after he dried his hair. "Is something bothering you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, concerned. By all means, you mean well. You just wanted to know if he could use your help at all.

When you pulled that expression, he couldn't help feeling annoyed, like he wanted you to take a hint, but you just didn't. "If you know, then just shut it."

It was probably the first time since the two of you got together that Satoru actually said something harsh. But you still tried to be reasonable though, bless you.

"Satoru, I don't know what got into your nerves like this, but I think sleeping through it might help. Have a rest."

"Why are you talking as if you know it?" he snapped, finally turning to you with his cold gaze. "You might not know anything, so don't be a know-it-all. Just mind your own business."

Now you were frustrated with his reply. "Once again, I don't know what happened to you. But if you're taking it out on me because I'm the closest you have—"

"Who said that?" Satoru didn't know where he got all this venom from. It was just at the forefront of his mind and he just got the urge to spew it. "You're considering yourself closest to me? Where did you get that big head from?"

You were aghast, and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. "Let me guess, it's about Geto-san, isn't it? Or the higher ups. Either of that must be what causing you to blindly place your anger on me."

"So what if it was? It isn't like you'll understand anyway."

"Satoru," you started, trying to even your breathing. "What happened to Geto-san isn't your fault. I've been telling you this. It can't be helped—"

"Can't be helped?" he jeered. "Do you know why it has come to this?" his tone took a dangerous edge as he stepped closer. He reached for you, grasping your wrist.

"Maybe because I was too blind back then. If it weren't for you—if only I didn't spend that much time on you, maybe he would still be here."

Did he just say that? Did he just imply that he had regretted the two of you getting together?

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and something seemed to obscure and blur your vision, making it hard to see him clearly. "You... don't mean that."

"Really?" the corner of his lips curled into a disparaging smile. "You never know. Before you know it, this can be over already. After all, I could have anyone out there that I want. Maybe someone less nosey than—”

That did it. You wrenched your arm out of his grip violently, as your first tear fell. His smirk vanished too, replaced with a total stillness to cover his sudden panic that was followed by a sudden sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"You selfish, self-obsessed jerk," you hissed through watery eyes. He was taken aback, even amidst your anger and possible fear of him, your still managed to throw daggers at him. "Fine. You have it. I'll see myself out."

Satoru never wanted you to leave. Honestly, he would've made you stay. But he wasn't in the right state of mind and it was too late to take back what he said. He didn't want to mess this up even further.

You left the cupcakes, even throwing it away just to spite him. Driven by pain and humiliation, you choked back your sob and didn't spare a glance at him as you shut the door.

Peace and quiet. There he had it, he thought as he clenched his fists, at the cost of everything else.

Leaving that condo, every step you took felt like needles piercing your shattered heart. You wiped your tears roughly. No, you refused to cry over such asshole. He made it clear, didn't he? Whatever it was that you two shared, it was at the cost of his best friend leaving him. So now the blame was on you.

If you were thinking clearly, you would've understood that his words were likely a result of his own pent-up pain and frustration that he had kept to himself for some while. But you had no patience for that or even pinpoint what you felt right now—anger, disappointment or dread, or perhaps all three. You just felt wrongly accused.

Your feet brought you back to your dorm in the school. Now it wasn't as bustling as it once were. After Satoru and Shoko's graduation, you didn't really get close to anyone. There was Ichiji, but he treated you more like a mentor rather than a classmate.

As you sank into the comforts of your bed, You replayed the events, trying to find where it went wrong—and found nothing. After all, you had already said all that could be said. It wasn't just him who lost Geto, but you, Shoko and Nanami did too, but it was more convenient for Satoru to blame everyone else rather than trying to understand that they too shared this pain.

Nevertheless, you were disappointed. You didn't expect half of what he spouted, and it got you doubting everything you had.

"You've royally fucked up."

Satoru exhaled, glaring at Shoko through the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

The reverse cursed technique user threw him a blank stare, taking in everything from his disheveled hair to his wrinkled trousers. "Gojo, as much as I can’t care less about your sorry ass, I'm saying this not out of concern for you, but rather for Y/N. You are an asshole."

The puff of smoke she blew expanded to create a cloud-like shape. "Yaga-sensei was our teacher. His student is now a mass murderer and wanted dead. Can you even imagine how he feels? And I can't believe I'm saying this—but weren't there three of us?"

A week had gone by and instead of doing the right thing like trying to get into your good graces, Satoru was in Shoko's infirmary in the headquarters instead. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for by going here. Maybe some lingering taste of his happier student days, and Shoko was the only one remaining.

Three of us, huh... she was right. That was precisely why he came here after all.

"You're just sulking because it seems no one cares about your best friend being the best there is. But have you thought about how our juniors also lost Haibara? Right in front of their eyes? Haibara was our friend too."

He was wrong, of course he was. Satoru realized that now. But it felt wrong to ask for your forgiveness now, not to mention the disrupting thought he had—should he let you go for good altogether?

The phone suddenly rang with such fervor that made Shoko utter a swear word. She was on call duty for the rescue team today, and it was supposedly a peaceful day until Satoru decided to barge in to become her company. "Hello? Ichiji? What—speak clearly, I can't hear you."

She switched it to loudspeaker. "...iri-san! Ieiri-san—h-help—please—"

It was noisy, and blaring at the same time, and Ichiji was... Sobbing? Choking? His voice was terribly muffled and—

"L/N-san!" he cried, and Satoru remembered at that moment that you should be in a mission with Ichiji, he remembered you telling him before.

"Hic—s-she fell... hic—she fell! B-blood! She i-is bleeding so much! I-Ieiri-san—hic—s-send help! Please!"

"Hey, stay awake. Breathe. Just breathe."

Everything hurt. Most notably, your head. You could hardly think straight when all you felt was blinding pain and how your breaths came in short wheezes.

Your vision was blurry. The numbness had started to set in and chills ran up and down your spine. You couldn't make out who in front of you was. Was it Ichiji, who went with you in this mission? The only thing that glared was blue.

"You can't sleep, you hear me?" the voice was commanding, willing you to do his bidding. It was familiar, but usually his tone of voice was much lighter, happier.

Satoru.

But why was he here? He wasn't in this mission. It was supposed to be a mission for you and Ichiji.

You remembered getting the cursed spirit after manifesting your domain expansion, until in its last ditch attempt, it went after Ichiji. You had no choice—even when your cursed energy had burned out, you still shoved him away at the cost of being flung from the top of a building.

Not again. Not after Haibara. You’d gladly pay the price if it meant you didn't have to see anyone die in front of you again.

"I..." You managed to croak out—breathing hurt, and you felt your hands being grasped tightly.

"Hey, just breathe. Y/N. Look at me.” Through your blurry haze, you focused on that cold blue, and you saw him. Satoru's sharp eyes, pursed lips and frown. He's really here.

Satoru always said that if there was a cursed spirit apocalypse, then Ichiji would be the first to die. You used to scold him for that, but now as you a laid here possibly dying in your own pool of blood, you found it to be true.

Yet at the same time you knew that with him here, Ichiji must be safe already, and it gave you reassurance so great even when you were on the verge of dying. "I... can't..."

"Yes, you can. Just look at me," he firmly rebuked, his voice came out in a hiss. For all the time you had been with him, you had never heard him so forceful. "If you close your eyes now, I won't forgive you. So please, just hang in there."

It was a struggle to take in any air and darkness encroached on your vision as your consciousness began slipping away.

And everything faded to nothingness.

Satoru honestly thought he had no fears. His worst fear had fully realized after all—Suguru going away into the darkness. What more could he possibly fear?

But when he heard Ichiji's distress call for rescue team, about how you fell from a rooftop of a building and unconscious, he realized that it was a fear he didn't know existed. His mind got disoriented and he teleported to the scene on impulse. He just had to see it for himself. With their petty argument still lacking closure, he felt even worse.

And the sight before him gave him so much fright he never thought was possible.

It was a mistake, he should have brought Shoko along.

You had laid there like a broken doll, your eyes dimmed, and not been able to breathe. He desperately tried to keep you awake, his presence beside you, yet it didn't seem to matter. He watched helplessly as you passed out in his arms.

Satoru felt nothing. The panic that had set in was suddenly gone as your limp body slumped against him, replaced by incessant ringing in his ears and tremor wracking his nervous system. It wasn't long until the rescue team came to retrieve you and even then he still felt numb. He rejected the idea that you might possibly die on him.

That went on until Shoko, who assisted in the emergency treatment, came out of the surgery, sweat on her forehead.

"It's even worse than the aftermath of the guardian deity mission last year," Shoko explained with a grim expression. "Her brain has sustained damage and it affects everything. It may take her quite a while before she can go back to the field."

When she said that, Satoru felt terror washed over him again. You almost died—was all he perceived.

The two of you had no contact for a week just because of his ego. He could still recall that day with vivid clarity, feeling a burning ache in his chest. If someone were to ask him what heartbreak was like, now he certainly would he able the to tell them the two instances in which he experienced them. What he felt now mirrored the same stinging sensation he had felt when Suguru left him.

He visited you when he was allowed to, and you were still unconscious, with many machines connected to your body. It was a sight he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to. He had seen you injured before, but never seen you in your own pool of blood, so this made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Stupid," he whispered, gently rubbing your forehead. His eyes remained fixated on you as you rested, his insides still churning with emotions. "You're not weak, and you're not hopeless." Once upon a time, Satoru might have thought of you as weak, but now he knew better.

"So why you always pick the worst decision?" The more he thought this could've been avoided, the more irked he was. The thought that he could have done something to prevent it intensified the sting of guilt, and he continued to punish himself with it.

And the more he dwelled on the idea that he had hurt you prior to this, the tighter his breath became.

But that was who you were. Self-sacrificing to a fault. And he loved you for that. There was no way of him letting you go now.

It astonished even himself—that he was capable of this love thing. At first it was an attraction, but now that you had been going on for more than a year, it felt like it was no longer a silly infatuation after all.

"Hurry and wake up, will you?" Satoru gently brushed your hair aside, his eyes fixed on you. He didn't know it even as his gut twisted, his frown deepened and his touch quivered, that he was worried sick. "I have a lot to make up for."

And he left you with a tender brush of his lips against your forehead.

Nanami Kento was the first person you saw when you awoke from coma.

You struggled to regain your senses, still feeling absolutely broken. The dull throb on the back of your head was still there, and as if you had found yourself trapped in a fog, you were only able to move sluggishly.

"You're awake?" his gruff voice greeted, laced with concern. In his hand were a bucket of fresh flowers and fruits basket, which he soon placed at the table next to your bed.

It was unexpected, because ever since the tragedy that costed Haibara's life, the two of you had been drifting apart.

You nodded, and let out a hum in response—all you could manage at the moment.

"Thank God." Nanami sounded relieved as he pinched the bridge between his eyes, and you were moved that he had shown this degree of concern.

Your remaining classmate, who suffered the burden of Haibara's life just like you. He was always quiet or brooding somewhere, hiding his own feelings.

You felt tears pricking the corner of your eyes. The fact that he visited you meant that he hadn't decided to cut you out of his life yet.

"Gojo-san is out today, but he'll be back by afternoon," he said, mistranslating your tears as some sort of a want to have your annoying—ex?—boyfriend at your side.

The two of you were still not on talking terms, weren’t you?

You so badly wanted to say thank you to him—and tell him that no, you weren't looking for Satoru—but it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Huh?" Nanami then realized what you were trying to say, and a faint smile graced his lips. "Just... get well soon, L/N. Have a good rest."

Just before you drifted back to sleep, you could hear him sigh and mutter, "Hello, Gojo-san? L/N has awakened. Just letting you know is all.”

You weren't sure how much time had passed when you woke up the second time, but the curtains were already drawn and only darkness came from the window. Your body felt lighter, but you still felt like a mess and and couldn't help but groan in discomfort.

Satoru was there, he perked up at the noise you made. And you realized that it was the first time in about a week that he faced you after that disasterous almost-breakup.

He walked up to you, his expression was more hopeful than you had ever seen him before, like a kid whose wish had been granted. He slowly shifted to sit beside you.

"Hey, welcome back." His voice was soft. It was a change of pace for him, as you were used to seeing him all loud and silly.

Now your voice no longer sounds like a lead. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" he asked and you took a moment to look at him. He was smiling, but exhaustion reached his bright eyes, dimming them. "You know, with the whole you passing out and almost dying thing?"

His words were almost humorous as he spoke, like he didn't know what else to say except try to lighten the mood, but there was also a strain on his tone, like he was holding back.

"I'm quite fine now, I suppose..." You still felt the lingering pain and dizziness as you slowly sat up. Satoru reached out to steady you—and you realized how his fingers trembled when they made contact with your body—as his brows furrowed with worry when you winced.

"You don't look like it though." His voice dropped and the humor was gone, replaced by this haunted look. You blinked. It was probably the first time you had seem him this ruffled.

He immediately pulled you into a hug, cradling your head to his neck gently, as if to protect and shield you from the world altogether. Exhaling heavily, he leaned on you. "You scared me, you know that?"

You wondered out loud if you really had that hold over him. "Did I?"

"You can't do that to me, you hear?" Satoru stroked your hair, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. His voice quivered. “Don't ever do that again.”

He pulled you tighter against him, but still careful not to crush you.

You let out a snicker, letting go of everything you felt during this horrible week. "Heh, afraid to lose me, huh?"

"Shut up,” he grumbled. “What were you thinking anyway? How did you calculate that freefalling is better than letting that cursed spirit attack Ichiji?”

"He was defenseless. He could die, you know that."

"And you also can," he quipped, upset, pulling away enough to look you squarely in the eyes, his eyes devoid of any expression, yet filled with a raging wave that you could only interpret as undiluted concern.

The emphasis in his tone made you recoil and feel guilty. If you were in his shoes, you probably would've said the same thing and so you had nothing to say to that.

But the more pressing agenda in the list was the unspoken silent treatment the two of you saw fit to use against each other for the last few days. Satoru was the one who decided to address it first.

"About that night..." he faltered, looking away. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

Satoru always had trouble processing emotions. This time too. He must've a hard time dealing with the anxiety caused by the possibility of him losing you for good, no matter how much he tried to be unaware of it.

"..." You wanted to respond, to make him understand your point, but somehow right now you were just too weary. And he sensed your reluctance. So you blurted the first thing that gnawed at your mind.

“You said you could have any other women out there—”

"No, really—" he started to panic, and it was blatantly too, which surprised you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Us. I don't regret anything. I’m not breaking up with you. Being with you is the happiest I've been ever since Suguru left."

“That's...” you blinked, before letting out a small sigh. “Okay. Fine then. Let's just put it behind us for now.”

“I—” he almost wheezed, his bright blue eyes were overtaken with sheer urgency to explain how wrong everything had been that night. “You must know that I didn’t mean any of it. And that I hate hurting you the way I did. I won’t—”

"Satoru, I understand," you let out another sigh, fidgeting with your fingers. "Sometimes when I’m reminded of Haibara, I also get sad. I don't want to presume but I think I know how you feel. Just next time, maybe," you shifted your gaze on him, seeing how you had his attention fully. Gojo Satoru, the strongest now, was looking at you as if you had his fate in your hands. "Just tell me if you need space and I would have understood."

"Yeah, okay, sure," he responded immediately, relieved, before a lopsided grin appeared on his face, turning him back into your dork slash boyfriend. "So, am I forgiven now?"

"A thank you would be nice."

In the end, he chuckled, seemingly resigned. "You should sleep more."

He positioned himself into bed next to you, and you let him pull you into his chest again. You could feel how his taut back started to relax upon the contact. He pressed his lips on your forehead in a fleeting kiss.

"Promise me you won't pull that stunt again.”

You smirked. "I can't. What if Ichiji—"

"Then just let him die."

You swatted his arm playfully, pressing your head to his chest as he continued to run his fingers on your hair. He cushioned you carefully, and you felt the tension in him slowly melt away with each breath you took. In your mind, you figured he needed this closeness more than you did, if anything, for the sake of his sanity.

“I love you,” he whispered by your ear, kissing it lightly.

“Mmhm.”

As you felt Satoru's calming presence, it helped ease you into slumber. You soon found yourself in a deep sleep, comfortably held in his embrace.

Epilogue

Ichiji gulped as Satoru stared him down, sizing him up as if he was the most despicable creature on this planet.

Okay, he might be. He was a coward, all he could do was trembling in the face of evil. But he had come in peace, even bringing fruits as an offering! He felt bad too that he was the partial cause for you to be this injured.

He was used to Satoru terrorizing him—calling him names, slapping him, and whatnot—and he could take it. Just this time, he really looked like he could murder him on the spot if he wanted to. A small part of Ichiji mourned that you were his girlfriend, because that pretty much sealed his fate that Gojo Satoru could indeed murder him on the spot because he had a valid enough reason to.

"You are—"

"No! I'm sorry, Gojo-san! I'm sorry for my incompetence!"

"Hah?"

If he was mildly irked before, now Satoru was visibly irritated.

"You're not cut out to be a jujutsu sorcerer," he started. "You're useless. You just get in the way most of the time."

Ichiji kept his head down. No, no. He can't cry!

"Get your driving license or I'll slap the shit out of you."

"Oh?" and before he knew it, Satoru had stalked away, leaving him in the dust. How rude! But...

Get a driver license? Quit the jujutsu work?

Hey, that sounds like something I can do!

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nicksolemnlyswears · 4 months

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THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

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

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you going far?"

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

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

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

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

"You really don't have to…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Late night?"

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

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

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

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

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, rebellion or something else?"

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

"Did it work?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

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

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night," he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You sure?" He asks once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, chef!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chef, your girl is here."

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

"Here you go."

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Chef!"

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

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

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

"You too, Neil!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about your famous pizza?"

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

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

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That rough," you grimace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What good does he have to offer you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's been so fuckin' long.

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

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

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carmen, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

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

The End?

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

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

thank you! bye xx

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

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 11 months

Text

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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awearywritersworld · 8 months

Text

"took you long enough"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you ask your best friend to meet the guy you've been seeing, things don't go quite as planned. w/c: 3.2k tags/warnings: angst to smut with a fluffy ending. 18+. friends to lovers. jealous gojo. curse words. drinking. gojo shoves ur love interest. he's just kind of an ass to him in general. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: i don't often write smut, but i kinda got carried away.. carpe diem, i say masterlist

gojo is tired of hearing you ramble on about the new guy you've been seeing. he barely even glances at your phone screen when you try to show him a picture you took together.

"you're way out of his league," he states dryly.

"hardly," you scoff. "men don't exactly line up for me like women do for you."

it'd be a lie to claim you didn't have a thing for gojo at one point, but you learned a long time ago that he isn't interested in you that way. it wasn't hard to tell, given his parade of hookups and the occasional two week relationship. you've gotten over it though... for the most part, anyway.

he rolls his eyes. "i assure you that's only because you're shy, princess."

"okay, so you should be rejoicing that your best friend finally landed herself a boyfriend—"

"boyfriend?"

"well.. it's not official yet, but i think he's going to ask me soon!"

your apparent enthusiasm at the prospect leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. of course, it's only because he wants the best for you and this guy certainly isn't it. "you've gone on like two dates."

"'toru, i've been seeing him for almost a month!" when he doesn't respond, you continue speaking. "so... that's why i was sort of hoping you'd come out with us tonight."

he looks at you increduously, "i am not third wheeling."

"you won't be!" you assure. "shoko and kento said they'd come. i just want you to meet him because you're really important to me and i actually think this could go somewhere—"

"alright, alright," he acquiesces, albeit begrudgingly. he's never been able to say no to you.

you squeal with excitement, throwing your arms around his neck in a brief hug. "i can't wait! we're all meeting at seven, i'll text you the address."

after a quick kiss to his cheek, you gather your things, all but running out the door. you weren't going to give him a chance to change his mind.

he stares after you wordlessly, running a hand through his hair while an unfamiliar tightness overcomes his chest.

when gojo enters the bar, he spots you right away despite the sizable crowd. as he makes his way toward your group, he can't help but notice how pretty you look in your little dress. in fact, you'd look absolutely perfect if it weren't for the fact you have another man's arm around your waist.

wait, what?

your laugh rings out across the room and judging by the smirk on shoko's face, he can tell she's said something you find unreasonably funny. once you spot him, your face lights up and you pull away from your almost boyfriend to give gojo a hug, something that brings him a sense of satisfaction.

"hey, sweetheart," he greets loud enough that the other man can hear. "who's this?"

"satoru, this is shinya!" you're beaming at him expectantly, so gojo has no choice but to extend his hand.

"hey, man." shinya shakes it firmly. "it's great to meet you. my girl's told me a lot about you."

gojo's eye twitches and he decides almost immediately that he finds shinya utterly insufferable. his voice is grating and he's too short and didn't you say you prefer guys with lighter hair—

"nice to meet you, too," gojo responds cooly. "i'm always happy to meet one of her friends."

nanami and shoko share a knowing look, more than prepared to break out their hypothetical popcorn. and boy, is this as good an occasion as any.

the strongest sorcerer isn't one to indulge in liquor, but how can he refrain when he has to be in the same room as shinya? each time he touches you, looks in your direction, calls you some sickening pet name— whenever he breathes in your general vicinity, really— gojo brings his drink up to his lips.

everyone else seems to be getting along, but unfortunately, he grows increasingly snarky with each glass he empties.

shinya asks what you'd like when he goes up for another round and it's 'oh, you don't know her favorite drink? well, i guess you're not as close as we are.'

shinya pulls your chair out for you and it's 'wow, you really got yourself a gentleman, princess.'

shinya mentions that he's fairly well versed in martial arts and it's 'really? maybe we should go out back and spar. i think it'd be fun.'

nanami steps in then, not entirely convinced gojo would hesitate before laying him out. "you can put the measuring tape away, idiot."

shinya is being an impressively good sport, but your anxiety has you emptying glasses in a hasty manner, too. you have no idea what's going on with gojo. you understand that he can be abrasive at times and that communication definitely isn't his strong suit, but his behavior is just absurd. you force an awkward laugh at nanami's comment.

"not that i'm not having, um, a great time and all!" you hiccup before continuing. "but i'd really like to dance. c'mon shinya!"

nanami and shoko wind up joining you both, which comes as a surprise. neither of them are exactly the partying type (not that you are either), but you're happy to see them having fun. honestly, you can't remember the last time either of them let loose.

you wonder if they also just wanted to escape gojo's snide remarks. now that they aren't ringing in your ear every other minute, your nerves have certainly calmed down a bit. well, until—

"so you do know that he's totally in love with you, right?"

"who?" you question, looking around as if it'd be obvious.

and it is, just not to you.

shinya chuckles. "gojo."

"what?" you bellow, completely dumfounded. "no way! i mean he's not— and i'm not— we're just friends."

"yeah?" he still sounds amused, nodding in gojo's direction. "is that why he looks like that?"

turning toward your table, even you have to admit he looks completely miserable. unbeknownst to you, he's spent the last half hour sending away every woman that approaches him asking to dance. he just isn't in the mood right now. at least, that's what he tells himself.

"er.. he just doesn't get out that much," you try your best to brush it off.

"whatever you say, baby."

you're relieved he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the idea, even if you find it completely implausible. it's true you spend a lot of time together and that you know one another like the back of your hands, but you'd given up any hope of it being more than friendship a long time ago. you'd moved on.

but if that's the case, why did shinya calling you baby suddenly feel so wrong? you convince yourself it must just be the alcohol.

when the four of you finally stumble back to the table, you realize you've missed last call. though it's probably for the best, as the five of you are certainly in for a nasty hangover the following morning.

it's near closing time, but the crowd has hardly thinned out and the music is still beating loudly in your ears. you're going back to jujutsu tech with your friends rather than home with shinya, so you loudly exchange goodbyes over the music as he gets ready to leave.

"i had a really great time tonight," he tells you. "maybe we could go for dinner tomorrow? there's something i've been wanting to ask you."

"okay!" you agree eagerly, eyes shining. "i'll call you in the morning."

gojo feels his stomach drop, his jaw clenching bitterly. he tries to tell himself to relax because this is what you want, but he just can't seem to get his thoughts straight.

shinya leans down, his lips meeting yours sweetly, and it causes white hot anger to flood gojo's body. it all happens so fast, shinya's ripped away from you with astounding force and he staggers backward. you've been struggling to hear over the noise all night, though you make out each word that follows with striking clarity.

"get the fuck away from her!"

gojo stalks off before anyone has time to process what just happened. he's already half way across the room when you come to your senses.

"'toru!" you call out, taking a step in his direction when he doesn't respond. "satoru!"

you take another step but you're stopped when something pulls you back. you look down to find shinya's hand wrapped around your wrist before your gaze turns up to meet his eye. "look, i really like you, but if you go after him, don't bother calling tomorrow."

the ultimatum is simple, but so is your decision. "i'm sorry."

you run off before he can say anything else, shoving your way through the bar patrons, and follow gojo out the door into the cold air of night.

"satoru!" you shout once more, thankful that his pace is slow enough for you to catch up. he turns to face you when you tug on his sleeve.

you nearly shy away from him, his expression something fierce, but the liquor in your system gives you courage. "what the hell was that? you embarrassed me—"

"i don't fucking care," he spits.

he's never taken such a tone with you, so you throw your hands in the air and exhale impatiently. "what do you mean? you should care! you're my friend, aren't you?"

"that's exactly what i mean. you're supposed to be mine," he growls.

you're not sure how it happens, but the next thing you know, his lips are crashing into yours, your teeth knocking together with the force. his hands paw at your hips, pulling your body against his greedily.

"i can't believe," he mumbles against your lips, "you wasted your time," his hands find your hair, tugging your head back and revealing your neck, "with that fucking loser."

once he's finished speaking, his lips trail across your jaw, landing just below your ear. your eyes flutter open and you're suddenly very aware that you're standing in the middle of a public sidewalk.

"'toru," your voice is breathy, even though you're trying desperately to keep it together. "there are people—"

he pulls away heatedly, his eyes narrowed. "you didn't care when he kissed you in front of everyone."

"yeah, but that was just a peck," you reason, though if he keeps this up, you're worried you might lose your resolve.

"tch, i guess you're right." the familiar sensation of warping through space and time sweeps through your body for a few seconds before your feet meet solid ground again. you don't need to look around to know you're in his bedroom. "we're going to do a lot more than that tonight."

your stomach flips at his words, heat rushing to your core. his lips find your neck once more, leaving sloppy kisses along your skin. "that's what you want right? for me to show you who you belong to?"

you nod weakly, feeling as if you're in a daze.

"ah, ah. use your words, sweetheart."

"yes— ah—" he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone before nipping the delicate skin there. "yes, 'toru."

"then get on the bed," he orders lowly.

and who are you to disobey? you can't honestly say you haven't been dreaming of this for years. his blanket feels cool to the touch, making you realize suddenly how much your skin is already burning with desire.

he kneels beside the bed, wasting no time before pushing up your dress and pulling your legs apart. you see his shoulders fall as he exhales harshly at the sight. his eyes flutter shut when he presses a kiss to your core over the tiny cotton panties you decided to wear.

he's rudely reminded of the possibility that you may have put them on with another man in mind.

"did you let him fuck you?" he interrogates. his eyes don't leave yours as he begins placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh.

"n-no!" it's almost embarrassing how vehemently you deny it, but the man between your legs takes great pleasure in your response.

"mm, knew you were a good girl."

he hooks a finger beneath your panties, pulling them down excruciatingly slow. you buck your hips up once he throws them off to the side.

"feeling eager, princess?" he taunts, his breath fanning across your center.

you nod, your legs shaking with anticipation, before remembering what he said about using your words. "please, 'toru. need you so bad."

he can't possibly deny you, not when you beg for him so sweetly. he presses a soft kiss to your swollen bud before flattening his tongue against it, drawing circles there. he groans when your slickness coat his chin.

you whine when his eyes shift up to meet yours and push yourself against him even further. he chuckles against your skin, but truth be told, he's just as eager as you are. he slips one long finger inside of you, relishing in how easily you take it.

"oh—" you cry out as he adds another finger, his tongue pressing against you just a little harder.

his other hand is gripping your thigh roughly, the flesh spilling between his fingers. one of your arms is supporting your weight, but the other reaches out, your fingers threading through his hair.

you're panting now, tugging on his white locks in pleasure. he moans in response and the way your walls are clenching around him lets him know you're close. "c'mon baby, cum for me."

that's all it takes for you to unravel, his name falling from your lips over and over. he doesn't stop until he's sure you've come down from your high.

"you tasted so perfect," he tells you, unbuckling his pants in a hurry and shoving them down his legs.

his shirt and boxers follow quickly thereafter, so you pull your dress over your head. you can't tear your eyes away from his cock, it's long and thick and pretty.

he pushes you back against the bed and crawls on top of you, but then he just stares down at your face. just as you begin to wonder if something is wrong—

"you're so fucking beautiful. have i ever told you that?"

your mind reels for an answer, but you don't have to worry about it for long, as his lips capture yours. you can taste yourself on his tongue

"tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips as he moves his cock along your slit, coating himself in your wetness.

"need you, 'toru. p-please, i need you to fuck me."

he smiles against your lips as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside slowly. he leans back to find that your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted in bliss. he's determine to seer the image into his mind forever.

splitting you open is absolute ecstasy, the noises he's making are proof enough of that. "fuck, princess. fuck."

he nearly whimpers when he bottoms out. "god, you feel so perfect. i could stay in this pussy forever."

your legs wrap around his waist once he begins to pump in and out. "never felt so full, 'toru. it feels s'good."

he shudders at your words and laces his fingers with yours, sweat beading on his forehead as he picks up his pace. his head dips down, his teeth nipping the skin of your neck aggressively.

"p-people are gonna see—"

"i want them to," he rumbles. "want everyone to know how good i made this tight little pussy feel."

you can't argue with him, not when this is the best anyone's ever made you feel. his head shifts even lower, his tongue moving along your nipples in a way that has your back arching off the bed.

he uses the opportunity to snake an arm beneath your lower back, holding your body against himself firmly. the new angle has you mewling his name in the most sinful way.

"you're takin' me so well. like you were made for this cock."

your head's lolling to the side as you fall to pieces beneath him and he can feel himself getting close. "look at me when i fuck you, baby."

you do as he asks, his hips stuttering when he sees the tears of pleasure swimming in your eyes. "you're mine, aren't you? tell me you're mine."

your pussy clenches around his cock so tight it's almost painful. "i'm yours, 'toru. all yours."

"fuck, that's my good girl. gonna cum for me again, hm?"

you nod up at him meekly, too far gone for words, but he doesn't seem to mind this time.

"'i'm close too, sweetheart." his fingers reach down to rub circles on your clit, eliciting a throaty moan from you.

you feel your stomach tighten and you're nearly there, but you don't go over the edge until he begs, "can i fill you up? want to so bad."

you can't find the strength to respond, so you hope the way you tighten your legs around his waist and claw at his back is answer enough.

your head rolls to the side once more, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning you to face him. "please, baby. wanna see you when i cum—"

he hums your name through a choked moan, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reaches his own high. he collapses on top of you, laying there for a moment before pulling out and rolling onto his back beside you.

no words are shared, both of you trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. the silence gives your mind a chance to wander, which is never a good thing.

you consider the fact that gojo's never kept a girl around for more than a week or two— that this probably meant way more to you than it did to him. you sit up feeling stupid and wrap your arms around your chest.

you look around the room in search of your panties, his cum running down your thighs when you stand up to grab them. it's not until you pull them up your legs that he opens his eyes. he props himself up on his elbow, furrowing his eyebrows when you pick up your dress.

"what are you doing?" he asks curiously.

"well, i figured i should go back to my room—"

"what, are you crazy?" he gawks at you. "get your ass back in this bed."

you approach him shyly, your apprehension clear to him. "i mean, you can if you want, but why would you go back to your room?"

"i just didn't know if you... you know.."

"no, i don't know." if you knew him any less, you might think he was intent on torturing you, but it's clear to you that he's genuinely confused.

you sigh. "i just didn't know what this meant for us."

"baby, i didn't think i could make it any more clear." he sits up to grab you by the wrist, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. "i'm all yours, so you're stuck with me." he tries to mask the nervousness in his voice when he asks, "is that okay with you?"

you nod, hiding your face in his neck. "took you long enough."

#m!writes!smut #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk smut

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xxsabitoxx · 5 months

Text

Fushiguro Megumi hates it when you get injured.

Something about it, no matter how big or small the injury is, just gets under his skin and pisses him off. Which comes off has him being mad at you, unfortunately. It’s not his intention, fuck no, he’s just so upset it happened in the first place.

It’s not till you get injured bad that you realize he’s not mad at you, rather, he’s mad at himself. There is a lingering guilt in Megumi’s eyes when you get hurt, as if he failed you.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?” You had questioned late one night, laying in an infirmary bed with an IV in your arm because Shoko’s technique and the curse’s attack were not working well together. Meaning you were on strict bed rest until you were fully healed. Megumi hated that too, of course.

He didn’t answer, instead he flipped the page of his book with pursed lips. “I’m talking to you, Meg. It’s rude to ignore.” That got to him, closing his book slowly as he dragged his eyes up the bed to look at you. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

You repeated your previous statement, knowing he heard you the first time but he wouldn’t answer unless you asked again. “Yeah.” His tone was low, not convincing whatever. “Liar.” You shot back, moving your arm to rub your tired eyes.

Megumi watched the tube move with you, the dark liquid slowly dripping from the bag down the line and into your veins. “I’m not lying.” He nearly spat, anger bubbling in his gut at the sight of the retched medical machinery you were hooked too.

You sighed, “I’m sorry for getting hurt. I know it’s frustrating and all but li-“ but Megumi was cutting you off with a near incredulous look. “What?” Was all he said, leaving you to blink at him as you tried to wrap your head around his confusion.

“Y-you’re mad cause I’m careless, right? Because I keep weighing you down by getting myself injured?” You stated this as if it were factual, watching Megumi’s face morph into one of genuine bewilderment and mild offense.

“No?! What the fuck makes you think that?!”

"Because... you don't talk to me for like three days after the fact?" Megumi couldn't exactly fight you on that. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it really did come off that way. "I...shit no that's not..." he tossed his book on your bed, hands coming up to rub his face as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not mad at you. I've never once been mad at you for getting injured. I just..." he sighed, turning to look at you now "...I just get frustrated with myself. I don't like seeing you hurt, it makes me feel like I didn't do enough. Then, I sit here promising myself to do better for you the next time we go out on a mission together, and then we end up right back here. With you in a hospital bed."

Megumi's face had turned a shade of pink. He always felt fidgety having these kinds of conversations. Especially with you, especially about his feelings. "Oh..." you started, mulling over his words carefully before sighing. "You can't beat yourself up over this stuff, Megumi. It's my life and my choice to be a sorcerer. Getting hurt is part of the job." You watched him shift in his chair.

"I know it's part of the job. I just don't like seeing you get hurt. Especially when I'm supposed to be supporting you. We're supposed to look out for each other on these missions and I keep failing you." Megumi's eyes darted anywhere around the room, hands folding neatly as he tried not to seem nervous.

"Megumi." You stated it bluntly, praying he'd look up. He did, of course, he did. For some reason, he couldn't deny you when you said his name like that. "C'mere." you whispered, motioning him to sit on the edge of your bed. He listened, getting up to move the small distance and trying his best to keep you stable as the bed dipped.

"You can't go on with your life quietly beating yourself up for things that are out of your control... and mine for that matter." Your hand carefully reaches up to touch his cheek, smiling at the warmth burning under your fingertips. Megumi looks at you, head-turning reluctantly. "I love you too much to let you feel guilty."

Quiet. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The look on Megumi's face was utterly priceless. Pure disbelief. No way he heard you correctly. His tired mind and sore back must be playing tricks on him. "You... what?" He croaked, brows furrowing in denial. You smile, huffing out a laugh. "I said I love you, Megumi."

He wasn't sure how to act in that moment. Every word he could think of was fizzling out before it could reach his mouth. Instead of killing himself trying to respond verbally, Megumi did the only thing he could think of. A surprised squeak left you as his lips pressed against yours, hands shaking as they gingerly cupped your cheeks.

The kiss itself lasted maybe twenty seconds, leaving you a little breathless from being unprepared as he pulled away. "I... guess that means you love me too?" you teased him, a grin on your face. Softly, Megumi huffed out a laugh before responding.

"Yeah, it means I love you too."

Started this a few days ago and didn’t even realize it was Megumi’s birthday today! So, happy birthday, Meg :)

Hope you enjoyed! - May

#banner from cafekitsune #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #fushiguro #jjk imagines #megumi imagine #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi fluff #happy birthday Megumi :)

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wilchur · 8 months

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I've seen a lot of people talk about how the game doesn't give you any leeway when you play The Dark Urge, how it makes it very clear that Durge was A Bad Person, but I haven't seen it pointed out that Sceleritas seems VERY well versed in gaslighting the hell out of them and steering Durge away from any doubt or guilt in regards to their actions. Makes me think that they've probably had those types of conversations before because Durge actually always had a soft spot, only it got smaller and smaller in time. I have not had the opportunity to see the Heal cutscene yet, but I've got the butler in my camp now and he had some interesting things to say, like

[Durge: Can you tell me the worst thing I ever did?

Sceleritas Fel: There was one time you gave a beggar some coin while we were en route to the Devil's Fee.

Sceleritas Fel: You didn't kick him or spot on him or anything! I was so shocked I almost fainted!

Sceleritas Fel: I still have nightmares about it to this day. But I'm sure you only did so to lower the suspicions of the Flaming Fist. Surely?]

and it struck me because tossing a coin to a beggar is a bit of a thoughtless act isn't it? You don't put much thought into it, you just see someone in need and you do it. Out of empathy, generosity, something The Murder Incarnate should not be capable of. Sceleritas' uncertainty of Durge's reasoning for it totally convinces me it was NOT intentional. A simple act of kindness that slipped out.

ALSO

[Sceleritas Fel: The only way for a Butler to die is if we are not of use to our Master. But you have always needed abundant assistance.]

They always needed abundant assistance. Why? Because they kept slipping out of Bhaal's grasp? We know they did at least once, with Gortash. Maybe it was not the first time, maybe there are more "Letters of Forgiveness" tucked away somewhere.

To me pre-tadpole Durge is just terribly mindbroken and indoctrinated person hooked onto the sense of safety, purpose and acceptance of their dark side that the cultists and their father give them. Yeah they enjoy murder, gore and all that. That's the curse of their blood, but I don't think they were ever entirely consumed by it. Morality, guilt and empathy have always been there on the edge of their mind. Losing their memories (depending on player choices I know, but bear with me) was what they needed for them to be finally brought forward.

#i am very normal about this #its 3 am #i just hate the “inherently bad baddie character” trope sorry #durge is my little meow meow #imagine everyone treating you like a monster all your life because there's something Wrong with you #and then these wackos come along and are like “actually its all good we love you please do more of that”#unconditional acceptance is one hell of a drug lemme tell you #that's exactly how all those repugnant online communities get created #the dark urge #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #durge spoilers

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

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Imagine pretty boy Steve trapped in a mirror for his vanity.

Except he grows as a person so much that his sole purpose becomes boosting self-esteem of everyone looking into the mirror (unless they're being an asshole in which case, bye any semblance of personal worth).

"Looking great, Dustin, go and get them! Oh wait, move your tie slightly to the left, that's it, good job buddy, go go go!"

"Seriously Robin, there's no way your lady isn't all over you the moment you step in that restaurant. Did you wear smudge-proof lipstick? Time to test it."

"No, Nance, it's not weird to ask your ex-boyfriend if you look presentable, I mean, who else is better qualified? Good choice of dress for the interview, you're going to ace it."

"El, it doesn't matter how long your hair is. Yeah, it was so pretty, but it will grow back. But you know what else? You have gorgeous eyes, a wonderful smile and the way you say "mouth-breather" is everything. As long as you have that smile you'll be the prettiest girl around, so don't you dare worry about it."

"Mike, stop looking like someone stepped in your birthday cake, you're a handsome young man and Will is going to love the new haircut. If I'm wrong, feel free to come back and spread mustard all over my frame, but I've yet to be wrong. Yeah, you're a bit of an asshole too, now go and get your boy!"

"Joyce, you're as beautiful as always, but from what I know about Hopper, he'd think you're the most beautiful person alive if you were wearing a potato sack. But this dress is perfect and you look so happy. I wish you all the best on your date!"

"Yeah Jason, looks aren't the issue here...nothing I can do to help you all the ugly stuff on the inside buddy. Sure, smash the mirror if you want - good luck by the way, it's fucking cursed for a reason - but that won't make the truth hurt less, huh?"

And then Eddie accidentally steps in front of him and Steve has never seen anyone so unaware of his own beauty. And Eddie seems to be the only one apart from Robin who realizes how lonely he sometimes gets so he often takes Steve with him no matter where he goes (the big van is handy) and Steve makes sure to shower him with compliments, gradually finding exactly the right doses and right words to make Eddie understand how special he is, how radiant his smile looks, how he's so animated when he talks about things he loves-

And on the day when Eddie looks into the mirror and finally sees himself just as Steve sees him, the mirror cracks and Steve falls out, disoriented and kind of terrified, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-?!

But Eddie just smiles at him and hugs him, the first human touch in such a long time it makes Steve tear up. "Finally!" exclaims Eddie and pulls him even closer. "No shame at all Stevie, but that frame was fucking heavy!"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #stranger things #stranger things au

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esteljune · 30 days

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Imagine being on the couch with Soap, his body entrusted to you without hesitation.

His crested head resting against your sternum, his broad back pressed against your stomach as the boy's calloused hands cling to your thighs.

Despite being together for a while, Johnny is still nervous to talk to you about his work because there's not much he can tell you, and he's afraid that even that little bit might push you away from him.

He doesn't doubt his own conviction, but he knows it's a choice that doesn't belong to you. He manages to spit out some information about his explosives training, his sniper training, and why they call him Soap.

When he realizes that you don't care whether he's Johnny or Soap, but that he'll always be safe with you, he can't hold back his tongue. He feels a million things, some he's never felt before, others he wouldn't even know how to name.

"Would ye believe me if I told ye I've never been as nervous in front of a bomb as I am now talking about my work tae ye?" he confesses impulsively.

"Yes. Your heart is racing, Johnny." you smile tapping your index finger on his left chest.

"Ah... Away n' bile yer heid." he curses under his breath, because it's true.

He manages to control his breathing and heartbeat long enough to put a bullet in someone's head from dozens of meters away, but he can't control himself in front of a simple conversation with you.

#this again is part of my fic #I'm not really okay with asking you this but if you have a wattapad account and want to support my writing you can fin the link in my bio #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap #soap mactavish #soap squad™️#soap x reader #soap x you #cod x you #cod x reader #Cod #call of duty #my writing #call of duty modern warfare

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chuluoyi · 7 months

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heartbreak hotel

- gojo satoru x reader

so you're going on a three-day-two-night getaway trip with the one and only Gojo Satoru. the catch? you two have just broken up.

genre/warnings: crack, jealousy, a dose of pettiness, hurt/comfort, fluff, zero angst i promise, suguru being a good buddy to his boyfriend best friend

notes: inspired by a very real life story :))) anyways, it takes place in an au where suguru never left and all is well with our little meow meow catoru the wonderful colored manga panel by the talented @redbluenight! this was so much fun to write (that it turned into a whopping 3k+ word, so sorry) and i even made a playlist while on it ;)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"He's intolerable!"

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with Gojo Satoru, but if asked one word to sum it, then that was it.

When you started this thing with him, obviously you had never planned on how it would end―who started a relationship with that sort of mindset anyway? But if you could choose, you definitely wouldn't want it to end with dramatic shouting match that left you in tears.

Anyways, some things were just not meant to be. You refused to spend your whole life crying over that smug bastard, and so you moved on.

However, if there's one thing you've learned about plans, it is that whenever you already make a foolproof one, the world always has some funny way to mess it up.

Like this time.

"I... I remembered saving for months," you stammered dumbly, staring blankly at Shoko in front of you. The realization felt like a spiritual ascent. "I paid for that damn plane ticket and hotel with my whole saving. I can't just throw them away."

How could you possibly forget about this? This graduation trip that had been planned between your group of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and yourself for months now. It was meant to be a getaway, a celebration of your most significant achievement after four years of barely getting by on exorcising curses and not dying in the process. This was supposed to be the ultimate milestone celebration in your life.

"Then don't," Shoko replied simply, twisting the cigarette in her mouth. "I'm still going though. No way I'm wasting that money."

"But!" you vehemently hissed. "He will be there. It means I have to see him for three days straight!"

Your cringeworthy breakup happened just barely a week ago. You had sworn in front of Gojo Satoru that you didn't want to see his face again, and yet in less than a week from now, you and him would literally share the same space―again?

"Can't I get a refund?"

"This late? Nah, it's like yay or nay at this point."

You slumped in frustration. Were the gods making you swallow your own words now? You were left with no other choice. Your frugality and tendency to get broke often compelled you to make the decision.

You were going on this trip whether he was there or not.

Meanwhile, on his end, the said smug bastard was brooding, groaning and pacing over the same predicament. Satoru had two options and had weighed them all, and somehow he still arrived at the more seemingly no-good decision.

"I'm going, duh!"

"You are?" Suguru asked with a hint of surprise in his voice. "Well, might be the first time I've seen someone agree to go on an overnight trip with his ex..."

"Hmph. I just don't like squandering money."

Suguru snorted, unimpressed. “Satoru, you have an entire fortune. The airfare is just an amount you'd donate to charity. Besides, you have wasted more than that.”

“Well, I want to enjoy my youth too! I’m going—who cares if she’ll be there!”

He was still miffed, recalling the day your argument spiraling out of control. How could you say those hurtful things to him?

“You never take things seriously—heck, I’m not even sure if you’re ever taking me seriously at all! Satoru, you’re always acting all high and mighty, but you’re just a selfish little twat!”

No way. The last time, he was left in the dust, not being able to say anything in his defense. So now, he would use this chance to be the one who had the last laugh. He was going, because he was 70% sure that you wouldn’t let your hard-earned money go to waste.

And he was right when two days later, he found you at the airport with a bitter scoff upon seeing him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he moistened his lower lip in that obnoxious way. “Missed me?”

You walked past him, tone lacing with disdain. “Get lost, Gojo.”

He couldn’t help the prickling sensation in his chest when you dismissed him just like that. And the use of his last name—whereas you used to call him with all sort of available pet names? Now that was just low.

“Nah, you can’t get away from me that easily, Y/N,” Satoru sniggered. “You’re going to see me for the next three days, so suck it up and enjoy the sight,” and then the idiot proceeded to pump his fist in the air. “Wooo! Kyushu, here I go!”

Suguru and Shoko merely observed your icy interactions in silence, occasionally exchanging glances from time to time.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 1 — BEACH DAY @ SEASIDE HOTEL

After the three-hour flight, the four of you arrived at Karatsu, one of the main highlights in your trip—or back then, one you and Satoru handpicked yourselves.

You swore you still had your heart frozen for him, so you didn’t know what stirred it when you saw him giggling and doubling over in carefree delight, surrounded by those beach girls in skimpy bikinis.

“Hey, handsome~ is this even okay?” one of the girls in pink thong scooted closer to him, asking him with this cheap seductive grin. “Won’t your girlfriend be mad?”

At that moment, you could’ve sworn Satoru threw you a glance from the corner of his eye before replying with a triumphant bark. “What girlfriend? I’m wholly and happily single!”

The hell?

A rush of squeals grated your nerves as they swarmed your ex-boyfriend, prompting you to stalk away in irritation.

Absolutely not. You wouldn’t let this fine establishment be your heartbreak hotel any longer.

Gojo Satoru knew fully that he was petty. He let you see that on purpose just to rile you up, because frankly, he still felt like he didn’t deserve your messy breakup at all.

But when you were no longer in his eyesight, suddenly the urge to entertain these strangers dissipated, and what remained was this hollow sensation in his chest. You not paying him attention somehow made him crave it all the more.

He recalled how you pointed out that playing in the clear waters would be your ideal graduation gift. He specifically recommended this place himself and you had agreed. He remembered planning all of this, dragging Suguru and Shoko too just to make it merrier. To keep that cute smile on your face.

You were supposed to fool around with him in the clear waters of Matsubara Beach, splashing and pulling him underwater.

And yet in reality, he was toying with these questionable women and in your eyes, he was nothing but an irritable twat.

He didn’t see you again until evening, during dinner time. And the sight before him made him want to pull Suguru to the side and trap him inside his unlimited void.

"Really?" Your clear voice rang in his ears, every bit the same as when you would energetically question him with those doe eyes of yours, as you peered at Suguru. "We should go together tomorrow then!"

His eyes twitched.

What has his life come to? Reduced into seeing his ex-girlfriend possibly going on a date with his best friend?

He almost hoped that you'd stage up your pettiness level. It was worse because unlike him, you didn't make this up just to gauge his reaction.

That night, in their shared hotel room, he ignored Suguru completely, as well as silently waiting for him to divulge where he and you were going tomorrow.

"Hey Satoru—"

"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."

It was obviously a wrong move, because Suguru apparently caught the hint and stayed quiet as a mouse throughout the night.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 2 — HOT SPRING @ KUMAMOTO

Or at least, last he remembered, that was the agenda.

Until he saw that only Shoko who was there, idling around at the hot spring area.

"Where are the others? Why is it only you here?"

She shrugged. "Geto said he's going to try the local specialties. Dunno where. As for me, I'm going to enjoy this onsen to the fullest."

Shoko noticed his irritated scowl, and a sly grin crept across her face.

"Heh, jealous much now, Gojo?"

Meanwhile, you and Suguru went to various dessert shops in town as per his invitation. Perhaps he took pity on you because you really seemed not to be having any fun at all after you stormed off from the beach area yesterday.

"Mmm! This is tasty!" you remarked, munching away the three-colored dango happily. You were so engrossed in eating today that you no longer had any room to think about anything else, which was a good thing.

Suguru smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself now." However, he appeared to have something on his mind, prompting you to hum and tilt your head in curiosity.

"No, it's just... so it's really over between you and Satoru?"

You let out a snort. "Yeah. Totally. He's an ass."

"He really is miserable, you know..."

"Nah, he doesn't look like it."

Your friend sighed. "Honestly, what was the argument even about? Both of you usually didn't take it this far."

You didn't want to go back to that topic, really. But Suguru was always the one with cooler head, and after his kindness today, maybe you could spare him a detail or two.

"It's a lot of little things that have piled up, you know," you mumbled. "It's probably just how he is, and I know. But I finally reached my boiling point. Why can't he try to see things from my perspective? Everything that's important to me doesn't seem to matter to him, and relationships need two people, not just one who resigns and the other who does anything he pleases."

And until now, you doubted if Satoru even realized what he did wrong. That was what hurt you the most. Like you were so small in his eyes, like he could toy with you and get away with it.

As you expected, Suguru would understand your point. "So that's how you feel... Yeah, I think I get it."

You thought he would end it at that, but then he went on. "I'm not defending him, Y/N. I think some time away from you would do him good, but later, maybe you can talk this to him? See if he will understand?"

"I already did, so many times." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Not to offend you, but it awfully seems like you're defending him, Suguru, despite you saying otherwise."

"I'm saying this because sometimes we can forget that Satoru is different," he explained sympathetically, and to be honest, you were surprised by his statement. "He is born exalted. He has a hard time comprehending things that come to us naturally. I just think it's a pity if... you can actually fix this, but just because bad communication, you lose the chance to."

Have you properly communicated this to him? Now that you thought about it, most of the times you would just get mad and point at the little things he missed, but never actually told him how it made you feel.

Your mind was still muddled with the fact Suguru had shed light on even after you got back to ryokan where you were staying for the night. The two of you were in for a surprise though as apparently there was a festival happening there.

Everything seemed to spark with glitters. The bamboo lanterns, lights, the gentle breeze. It created an undeniably romantic ambiance, to be honest.

You didn't know when Suguru slipped away, but suddenly, you found yourself alone amidst the visitors and dim lights.

And you found yourself to be immensely lonely.

Satoru spotted you in all your solitary glory amidst the sea of people in this godforsaken place.

No, actually it was a pretty great inn and attraction, but this trip had been horrible so far, and so he just felt everything was bad.

But at that moment, bitterness no longer clouded his mind, because you were so beautiful, bathed in the glow of the lights that Shoko had forcibly dragged him to see. If it were up to him, he'd spend the last night sleeping his heartbreak away, but now that he was here, he was thankful to see the dazzling sight of you that reminded him once again just what made him hopelessly in love with you.

And why he didn't get his sorry ass back into your good graces faster.

He retraced everything had brought both of you to this point. Your last fight was about what again? Him not telling you any news when he would be back from a mission?

No matter how he thought about it, it was a trivial matter. So what made you mad? He kept thinking, and then he imagined switching places with you. What if you didn't text him at all for three days straight? How would he feel? Oh, he would be despondent, of course.

Now he was starting to understand. He had done that so many times he could no longer keep count. Granted, you would be angry.

Satoru suddenly know how to rectify this. He can make things right. He would be damned if he didn't. He just had to pull you aside, and he was going to when he lost sight you in the crowd.

Okay, now he was frantic, as the longer he didn't see you, the more his opportunity to make amends slipped away. He moved through the crowd, pushing people in the process, earning ire and questionable glares and yet he cared none for it.

He nearly cursed at how his phone kept vibrating incessantly inside his pocket. Begrudgingly, he took it out and almost gasped.

You are calling him.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was so incredibly stupid. You just went to pee for a bit and then somehow got yourself locked in the toilet. It might have been fine, but then the lights unexpectedly went out, scaring the shit out of you.

How could such a upscale inn experience a sudden power outage and have doors that wouldn't budge? It was worse when no matter how many times you punched the switch or banged the door, it refused to turn on or open.

You were trapped. Honestly, it took everything you had not to cry.

And so you did the next best thing aside from forcing your way out. You called your friends. First, Shoko, and then Suguru, but both of them somehow didn't pick up the call even after you had called them three times each.

That left you with one possible person left. In your frenzied mind, it didn't even register in your mind what you were doing as the line connected and the last person you'd call on the other side answered.

"Satoru," you shakily breathed out, almost crying—or were you already? You didn't know as you focused on his sharp intake of breath, most likely surprised at how rattled you sound.

"Y/N? What? What is it?"

"I—" you wheezed, hating how helpless you sounded, yet still forced the words out. "I'm locked, it's dark—and it's just so—help! Help me please! I tried getting Shoko but she didn't—"

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Calm down, okay?" Satoru's voice brought you some comfort and it helped to reduce your tears, missing how he slipped up by calling you with his usual pet name for you. "Tell me. Where are you?"

"The women's restroom… I think it’s in the east wing."

"I'm coming, okay? Don't panic. I'll be there. Just stay on the line."

You heard his ragged breaths as he muttered several "coming through!" and "excuse me!" from where he was. It made your heart lurch. Despite the spiteful breakup, he rushed to your aid as soon as he realized you were in some kind of trouble.

Was this okay, to let your relationship end just like that?

"I'm outside." And then you heard his voice, much to your relief. "Y/N? Are you there?"

"Yes!" you shouted over the steel door.

You then heard how he rummaged to get the door open, and faintly hear him cursing it. "It won't open."

You wanted to sob, but then Satoru told you with an absolute tone, sounding so sure and demanding that compelled you to comply. "Get away from the door. As far as possible. Take cover."

Oh God, was he going to do what you thought he might do?

...he did. The next thing you knew, the door—and much more than that—was destroyed, and a rush of cursed energy was everywhere. After the blast subsided, you instinctively made a run for it, and you didn't know how, but you ended up stumbling into him.

Satoru caught you in his firm embrace.

"It's okay. You're okay," he cooed, whispering in your ear gently, urging your shivering body to calm down. "You're safe now, Y/N... I'm here. You're safe."

There was always something about your trembling form that made him want to tear down everything and anything in his path just to make you feel secure. And there was always this sense of rightness whenever you snuggled in his arms. Both desires clashed in a contrasting need and want and Satoru could do nothing but keep you close to him, torn between the two.

He kept his hand on your spine, and you clung on him, burying your face in his broad, sturdy chest.

Nevermind the fact that you technically broke up with him. Nevermind that ever since this botched trip started, it was the first occasion in which the two of you held a proper conversation without spewing bravado or sarcasm.

Afterwards, he led you away from the site, and he figured it would be best to go somewhere quieter rather than the festival, and so here you were, at the deserted lounge.

You had calmed down for the most part, and slowly you felt heat in your cheeks. In hindsight, you could've tried using cursed energy to blast the door too, why didn't you think of that earlier?

And yet, unaware of your internal musings, Satoru's thoughts were occupied with another matter entirely, and blame it on his insensitivity—he chose this moment to drop it without hesitation.

"I want you back," he declared, void of any hesitation. "I'll be better, I promise. Those things you hate—tell me, and I'll make sure not to repeat them again."

He wasn't the sharpest when it came to picking up on your feelings, but Satoru vowed that if it bothered you that much, then he would do his best to avoid doing it.

But you... you were still trying your best to grasp the situation. Amidst the plot twist you just experienced tonight, his blatant proclamation was the last thing you expected so you only managed a "What?"

He held your gaze, eerily serious. “I don’t want to break up. It’s hell. We can—I can still fix this.”

He looked sincere, unlike the usual empty promises he’d give you after you went off on him. And suddenly, you understood.

“…really?”

“Yeah. Just give me another chance. I’ll prove it to you,” Satoru said, visibly impatient now. “I won’t give you up. This literally is the fight of my life right now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. If there was anything that you had learned tonight, it was that apparently you and him were still salvageable.

“And how will you prove it?”

“Just so you wait and see, sweets. I’m gonna relight your feelings!”

It was beyond corny that he took a line from your favorite song. And both of you burst into a laughter at the sheer silliness of it.

You sighed, but this time of relief, in stark contrast to your earlier sighs that afternoon. You were giddy as a smile perched on your lips. “Fine. Let’s give this another shot.”

Satoru felt the tension in his shoulder melt with your answer. A genuine, wide smile emerged from the bottom of his heart and lit up his face.

“Now, this whole trip has been kind of terrible so far, don’t you think?” He made a brief pouty face for a moment before reverting to his mischievous grin His remarkable expressiveness—reminiscent of a child's, in your opinion—never ceased to fascinate you. “I have a pretty good idea where we should go next.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Tomorrow’s our last day.”

“No freaking way!” he exclaimed, whipping out his phone to launch the travel agency app. “We are going to redo our graduation trip. This time just the two of us!”

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with your dork of a boyfriend, but as you reflected on it, you realized that there were also many reasons for you to stay together, especially when he reached for your hand and held it firmly in his grasp.

You were unable to contain your excitement and bubbling with melodious giggles that he adored so much as he whisked you away from Kumamoto in favor of the last bullet train to Kyoto, where your long-awaited true vacation would begin.

Epilogue

“I told you this was a horrible idea. I fucking told you.”

"Can you blame me? Dude was about to throttle me in my sleep."

"Geto," Shoko scowled, her disbelief at his simple answer evident as she gestured wildly with both hands towards the wrecked lavatory, emphasizing her point. "Look—now that he had gone and done it, we're the ones footing the bill for the destruction of property!"

Gojo had blasted the washroom with a freaking Red. And the innkeeper promptly held both Shoko and Suguru responsible since their roommates were captured on CCTV and had vanished without a trace.

Suguru rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I genuinely thought it was a good idea. I didn't expect Satoru to go overboard though," then he threw her a stink eye. "And hey, you were complicit in this too!"

Shoko mumbled a string of curses as she pulled out her phone, snapping some pictures of the undeniable evidence of Gojo’s doing, and then made a call. Suguru frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reporting him to the headquarters!"

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songsofadelaide · 7 months

Text

cw/tw: sickfic, fluff, reader has she/her pronouns, gojo being a little silly. wc: 666

"She's down with a fever, so don't get any ideas, Gojo."

"Wh— You talk as if I'm going to do something nefarious to her, Shoko!"

"Nefarious, no, but idiotic, probably. Do all of us a favour and steer clear of her in the meantime. We don't want others catching this bug."

They say fever dreams are usually unpleasant, but why was this some kind of replay of one of your favourite high school memories instead? Favourite except for the fact that you were sick.

"Y'know I've never really actually gotten sick before because of my infinity and all…"

A cool hand is pressed to your burning forehead, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as you come into contact with it.

"Yikes, she's actually burning up!"

"That's why I told you to stay away. If you or anyone else catches this, I am going to lock you all in the morgue for all I care."

"You'd do that to her?!"

"Not her, of course!"

Getting sick is probably one of the worst things that could ever happen to you. Some days, you can't seem to sweep your condition under the rug, no matter how hard you try to be normal about it. A cold was starkly different from being cursed and it was such a normal thing that Shoko had no other choice but to treat it normally— by telling you to drink your meds and get some rest.

Nanami said he'd handle your pending mission, so rest you did.

There was nothing at all restful about having to stay on campus, though, with Shoko saying she could keep a better eye on your condition there. You felt like the walls and the halls already knew so much. The happiness of your youth, the sadness and anguish of having friends perish before your very eyes, and the bittersweetness of your first love.

"Pain, pain, go away…"

Your first love that seemed to stalk the halls of the magic college, for some reason.

"Come again another day…"

The humming sounded far too real now to be a dream, even more so when the same cool touch was pressed to your forehead again. "Ah…"

"It's okay, you can sleep some more."

In fear you may be in delirium, you opened your eyes and found Satoru seated right by your bedside, a wet towel and a basin of water right next to him. "Satoru?…"

"Sorry. Did I wake ya?" He asked, though you couldn't get a read on his expression with that ridiculous blindfold over his eyes. "Heard from Shoko that you were sick, so…"

"Didn't she tell you not to come over?" You said with a sigh.

"No need to be so worried about me. I've never really actually gotten sick before because of my infinity."

"I know, I know. You've always been too invincible."

He brushed his cold knuckles over your forehead once more, finally drawing out a tired smile from you. "Do you want me to grab you some ice water or something?"

"No, I'm good…" You told him, gently holding him back from moving away from you. When he realised what you meant, he placed his hand over your forehead again. "You're like a popsicle."

It was his turn to chuckle this time. "Ramune flavour?"

"Exactly."

Satoru slightly moved to reach for your hand, clammy as it was, his cold fingers curling around your warmer ones, and somehow, you can't really tell if all of this is real.

"Satoru…"

"Yeah, sweets?"

"Can you pinch my hand or something? I feel like I'm in high school again and I'm dreaming all of this up. After all, I like you so much that I might even be hallucinating."

He squeezed your hand with just enough force as if asking, is it real enough yet?

"…Real," you sighed and nodded to yourself. "Sorry…"

"Whatever are you apologising for?" He grinned at you. "You think I don't like hearing about how much you like me, even from before?"

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 4 months

Text

Cherry Wine. aka - Cherry, Part Two.

everything feels like love when you're drunk... right?

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. characters who wouldn't even recognise their own feelings if they smacked them in the face.

word count - 3k

author's note - I love it when people walk each other home... if you couldn't tell. I think some of our most honest conversations happen on the street at 3am. thank you so much for all the love on Cherry!! I hope you enjoy this part two. friends to lovers might just be my favourite trope ever. it gets me everytime :(.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics <3. thanks, angels.

part one. part three. series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

His eyes are glued to you.

They have been since he watched you pour just a little too much cherry vodka into your red plastic cup.

He keeps trying to catch your gaze across the smoky room, multicoloured lights clouding his vision. There's some sort of punk song playing through a stereo system somewhere, the beat of the guitar thumping through the wooden floorboards and into Steve's bones.

You're laughing, head thrown back at something Eddie has said. He's funny, Steve thinks. But not that funny. He watches carefully, refraining from intervening right up until the moment you almost trip over your own foot and into the curly haired boy. Steve's moving across the room before he can even process it.

"Cherry," he teases, hand snaking around your waist to hold you upright. "You okay?"

You turn in his hold to throw your arms around his neck, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Stevie."

You say his name so sweet that he stumbles and almost takes you down with him.

"You okay?" you giggle.

"I'm good. You good?"

"I'm good."

You sway with him for a second, closing your eyes and revelling in the warmth of his hands on the bare skin of your waist.

"You're a little tipsy, huh?"

"Just a little."

"You wanna go home?"

You chew on your lip for a moment, weighing up your options.

"Can we go to your place? I don't wanna face my parents like this."

Steve leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair back from your face.

"Of course. Let's go, hm?"

"Let me grab my jacket. I'll meet you by the door."

You slink off upstairs, leaving Steve alone with Eddie.

"Just friends," Eddie mocks under his breath quietly.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

Steve stares at his friend with a brow quirked, stormy look on his face.

"All I'm sayin' is - I don't look at my best friend like that. Don't hold 'em like you just did. Don't have sleepovers either."

"I've known her since we were kids. It's different."

"I've got friends I've known since kindergarten. I don't kiss them on the forehead."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Steve mumbles, finished with the conversation. "Whatever, man. You don't get it."

"Oh, I get it. You're in love. Steve and Cherry, sitting in a tree-"

"Don't call her that."

"See? You're defensive over her nickname, because you gave it to her. Don't be an idiot, Steve. Life's too short."

"Yours will be, if you don't shut up."

Eddie takes that as his cue, shaking his head as he leaves to go and complain about the music choice.

Steve meets you outside, chuckling when he sees you shivering as you hold your jacket.

"Cherry, put your coat on. You're freezing."

You look up at him, slightly bewildered, and he fights to keep the smile off his face. Taking it from your hands, Steve slips the jacket around your shoulders, hands skimming up your arms to warm you.

"Better?"

"Better."

You slip your hand into his and begin to walk away from the noise, finally taking a deep breath when you're down the street.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, nudging him with your shoulder. "Feet hurt though. Fuckin' shoes."

You both stop, Steve kneeling down in front of you to unbuckle your heels. You look at him questioningly and he winks, cheeky and full of love.

He slips them off your feet and sits down on the curb, taking his sneakers off and gesturing for you to step into them.

"No, Steve. I chose to wear these, it's my own fault."

"I know, and they looked cute. But now you're going to wear these."

You step into the shoes reluctantly, holding back tears when he kneels and ties your laces tightly. Rising to his feet, he presses a kiss to your forehead before intertwining your fingers again, picking up your heels with his other hand.

You're both quiet, as you walk. Neither of you needs to say anything. It's always been this way. Steve's not good with silence usually, but with you, it's more than comfortable. Sometimes, you'll sit for hours in his bedroom doing your own things, content to just know the other person is there.

"Minnie Lawson kept asking about you tonight."

You try to keep the disdain from your voice as best you can, praying Steve doesn't pick up on it.

He does. He doesn't mention it.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

You keep walking, smiling occasionally when you catch sight of Steve's socked feet next to yours.

"What did she say?"

You mentally kick yourself for bringing it up, but take a deep breath and tell him anyway.

"Kept asking if you were single."

"And what did you say?"

"Told her she needed to ask you herself and that I'm not your secretary."

Steve cackles at this, loud and endearing. The sound makes you grin, whether you want to or not.

"Shit, Cherry baby. What did the girl ever do to you?"

"I didn't mind when she asked the first couple times, but the more she drank, the more she forgot. She couldn't remember if she'd already asked so kept asking again."

He laughs again, squeezing your hand where it still holds his tightly.

"She didn't talk to me."

"Didn't think she would."

He looks at you for a moment too long, your eyes meeting the floor to avoid his gaze.

"Mikey was asking about you tonight, you know."

You'd had a crush on Mikey in ninth grade, the summer after he'd gotten tall and started to look less like four walking limbs and more like a man. He was a nice guy, if not a little boisterous sometimes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Said you looked pretty. Wanted to know if you were still with the Douchebag."

You chuckle at the hatred in Steve's voice at the mention of your ex boyfriend.

"And you said..."

"That he was in the wind, thankfully."

"Dodged a bullet with that one."

You lean into his arm, savouring the warmth of his skin you can feel through your jacket and his long sleeve shirt.

"Mikey wants to ask you out."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Is that so hard to believe? You're a catch, you know."

"I don't know. Boys like Mikey never look at me, usually."

"I look at you."

Your breath hitches in your chest. It's like your heart has forgotten how to beat.

"Yeah," you whisper. "But you're Steve."

After a moment, you add,

"My Steve."

You rest your head onto his bicep, still clutching his hand. He leans down to press a kiss into your hair, resting his cheek there for a moment.

"You're worlds apart from boys like Mikey, Steve. He's nice, but he's not you."

You're not sure where all this sudden truth is coming from, but you're wondering if the cherry vodka has maybe hit you a little harder than you first thought.

"And you and Minnie Lawson aren't even in the same league. You've got nothing to worry about."

You both process Steve's words, before he starts stuttering.

"I mean, not that you, not that - it's not like you were worried, I'm sure. I bet you weren't. I just mean... you know what I mean, right?

Thankfully, you do.

"I know what you mean. I always do."

He stops walking, turning to face you on the sidewalk, hand never dropping yours. You're not sure where you are, but you know Steve knows. He'll keep you safe. Always.

"Okay," he breathes.

"Okay," you breathe.

"I love you," he breathes.

"I love you," you breathe.

"I don't want you to date Mikey Carter," he breathes.

"I don't want you to date Minnie Lawson," you breathe.

You both inhale deeply, following the other person's lead.

"I can't stop thinking about the other night," Steve whispers, so quietly you'd have missed if it you weren't so in tune with him.

Your lungs constrict for a second, all the air leaving you at once.

"Me neither."

You're stood in the street whispering to each other, frightened you'll burst the bubble you've accidentally created.

"I feel bad," you confess.

"Why, honey?"

"Because I... I didn't return the favour. I just let you get into bed and fall asleep. Sorry."

Steve's hands come up to cradle your face, eyes searching yours as if he's reading his favourite book.

"I didn't want you to. I told you, it wasn't about me, it was about you. I didn't... I didn't initiate it so I could get something in return."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologising, Cherry. You've got nothing to apologise for."

"Sorry," you reply without thinking, causing both of you to double over into fits of laughter.

Steve wipes the happy tears from your cheeks, gaze never leaving yours. You look at each other for a moment, feeling the atmosphere shift. The world could collapse around you both, and neither of you would notice. It's just you and Steve. Nothing more, nothing less.

He leans in gently, pressing his lips to yours in a featherlight kiss. He tastes like beer and spearmint.

"You're wearing your lipbalm."

"You've been chewing your gum."

He chuckles, kissing you again softly.

"You wanna go home?"

"Please. You're in your socks, and I look like a clown."

He looks at your feet and laughs, the sound much too loud for the early hours of a Sunday morning.

"Let's go, Cherry baby. My warm bed awaits us."

The stars guide you home hand in hand, Steve stealing the occasional kiss when you happen to be looking in his direction. You kick off his shoes by the door, running straight up the stairs to change out of your uncomfortable dress. Steve stops by the kitchen to grab you both a glass of water, bounding up after you and spilling half the liquid in the process.

He stops in the doorway when he reaches his room, breath caught in his throat. You're stood in just your panties, bare back to him, rifling through his drawers to find the soft grey shirt you always steal.

It's a sight he's seen before. Something is different this time.

"Where is it?" you ask, not turning around.

You know he's there. You know he knows what you're looking for.

This is what love is, he thinks suddenly. The knowing. The unknowing. The knowing that the other person knows. The other person knowing that you know. Unspoken knowledge.

"Bottom drawer, left," he chokes out. "Washed it."

You slip it on and turn around, pouting. The boy quirks a brow at you in question.

"Doesn't smell like you. Smells like your detergent, but not you. Will you wear it, when I leave?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, fighting the blush from rising across his chest. "Anything you want, baby."

Steve shrugs off his clothes, slipping on a fresh pair of boxers before sliding into his side of the bed. You're in the bathroom, humming a tune that he can't quite place but knows he heard tonight. He watches you through the open door as you sway gently, ready to jump up and catch you if need be. You pee with the door still open, and Steve chuckles. It's like you've been married for twenty years.

"Can you please turn the fan on? I'm hot."

"Anything for you, Cherry Pie."

You jump into your side of the bed, sitting up to face the boy next to you. It might be 3am, but you're both wide awake, veins buzzing with endless possibility.

"I've been thinking," you murmur quietly.

"Never a good sign."

"Shut up."

You both laugh, and you can't help but grin. What a miracle, you think. To be alive at the same time as a boy like Steve Harrington. To know him. To love him.

"Will you let me return the favour?"

It's a vague question, but Steve knows exactly what you're asking. He chokes on his breath, tilting his head to look at you.

"Babe, you don't have to-"

"-I want to. So badly."

Steve inhales deeply, willing himself to calm down.

"I don't have to, if you don't want me to. But I can't stop thinking about the way you'd taste."

The boy thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Dreaming, maybe.

"Honey... fuck."

Steve nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Please. Jesus."

He's breathing so frantically, you're worried he might pass out. The last thing you need is your best friend unconscious.

"Breathe, Stevie. It's just me and you."

"Me and you."

"Always."

He comes back down to Earth, so you lean in to kiss him, all tender and cherry flavoured. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you push him backwards so he's leaning against the headboard. You straddle his hips, plush lips pressing into his neck, his chest, his collarbones. Steve's practically melting, a puddle of love and affection beneath you.

"Let me take care of you," you whisper into his ear, and who is he to deny you when you ask so sweet?

You crawl down his body until you're situated between his legs, thick thighs bracketing you in. You kiss along the inside of the muscle, nipping as you go and revelling in the way he jumps and hisses. It's nice to be the one in charge for once.

You scratch your nails along the bulge in his boxers, smirking when his hips buck up into you. You think, for a moment, that you'd happily lie here and tease him like this for hours, just to see when he'd snap. But this isn't the time for games, so you store that thought for another day.

"This still okay?"

"More than okay," he replies, all breathy and ungrounded. You link your fingers with his and squeeze, and all his nerves melt away.

You don't let yourself begin to think about why he's nervous. You know Steve's a ladies man, you know he's done this many times... so why is it different with you? You wonder if maybe you should talk about it afterwards. You're not sure if either of you are ready for that.

Mouthing at him over his underwear, you hum in contentment at his warmth. He's always run hot, every part of him. It's one of your favourite things.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug them down, throwing them onto the floor somewhere. The room is dimly lit by the lamp on the nightstand, the lightbulb casting shadows across Steve's slightly sweat damp skin. The fan acts as a soundtrack, white noise breaking up the silence.

You look at him and bite your lip, buzzing with anticipation. It's not like you haven't seen each other naked before, but it's different like this.

"Just... tell me what you like or what you don't like as I go along, okay?"

Steve smiles in adoration, running his thumb over your cheekbone gently.

"Okay."

You wrap your hand around him and curl your wrist, holding back a smirk when the boy whines. It's a pretty sound. You'd like to hear it again and again until he loses his voice.

Leaning in, you lick up the length of him, groaning at the salty musk. His taste, his scent, his sounds... it's all so Steve. He's the centre of your universe, everything around you just Steve Steve Steve.

Taking him fully into your mouth, a hand flies into your hair, tangling his fingers. He doesn't move you, just tethers himself to something real, something grounding. You take him as much as you can, working up a rhythm between your tongue and your hand. Steve's breathing as if he's just ran a marathon, chest heaving and lungs burning.

He finds his voice, suddenly.

"Oh fuck, baby."

"Shit, Cherry. Fuck, just like that."

"That's it, atta girl. Perfect girl. My girl."

"Oh, you're so good. So fucking good."

He tenses, fingers tightening in your hair once again.

"So close, baby. Don't stop. Please."

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist in that way you've figured out he likes as you hollow your cheeks and suck. The boy sees stars, vision going white.

The noise he lets out as he finishes will be forever engrained in your mind, a never ending symphony that no orchestra could ever recreate.

He goes lax, collapsing back against the bed as you swallow, never breaking eye contact. You stick your tongue out as proof and he groans, deep and gutteral.

"Kiss me," he chokes, too blissed out to move.

You crawl up his body and press your lips to his, squeaking in surprise when he slips his tongue into your mouth to taste himself.

"Filthy," you laugh, resting your forehead against his.

"You love it."

You shake your head, but can't wipe the grin from your face.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

After a second, you giggle.

"What's funny?"

"I'd like to see Minnie Lawson do that."

Steve laughs, loud and melodic in the low light of the room.

"She's got nothing on you, Cherry baby. No one does."

You process the words, heart stuttering in your chest.

"We should talk about this," you whisper.

"We will," he assures, tugging you into him so your head is resting on his chest. "Tomorrow."

Lines have been crossed, lives have been changed, but the stars above your heads remain the same. They'll always guide you back to Steve.

The lamp flickers, the fan hums, the crickets sing their night time lullabies.

The boy leans down to press his lips to yours. He tastes like cherries and every kiss for the rest of your life.

@allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @enigmaticloki

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x bestfriend reader #steve harrington x bestfriend!reader #bestfriend!steve harrington x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff

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youunravelme · 11 months

Text

the worst wing-woman

author's note: just like all my other fics, we are existing in an alternate plane where tito was never traded. also i've never worked for the nhl, so i have no idea how accurate being a photographer is but guess what. idgaf. also sorry for the amount of italics in this fic, i have no self control apparently. and shoutout to my new friend @dani746 for helping me with this monstrosity.

summary: you've been in love with mat barzal for as long as you can remember, so what do you do when he asks for your help to win over your friend?

pairing: mat barzal x islanders photographer!reader

warnings: cursing and low self esteem

despite working for the isles for two years now, you still got nervous walking into work.

you weren't a stranger to the team, some of them you knew quite well. anders and marty being two players you were friendly with (mainly due to the fact that you were somewhat friendly with their wives). but there was always one player who eluded you, who you'd only ever had professional interactions with.

mathew barzal.

and it shouldn't be surprising, you were a measly photographer whereas he was the star player of his team, the winner of the calder trophy, an nhl heartthrob. why should he pay attention to you?

media day was one of your favorite days, mainly because it was the closest you ever got to holding full conversations with him. not that the conversations went anything beyond "look right here" or "great job, mat."

you didn't even think he knew your name.

the longest conversation you had with him consisted of him asking to see the photos you took and patting you on your back when he liked what he saw before he went off to talk to tito.

"you having a good day?" you nearly jumped a foot in the air when your staring was cut off by anders walking up to you.

"yeah," you said when your heartbeat returned to normal. "just busy is all." you held your camera up as if that was enough of an explanation.

anders nodded. "any of the boys giving you a hard time?"

you shook your head rapidly. "nope, they've all been on their best behavior."

"even barzy and beauvillier?" at the mention of their names, the duo turned their heads and locked eyes with you and anders.

you wanted to dig a hole and die in it.

"what about us?" mat asked, sauntering over with his best friend right behind him.

"you haven't been giving her a hard time, have you?" anders crossed his arms. and if you weren't panicking at the closing distance between you and mat, you might've noticed the shared smirk between the three hockey players in front of you.

"us?" tito asked. "why would you think that? we've only ever been angels."

before anders could ask you to corroborate tito's story, your name was called. you awkwardly waved to the three men before walking over to another set of props, ready to photograph another hockey player.

"done embarrassing yourself?" your coworker tyler asked.

you lightly shoved his shoulder. "shut up."

"seriously, you're not his type," he added. "he's not gonna go for you."

tyler might as well have stabbed you in the gut with how much his words hurt you, but you put a smile on and nodded. "yeah, i know. i know."

and you did.

you knew.

but you'd be delusional for a little while longer if it meant going to work wouldn't suck every day.

later that night, you found yourself at a bar with a group of your friends. you didn't want to go originally, but when alexa said she needed to go out to get over her ex, you felt like you had no other choice.

which is how you found yourself sipping a soda water in a booth while your friends danced and took body shots.

your gaze wandered around the bar aimlessly before you checked your phone for the time.

you'd only been there for an hour.

it took all self restraint not to bang your head against the table.

"having fun?" your head snapped up at the familiar voice only to see anthony beauvillier standing at the edge of your booth with a self satisfied smirk.

"i--"

"i didn't take you as one to go out drinking on a weeknight," he said.

you slumped into your seat. "i'm not. my friend alexa wanted to go out because her boyfriend just dumped her and she wanted a distraction."

anthony took the seat opposite of you. "and that is...?" he gestured at your drink.

"soda water," you answered. "i'm the DD for tonight."

"oof," he groaned before taking a sip of his beer. "that's rough."

you shrugged. "it's not that bad, i'd rather my friends get home safe than get drunk and show up to work hungover."

anthony nodded in a way that you'd seen other men do, the type of nod that comes right before someone looks around for someone more interesting to talk to.

"but what about you?" you rushed out, nearly tripping over your own words.

tito smiled. "what about me?"

"why're you here?"

he shrugged. "mat wanted to come out and didn't want to go out alone, so here i am."

mat.

you wanted to vomit.

"oh," you mumbled. "mat's here?"

tito nodded and gestured with his bottle to the bar. "he's over there talking to some brunette."

you followed with your eyes and when you finally locked eyes on him, you wished you hadn't.

he was talking to alexa, smiling at her the way you wished he'd smile at you.

maybe you could leave the bar and get hit by a taxi on the way out, that would be less painful than seeing the man you're in love with flirt with your friend.

"you okay?" anthony asked, nudging your leg with his foot.

you turned your gaze back to him and attempted to give him your most convincing smile. "i'm great!" you said before throwing your soda water back and coughing when the carbonation burned.

anthony didn't say a word.

when you looked back at the bar, alexa was nowhere to be found while mat was fiddling with one of his wristbands. you looked around to find alexa, thinking maybe she was in the crowd dancing or perhaps she was in line for the bathroom.

but she popped up at your table, sweaty and smiling.

"you good?" she asked before fixing her eyes on anthony who was sipping on his beer. "who's this?"

"anthony. i know him from work." tito gave her a small wave before taking another sip of his beer.

"alexa," she smiled before her attention focused back on you. "i actually met one of your coworkers, mat right?"

you forced a smile and nodded. "the one and only. what did you think?" though, to be fair, you didn't really want to know her opinion on him. not when you thought the world of him.

alexa shrugged and tossed her perfect hair over her perfect shoulder and gave a perfect smile that was a healthy balance of nonchalant and mildly interested. "he was alright, he knows he's attractive which is rather unattractive if you ask me."

tito choked on his beer while you stared in awe.

of all the words you'd use to describe mat, "alright" was not even close to the top 25.

"something funny?" alexa asked.

"nope," tito supplied, shaking his head. "nothing at all."

alexa looked at him, unconvinced, but didn't let it bother her. "i'm gonna go dance, you coming?" she asked.

you shook your head. "not really my scene."

alexa nodded and pranced off to the dance floor where the rest of your friends were grinding on strangers to the tune of some 2000s pop song.

"she's a delight," tito said.

you sighed. "she's practically miss america." you were too busy staring at her having fun to notice another person walk up to your booth until he was standing right in front of you with a question posed on the tip of his lips.

mat.

your mouth went dry at the sight of him.

"you know her?" he gestured over his shoulder to where alexa was laughing with one of your friends.

you nodded.

"are you two close?"

you shrugged.

mat sighed. "are you capable of speaking?"

tito spoke up. "mat, you just bombarded her without a single hello, chill."

mat pinched the bridge of his nose. "sorry, i just--she rejected me and i don't know why."

"you're too attractive and you know it," you blurted out before you could stop yourself. you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth like that would stop any other bullshit that might come out.

mat tilted his head and leaned in. "huh?"

"her words, not mine," you said like it would absolve you of any guilt.

"what do you mean by being 'too attractive' and 'knowing it'? how does that even make sense?"

you shrugged for what felt like the twelfth time that night. "alexa's not really into guys who are obsessed with their appearances. she just got out of a relationship with a guy like that," you explained.

mat ran a hand down his face before placing both hands on his waist. "so what do you suggest i do?" he groaned.

"i--"

he snapped his fingers and looked at you for what felt like the first time. it sent a chill down your spine that you had a problem suppressing. "can you help me?"

your mouth dropped open. "huh?"

"you're friends, right? can you help me win her over?"

you could list about a thousand other things you'd rather do. you could think of five just off the top of your head.

but he looked so earnest and willing and how could anyone possibly resist him when he looked at you like that--

"of course!" you smiled.

of course?! yes would've sufficed but now you've got him thinking you'd enjoy this. which you most certainly wouldn't.

oh who were you kidding? all attention was good attention when it came to mat barzal and you'd give anything to keep him looking at you.

"thank you!" he smiled before clapping tito on the shoulder. "ready to head out?"

anthony nodded before addressing you. "i had a nice time. see you tomorrow?"

you smiled and nodded, giving them both a small wave as they walked away. the second they were out the door, you thumped your head against the table.

playing wing-woman for mathew barzal.

what the fuck was wrong with you?

how to be a wing-woman: a guide

usually when you went to work, you kept your head down and stayed out of the way. occasionally, you'd run into anders or marty, or maybe even tito, who would say their polite hellos, but for the most part you stayed out of the way during practices.

you were looking at the photos you just took when someone banged on the glass. a quick glance (that turned into a double take) let you figure out it was mat based on the 13 on his jersey and the fact that you could pick him out of a crowd anywhere.

he waved and smiled (and you might've died inside). "can i talk to you after practice?"

you nodded frantically before gaining a semblance of self respect and slowing down.

"great! meet you outside of the locker rooms!" he said before skating away.

"what was that about?" tyler asked. you turned, not even realizing he'd made his way towards you considering you thought he was on the other side of the arena.

"what? can't i talk to the players?"

tyler laughed. actually laughed. "considering barzal has never so much as looked at you, i'd say him approaching you during practice is pretty strange."

your shoulders sunk at the weight of the truth. "if you must know," you started. "he wants to date one of my friends, so i'm helping him out."

tyler laughed again and walked away without saying another word while you scrolled through the photos you took again until practice ended.

you headed towards the locker rooms only when the last player had been off the ice for ten minutes, you didn't want to chance waiting around too long looking like an idiot.

as you waited, you made a mental note of all the editing you'd have to do when you got back to your cubicle. you got a few good shots earlier, but they'd need some tweaking before you sent them to the social media team. in fact--

"hey, what're you doing here?" you glanced up and saw anders, hair wet from whatever brief shower he took.

you shrugged, not sure if it was your place to give away mat's intentions. "just waiting around."

"for?" he pushed.

"barzy needs her to play wing-woman," tito said from over anders' shoulders. "he wants to get with her friend, but her friend isn't interested."

anders threw his head back and laughed. "barzy not getting a girl? that's fucking hilarious."

tito smirked. "tell him what your friend said" he told you.

"she doesn't like that he knows he's attractive," you mumbled.

if it was even possible, anders laughed even louder. "un-fucking-believable."

"what's so funny?" mat walked up, running a hand through his damp hair.

you said "nothing" at the same time anders asked "you got rejected, barzy?"

mat's face dropped before looking at you and tito accusingly. anthony sighed and nudged his best friend. "chill out, barz. she didn't bring it up, i did."

mat's shoulders relaxed before he punched tito in the arm. "dick," he mumbled.

anders looked between the three of you and sighed. "i don't have time for this shit," he said. "i'll see you later." and he was off down the hallway.

"so what's the plan for today?" tito asked.

"you're not included," mat said. his gaze focused on you. "can i have your number?"

you blinked. "what?"

mat laughed a little and you could feel heat and shame running up your spine. he asked you one fucking question and you had to go act like a weirdo. "so i can text you? i think we should sit down and create a strategy."

you nodded and read off your number as he typed it into his phone. "great," he gave you his megawatt smile. "i'll text you."

"okay," you breathed out as he walked away without a thought.

tito kept standing there, smirking to himself. "you're so fucked," he said.

you nodded because there was nothing else to say.

step one: talk him up

you and mat got lunch two days later on a saturday when he didn't have a game. it was rather surreal, sitting across from him in public. the delusional part of you was begging you to imagine this as a date instead of a meeting to set your friend up with mat.

when did your life turn into something so pathetic?

"okay," he started. "tell me about your friend."

you would rather do anything else.

"she just got out of a long term relationship with this guy named jared. he was a bit self absorbed which is probably why she didn't like you knowing how hot you are." you paused as the words left your mouth, ready to set yourself on fire if he reacted. but he didn't, he only leaned in closer to listen. "she uh--she likes daffodils and goes to the farmer's market at union square every saturday."

"but what's she like?" he asked. "what's her personality?"

how would you say she's the trademarked cool girl? the girl every guy wanted, that mat was one man in a long list of men who tried and failed to win her over.

"she's sweet and affectionate," you started. "she pretty girly on the outside but knows her way around a car. she grew up with three older brothers so she knows a fair bit about sports, just not hockey, but if you wanted to talk stats about football or basketball, she's your girl. in college, she held the record for fastest shotgun in her sorority."

you racked your brain for more information about your friend, but it was difficult under pressure to sum up someone you'd known since freshman year of college.

"what else?" mat asked.

"she's a bit of a partier, but knows how to settle down and just chill. she's a really good friend, like last year i dated this guy who was cheating on me the entire duration of our relationship, which i should've known about because he said he had to go on business trips all the time but he worked as a barista, and she held me while i cried for three days straight and even threatened to fuck up his car."

mat stared at you without saying anything in a way that made you want to sink into a hole, never to be seen again. "you dated a barista and thought he needed to go on business trips?"

you blinked. "that's what you got from that? me dating a shitty barista?"

he shrugged. "i heard everything else, but that was definitely the funniest part. how long did you date him?"

"six months," you replied quickly. "but that's not the point! alexa is going to play hard to get because she doesn't want anything too serious right now."

"great! neither do i!"

"but she's not a one night stand kind of girl anymore. so if you want her, you have to prove to her you can be serious enough for a relationship but not serious enough that you get clingy and overbearing and propose within six months."

mat blinked at you. "how the hell does that make sense?"

"believe me, there's a balance."

he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "and you would know this how?"

"well i uh--" you sputtered. your nerves were only encouraged by his light chuckling. "all girls know these things! we don't want overly possessive boyfriends but we also want someone to care. it shouldn't be that hard to comprehend."

"it's not," he defended. "just a little...complicated, don't you think?"

"alexa's a complicated girl!"

he sighed and ran a hand down his face. "okay so how do i show her i mean business but that i'm not looking to settle down and get married?"

"i guess i could talk you up to her in passing conversation?"

"what would you tell her? we don't know each other very well."

"i know more than you think!"

"please, share with the class."

shit.

do you confess that in the two years you'd worked for the islanders that you watched him borderline obsessively?

"well, i know you're good with kids, if your interactions with young fans is anything to go by. you don't like dogs, which is a bit of a red flag in my book, but alexa shouldn't mind. you're a fantastic hockey player, and a great teammate."

"is that enough to convince her?"

you grimaced and shook your head. "she's a bit more personable. she one time broke up with a guy because he was rude to waitstaff. she would want to know how you treat non millionaires and authority figures. for instance, how much do you tip a server?"

"25%," he replied. "but why does that matter?"

"alexa used to be a server throughout college and couldn't stand people who she knew had money but would cheap out on the tip because she didn't greet them fast enough."

mat opened his mouth, presumably to ask another question, when his phone started ringing. "shit," he mumbled. "listen, i gotta go. it was nice talking to you, i'll be in touch." he pulled out a few twenty dollar bills and put them on the table before getting up and walking away.

you waited for the server to come back before paying the bill and told them to keep the change before you got up and walked home.

when you got back to your apartment, alexa was already standing at the door, waiting to be let in.

"finally," she said. "i was wondering when you were gonna come home."

"you could've texted me," you said while unlocking the door.

she followed you inside and shut the door behind her. "i could've, but your phone was on do not disturb for some reason, so i doubt my texts would've gone through in time. where were you anyway?"

"getting lunch with a friend from work," you replied.

alexa groaned as she all but collapsed onto your couch. "please tell me it's not tyler. i hate how he treats you."

you dropped your bag by the door and headed back to your room, but not before calling over your shoulder. "he's not that bad, he's like that to everyone!"

"doesn't make it any better!"

you changed into some comfortable clothing before joining alexa on your couch. "did you have fun the other night when we went out to the bar?"

alexa looked at you weirdly.

shit. you must not have been as subtle as you thought.

"i did," she said. "but what makes you ask."

you shrugged. "i know it's been rough with your breakup lately, but i saw you talking to mat and you looked happy."

alexa groaned and sunk into the couch. "i thought we talked about this already. he knows he's attractive, it's such a turn off. you should've seen the way he was talking, it was like he knew that if he gave me a look, i'd be going home with him."

"well he's really nice, i promise! you should see him with kids at the stadium--"

"you mean the kids who idolize him? yeah i bet he's real nice to them."

okay, switch strategies.

"he tips waitstaff really well!"

"with what he makes? he better." alexa sighed. "listen, i'd be more impressed if he could tell me anything about you, but seeing as you've worked there for two years and he couldn't tell me anything other than your name the other night says all i need to know about him. so can we talk about something else?"

you nodded, ignoring the jutting pain in your chest at her words. you knew well enough that mat knew nothing about you, why would he? but to hear it come from the mouth of someone else stung.

getting them together was gonna be harder than you originally thought.

step two: get them interacting

you were dreading the next time you saw mat for the first time in your life. you were in your cubicle editing photos from the game that night to be posted tomorrow to distract yourself from the inevitable conversation you'd have to have with him. tyler, unfortunately got the shot that was posted immediately to the islanders' instagram account to celebrate their win over the rangers and he had no problem letting you know it. and while it was annoying, it served as a great distraction from your other problem.

"maybe you'll get it next time," he sneered as he packed his bag. most days you hated the fact that you were cubicle neighbors, but neither of you were powerful enough to request moving spaces. and even if you could, you knew it would just make you look hard to work with.

"have a good night, tyler," you replied, not even wanting to give him any ammo to use against you.

the door shut behind him with a click, locking you into sweet sweet silence.

until a minute later when your phone went off with a text message.

mat barzal: where ru?

mat barzal: wanna go to a bar with me and tito and you can bring alexa?

you scoffed. "you can bring alexa," you mocked under your breath. "like that's not the sole reason for you asking me to go out tonight." you packed your bag up and shot a quick text to alexa, asking if she wanted to go out. she replied with an immediate yes, asking where to meet you, which prompted you to reach out to mat who sent you an address in response.

which is how you ended up on a sidewalk in front of an incredibly busy bar with alexa next to you.

"i've never been here," she remarked. "how'd you hear about it?"

"oh, a coworker mentioned it," you said in what was hopefully a nonchalant manner.

she looked at you a moment too long before grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. "you find us a place to sit and i'll grab our drinks!" she shouted over the music.

you quickly looked around for mat and tito, the former who'd texted you the second they arrived. you saw a head of dark hair and immediately knew it was mat. you hurried over, panting when you arrived from having to shove your way towards them.

"you made it!" anthony said. you looked at him and mat, eyes bouncing back and forth between them, when you realized your first problem.

they were sitting on opposite sides of the booth.

which meant you would have to sit with one of them, and alexa would have to sit with the other. if mat had it his way, he'd sit next to alexa, but you knew your friend wouldn't have that. she'd feel manipulated and uncomfortable.

"is there a problem?" tito asked.

you gestured to the booth. "alexa will want to sit by me. she's still not convinced about you, mat."

mat, to his credit, didn't look shocked or offended, he just shrugged and moved to tito's side. "this work?" he asked as you sat down.

you nodded.

"so what's the plan? how should i approach this?" he asked.

"keep the conversation on her, when she tries to turn it on you or about your career, focus on other people, applaud your teammates, your coaches, but whatever you do, don't talk about yourself too much. she already thinks you have a big ego."

"to be fair," tito started. "he does."

mat didn't even dignify that with a response. "so keep the conversation on her and others, got it."

alexa found you a moment later and didn't do a great job covering up her disinterest in sitting with mat and beau.

"i couldn't find anywhere to sit," you explained.

alexa didn't buy it if her eyes bouncing around the bar to find empty tables said anything. but she sat next to you anyway, placing your drink in front of you.

"you remember mat and anthony from the other night, right?" you asked.

she just hummed and took a sip of her drink.

"so, alexa," mat started. "what do you do for a living?"

she stared at him and sighed. "i'm a vet tech," she said, but offered no other information.

"she especially loves the cats," you added.

"cats are great!" mat said a little too enthusiastically.

alexa drained the rest of her glass and got up, leaving the three of you behind.

the second she was gone, beau broke into laughter, slapping his own chest. "that was fucking hilarious," he said.

"yeah yeah yeah, laugh it up," mat grumbled, swirling his cup around instead of making eye contact with anyone.

"i'm serious, i don't think i've ever seen you fail so quickly. it's kind of amazing."

mat focused his eyes on you. "what did i do wrong? i tried asking about her life and she seemed wholly uninterested."

you shrugged. "i don't know! maybe she feels cornered?"

tito took a sip of his beer. "i think you need to workshop this. clearly, neither of you thought this through."

you groaned and rested your head on the table.

this was already harder than you anticipated.

step three: reevaluate and regroup

you met mat in a booth of a coffee shop after you got off work. he was staring at his phone when you walked in, completely unaware that you even existed.

which wasn't abnormal considering you didn't even think he knew who you were a few months ago. but the second the barista called your order out, his head whipped up.

you could've sworn time stopped at that moment.

you made your way towards him and plopped down in the booth opposite of him.

"hi," you smiled. "what's up?"

"i don't know what to do, she doesn't seem interested in me." he groaned into his hands before running one of them through his hair.

god he was so attractive.

you snapped out of your reverie. "listen, you've got what it takes, we just need to reevaluate our strategy. i think the bar thing was a bad idea, she felt ambushed and it probably set us back a little, but i have an idea."

he leaned his forearms on the table. "let's hear it."

"practice dates," you said.

mat blinked once. twice. a third time before he spoke. "practice dates?"

"okay hear me out," you said, pulling a notepad out of the bag you brought. "i have a list of things that alexa likes to do and i was thinking, you and i can do them and work on conversations and how to approach her. so when the time comes, you don't feel out of your element."

"who said i feel out of my element?"

you stared at him. "you said last night 'cats are great!' and expected conversation to flow naturally."

"okay so not my best moment."

"not even close." you sighed. "listen, i wanna help you, and i feel like this is your best bet in winning her over."

mat ran a hand down his face. "okay fine. what's the first date?"

practice date one: pumpkin patch

to be quite frank, you were nervous when proposing the idea, scared that he wouldn't be willing to sit in a car with you for three hours just to get to the pumpkin patch. and maybe he would find it childish.

when in fact, he said nothing about the long car ride, he even offered to pick you up from your apartment, and laughed when you offered to pay for gas. when you finally arrived, you jumped out of mat's car like an excited child. mat stepped out like he knew he was the romantic lead in a movie, suave and collected.

you two could not be more opposite of each other.

it took everything in you to focus on the task at hand, and not fall deeper in love with him. but how could you not? when he looked so boyfriend in a coat and flannel and beanie and jeans that hugged his thighs just right--

you were getting ahead of yourself. you were doing this for mat and alexa, not your own selfish ambition.

"so what's the plan?" he asked after locking his car with the key fob.

you shrugged. "what would you do if you were here with alexa?" the words tasted bitter in your mouth. it was such a painful reminder, knowing that this wasn't real and was in service to hook him up with your friend.

mat looked around and shoved his hands in his pockets. "corn maze?" he pointed. you must've made a face because he spoke up again. "what?"

"alexa hates corn mazes."

he paused. "to the pumpkin patch then?" you nodded and followed his lead. "so how did you meet alexa?"

"she was my first roommate in college, we shared the smallest dorm in history."

"that sounds like an exaggeration."

"says the man who never went to college."

he laughed. "i don't need a college education to identify a hyperbole when i hear one."

you gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. "a hyperbole? what a word."

"laugh it up," he said. "but i'm not a complete idiot, you know."

"never said you were. i just haven't heard anyone use hyperbole in a sentence outside of my english lit classes."

"well, you should know i'm full of surprises."

the two of you approached the pumpkin patch and started weaving between families and the occasional rogue toddler. mat had to tug you out of the way a few times when you about stepped on a child because you were gazing at pumpkins.

"if you don't mind me asking," mat started. "why are you helping me? you don't owe me anything. i feel like i'm taking advantage of your kindness."

you shrugged. "you wouldn't be the first one."

"what's that supposed to mean?" you looked up from the pumpkin patch to see mat's brows furrowed together and his mouth twisted in a cute frown.

"well, i mean, i've been told i have a habit of being a doormat at times."

"who said that?" his tone had changed to a softer one.

"huh?" you asked.

"who called you a doormat?"

you shrugged again, that seemed to be your go to move around him. you squatted down to look at a particularly fat pumpkin, inspecting all sides of it before you responded. "i've heard it all my life, some have said it in meaner ways, others have been nicer about it."

"i'm sorry," he said.

you stood to your full height which was still much shorter than mat's. "why? it's not like it's not true."

"what if i helped you?"

it was your turn to frown. "help me? with what? ice skating?"

mat rolled his eyes. "no, with confidence. maybe even get you a date."

you guffawed, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "what?"

mat pulled you out of the way of yet another child and kept his hand on your elbow until you were clear of the pumpkin roots. and if your heart stopped for a few seconds, that was your business, no one else's. "you heard me. you're young, single, and attractive and you spend all your free time at the office or DDing for your friends. we can work on your confidence and get you out there."

"i don't know..." though your mind was still focused on the fact that he'd called you attractive.

"what about that other photographer guy? tony?"

you cackled. straight up burst into laughter. "tyler? that's fucking hilarious mat."

"what?" the two of you continued down the patch, occasionally gazing at the pumpkins, but mostly just talking. "you two are always talking."

talking or being insulted?

you shook your head. "enough about me, we're here for alexa."

mat nudged you with his elbow. "actually we're here for me to win alexa over."

you kicked a small stone with the toe of your shoe and said nothing. the tragedy of your own personal situation wasn't lost on you, neither was the idiocy of your plan. what were you thinking, spending your free time with mat? to win over your friend?

it was textbook self inflicted torture.

"where'd you go?" mat nudged you again. "i lost you there for a second."

you bent down and picked up a smaller pumpkin. "what do you think about this one?"

"it looks fine. you're ignoring my question."

you juggled the pumpkin back and forth in your hands to determine if you liked it or not. "what question?" you looked up just in time to see mat roll his eyes, but he dropped the topic anyway.

the both of you walked over to the stall to pay for the pumpkin. you reached into your tote bag to grab your wallet, but mat was already holding out a five dollar bill to the vendor.

"you didn't have to--"

"do you wanna get some cider?"

you could've started drooling at the idea of drinking cider. "yes!"

mat chuckled and started walking towards the cider stand where a small family waited in front of you. "does alexa like cider?" he asked.

"what a random question."

"well you're not giving me anything to work with!"

you almost groaned. because he was right. you got caught up in the idea of hanging out with mat outside of work that you forgot the real reason both of you were there in the first place.

"she loves cider, especially when it's spiked. she also loves mulled wine." mat scrunched his face up. "not a fan?" you asked.

"warm wine? no thank you."

mat paid for the cider, going as far as having the cash ready before you could even order.

"you really don't have to keep buying things. i can pay!"

"oh this is all a bribe to get you to go through that corn maze with me."

your face dropped. "alexa doesn't like mazes."

"so i won't go with her next time, but you're here now and i wanna go."

you let him drag you along until you were in the thick of the maze. you let him guide the both of you through it like he knew what he was doing even though you were pretty sure you hit every possible dead end in the maze.

two little kids ran past giggling and smiling. "we found the end, mama!"

you almost laughed at the look of irritation on mat's face.

it took an obscene amount of time to get through the maze, and mat was in a much worse mood when it was all over.

needless to say, the ride home was quiet.

practice date 2: dinner at mat's

you weren't quite sure what mat was planning on making for dinner, but you were willing to bet the smell of smoke wasn't a part of the plan.

the scene when you walked into his apartment could only be described as chaotic. the smoke detector was going off and when you walked into the kitchen, mat was going between waving a towel under the detector and opening every window in his kitchen.

"you weren't supposed to be here yet!" he shouted over the noise before darting past you into the living room to open the windows in there.

you dropped your things on the counter and took over waving the towel under the smoke detector.

"what happened?" you asked.

"i suck at cooking!" he came back in the kitchen and took the towel from you. "i'm taller," he said like that was an explanation.

the beeping ceased and left the two of you in a hazy apartment. when you looked around the kitchen, you saw what had to be charred meat and veggies in a skillet.

"okay so when you cook dinner for alexa, don't. just hire a chef."

mat held up his phone. "or order pizza. you in?"

"do i get to financially contribute?"

he gestured to your belongings on the counter, one of which was a bottle of red wine. "you already did."

"you can't keep buying everything," you said. "it's not fair."

"why not? i'm the millionaire here, i'd look like a dick if i made you pay for anything. besides, when i date alexa, it's not like i'm gonna let my girlfriend pay."

girlfriend.

right.

that was the end goal for him.

you kept forgetting.

you cleared your throat and dusted your hands on your pants despite them being clean.

"you can go pick out a movie or something while i order the pizza?" mat suggested.

you had no choice but to nod and wander into his moderately decorated living room. it definitely still looked like a bachelor pad, but if a bachelor had enough money to hire someone to say he needed artwork, decorative pillows, and a couch that wasn't brown.

you were scrolling through netflix when mat came into the living room and plopped on the sectional beside you, shucking his shoes off. why he was wearing shoes in his own apartment was beyond you, but you weren't one to judge.

"you look nice," he commented, as if just noticing you for the first time that night.

you looked down at your own outfit. it was a pair of jeans and a nice blouse. "this?"

"are you wearing something else that i'm not seeing?" he teased.

before you could die of embarrassment, you switched subjects. "what do you want to watch? i haven't made a decision yet." you handed the remote to him, hating being the one to make the decisions.

he shifted on the couch so he was sitting up instead of lounging on the chaise and took the remote. "what's alexa's favorite movie?"

"birdbox."

mat did a double take. "she likes birdbox?"

you shrugged. "she's into suspense."

mat was about to select birdbox until he took one look on your face. you don't know what you looked like but it made him pause. "but are you?"

"why do you care what i like?"

"because you're here, alexa's not. i don't wanna make you watch something you'd hate." mat shifted on the couch. "why don't we work on those dating tips i talked to you about."

"oh i don't think--"

"why not?" he asked. "you're always so jittery whenever we talk about it."

oh.

was he referring to the other day after practice when he saw tyler tormenting you and mat misinterpreted that as flirty banter? mat had come up to you afterwards to give you pointers but you practically ran away.

"it's not that simple, mat."

"i think it is."

you threw your hands up. "well then, by all means you must be right."

"what's with the attitude?" he asked. "did i say something?"

it was a good question. one that shouldn't make you want to cry, but life felt overwhelming in all the worst ways. between tyler harassing you every second of every day and pretending like you weren't in love with mat so you could set him up with your friend, and taking photos for games and practices, you were exhausted.

"i'm not sober enough for this," you said before getting up and popping the cork on the wine bottle and drinking straight from it.

it was another thirty minutes before the pizza arrived and the both of you were well on your way to wine drunk, you more so than mat. who could blame you though? your life was a sad excuse for a single twenty-something and you were tired of thinking about it.

"truth is," mat started with a mouth full of pizza. "you just need to act like you're the best thing that's ever happened to this city. guys love confident women."

"and that's your biggest issue with alexa right now."

"wanna switch personalities?"

you laughed.

"what?" he asked. "what's so funny?"

"i'm trying to picture you without an ego and i don't think it's possible."

mat rolled his eyes but had a smile on his lips anyway. it shouldn't have made your heart pound the way it did, but you were weak for that man, you had been since day one.

so you switched courses.

"okay," you started. "how do i make get a guy to wanna date me?"

mats eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "you're serious?"

you nodded. "as a heart attack."

mat sat up on the couch and faced you. his eyes scanned your face like he was looking for something but couldn't find it. maybe he was looking for a reason to change the subject.

"alright," he said. "you gotta be confident, even if you don't feel like it. most guys don't mind a little insecurity, they find it kinda cute, but a guy who wants an insecure girl is a red flag."

"should i be taking notes or...?" you took a large sip of your wine and smiled when mat rolled his eyes again.

"secondly, you can't be hiding behind your camera all the time."

you guffawed. "i do not hide behind my camera!"

"oh give me a break, you totally do! you walk around like it's a safety blanket or something."

"because it is!"

"exactly my point! thirdly, chivalry isn't dead. if he's not doing basic things like opening doors, walking on the closest side to the street, and he's only talking about himself? run."

"what? he can't be a good person if he doesn't do those things?"

"if he can't do a basic kind gesture, he's not going to do larger ones. sorry. i don't make the rules."

you blinked. "but you kinda are making the rules for me, right now."

"you're such a smart ass, just like tito."

"is that a good or bad thing?"

mat shrugged and took another bite of pizza. "hard to say, i love tito most days."

love.

don't be an idiot and read into things.

"so," mat leaned back into the couch. "i gave you advice, it's my turn. how do i win over alexa?"

you thought back to the conversation you had with her a few weeks ago about mat. and one comment stuck out the most. "i think the biggest sin you committed was not knowing anything about me despite working together for two years," you admitted shyly.

mat's brows furrowed in that cute way they always did. "what do you mean?"

"she said she's not impressed by you being nice to kid fans or tipping waitstaff. she would be impressed if you knew anything about me because i'm not a hockey player."

mat recoiled as if physically struck by your words. "she thinks that low of you?"

"no she didn't mean to say you were--" you paused. "me? you think she has a low opinion of me?"

mat crossed his arms. "she just insinuated that you weren't important enough for me to know."

"no! that's not what she meant! she was saying that you think you're better than me."

"that's not even remotely true." and he said it so confidently, you almost believed him. "it's not, you know that right?"

you hesitated and you might as well have punched him in the gut.

mat said your name so softly like it was precious. like it was something special. "you have to know, i have never, not once, believed you were beneath me."

you gave him a small smile. "you don't need to explain yourself to me, mat."

he reached over and grabbed your hand, tugging on it lightly. "no. i need you to know, you are important to me."

your heart fluttered at his words, or maybe it was the fact that you were holding hands and you could feel the calluses rub against your own palm.

you could've stayed there forever.

"jesus fucking christ, why does it smell like something burned in here?" the front door opened and slammed sending you and mat sprawling apart like you hadn't been locked in a staring contest and holding hands. tito rounded the corner and crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face. "what do we have here?"

"nothing!" you squeaked out. "i was just leaving!"

"no you weren't," mat started, eyes wide with an emotion you couldn't place. "beau was just leaving."

you looked as confused as tito was. "what? no i'm not." you glanced back at mat who could not have looked more annoyed if he tried. "or i can...?"

"no!" you said. "i need to get going anyway. got work tomorrow, long day."

mat stood up when he realized there was no convincing you. "i can walk you out--"

"don't worry about it! i'm a big girl." you were leaving when you heard whisper shouting. you couldn't fully make out what they were saying, but before you shut the front door behind you, you could've sworn you heard them mention "liking her."

you did your best not to let the talking break your heart even more.

practice date 3: ice skating

you made mat pick out the last date but he hadn't told you what it was, just asked for your shoe size.

aside from that?

radio silence.

maybe you should've seen this coming. you'd talked to alexa a few days ago and she'd suggested that maybe you should put yourself out there more, find a date, find a boyfriend, find some happiness.

after practice, you found yourself scrolling through your camera roll in one of the seats in the arena when a pair of skates came into your peripheral. you looked up expecting to see a mop of black hair and hazel eyes.

but it was tito with a sheepish grin on his face.

"hey," he said.

you put your camera down and smiled. it was always good to see tito, with the exception of the other night. "hey, what can i do for you?"

anthony playfully rolled his eyes. "you don't live to serve us," he said. "i don't need anything, just wanted to say hi."

"hi!" you smiled even brighter.

"i was wondering, what're you doing friday night?"

you jaw dropped. and it must've been funny because tito threw his head back and laughed. "what?"

tito smiled at you and gestured towards you. "i was wondering if you'd want to get dinner with me on friday. i don't know what time you get off work, but i was thinking 6:30?"

you blinked. you blinked again. "are you serious?"

"why wouldn't i be? you're attractive, single, and i like your company. i think we'd have a fun time."

"okay," you smiled again. have you ever smiled this much in your life? you were unsure. "okay yeah, friday at 6:30 is perfect."

"great," tito grinned. "can i have your number?" you handed your phone over rather quickly, watching as he typed his number in and texted himself. "i'll see you," he said.

"bye tito!" you waved until he was out of sight. and even then, you continued to stare at the spot he was once occupying.

"what the hell was that about?"

you jumped about a foot in the air when tyler made his comment from over your shoulder. "jesus fucking christ, tyler." you placed a hand over your heart to feel how rapidly it was beating. "are you some sort of lurker?"

"what did beauvillier want with you?" he condescended.

"it's none of your business." you rolled your eyes when your phone buzzed.

mat barzal: come down to the locker room.

"who is that?" he asked, peering over your shoulder, but you stood up and started walking away.

the both of you headed down to the locker rooms, though you weren't really enjoying the company. tyler kept talking about your lackluster photography skills like the both of you didn't have the exact same job title.

you were rounding the corner when you saw mat leaning up against the wall, still in his hockey gear. tyler, being confronted with an audience, immediately departed. if you had to guess, he probably went back to his office to scheme how else to make your life miserable.

"hey," you said as you approached. "what's up?"

mat reached down and tossed a duffle bag at your feet. "open the bag," he directed.

you squatted and opened the zipper to see a pair of ice skates. you looked up at mat who looked pleased with himself. "what're these for?"

"you ever been ice skating?" he asked.

the short answer? no.

the long answer? once in second grade for a field trip.

"kinda?" you said instead.

mat laughed, like an actual laugh. there was a shiver that went down your spine at the very sound of it. "it's a yes or no question."

"i would say yes, but i was like eight."

"yeah, doesn't really count anymore. grab the bag, let's go." he walked off without a second thought, leaving you scrambling with the bag and rushing after him.

"what's the point of this?" you called after him.

"you told me to pick the last date, this is it!"

you stopped walking immediately. "mat, i don't know if this is a good idea..."

as if sensing your hesitation, mat turned around and walked back towards you. he rested his hands on your shoulders and squeezed lightly, ducking his head down towards yours. "i'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you, i promise. you have nothing to be afraid of."

"what if my boss sees? what if lou sees? i'm a lot more replaceable than you are."

mat scoffed. "first of all, you're not replaceable. second of all, it's gonna be fine. i'll take all the heat if we get in trouble, which we won't because it's not a big deal." he reached down and grabbed your hand that wasn't holding the duffle bag. "now c'mon."

he led you out to the bench where you sat down and placed your camera on the bench. "take your shoes off and put these socks on." he tossed a pair of socks at your head that you barely caught in time.

"but i'm already wearing socks," you said.

"these are longer, unless you want the boot to cut into your ankle."

safe to say, you put the socks on.

mat knelt in front of you to help put the skates on, tying them up so they were secure on your feet.

you wanted to swoon at the sight of him before you. thankfully, he stood up and helped you to your feet before you could start imagining anything preposterous.

like him proposing.

you watched as mat slid over the top of the bench railing and onto the ice. he turned around and looked at you expectantly.

"oh hell no," you said. "where's the door, i'll use the door."

he cackled as you walked and opened the door, but skated to you anyway to give you some assistance when stepping onto the ice.

"easy does it," he said, chuckling when your grip was practically crushing his fingers. "you're okay, i'm not gonna let you fall."

"it's not you i don't trust, it's me."

mat kept a grip on your hands and led you out to the center of the ice. on the way to the center, you slipped twice, a squeak leaving your lips. you quickly latched onto mat who only laughed at your death grip on his forearms.

"it's not funny," you whined. "i'm terrified."

"you're right, it's not funny. but it is cute." he removed your hands from his arms and skated away from you. "okay, now come to me."

he was easily twenty feet away.

you glanced down at the ice and then back at mat. you would've sat down if you knew how to without eating it. "mat, i'm telling you right now, that's not gonna happen."

"it's not that hard."

"you've been skating since you were a child. i have not." you attempted to take a step forward, but thought differently of it. "besides, how does this help you with alexa?"

"easy," he said. "if i can teach you to skate, i can teach anyone."

"so your idea of a romantic date is a girl busting her ass over and over for an hour?"

"not quite," he said, skating circles around you.

literally.

"you're being an ass,' you whined. "why did the one practice date you pick out have to do with hockey?"

"because it's what i love. and if a girl can't hang with it, our relationship is doomed to fail."

you rolled your eyes. "that's a bit dramatic. you can appreciate and love hockey without having to ice skate. thousands of fans do it all the time."

"but my girlfriend won't be just a fan, now will she?"

your heart sank at the idea of alexa and mat in a similar situation. alexa actually trying to skate and looking beautiful while doing so. you pictured them laughing as she slipped and mat catching her before she could fall.

"you okay? i lost you again." mat skated right up to you, leaving maybe a foot of space between the two of you.

"yeah," you breathed. "just thinking."

mat smirked and skated backwards. "uh oh. that can't be good. less thinking more skating. would it help if i pushed you?"

"no!" you shrieked. "it definitely wouldn't!"

but it was too late. mat was skating up behind you and placing his hands on your waist. "relax," he murmured. "i'm not gonna push you without a little guidance."

relax?

when his hands were on your waist and he was mumbling in your ear?

how the hell was anyone supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions?

mat added a little pressure to your back. and suddenly you were moving. "that's it," he praised. "now just move your feet."

it was easier with mat's hands on you, the sensation forcing you to focus on the warmth of his palms than the fact that you were skating on sharp knives.

"see? this isn't so bad, right?"

it wasn't too terribly bad, truth be told it was just like roller skating, just ten times scarier.

"yeah," you said. "not too bad."

"so you're ready to go by yourself?" his hands starting slipping away, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

"i--"

but he was already skating away. he stopped about twenty feet away and smiled. "skate to me."

"mat--" your voice shook at the idea. skating with him was one thing, skating to him was another.

"hey," he said quietly. "eyes on me, okay? i'm not gonna let you fall, if i think you're gonna fall, i'll catch you. i was the fastest skater in 2020, remember?"

you nodded. "just like roller skating," you mumbled.

"except better," mat added.

you took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other, slowly but surely gliding towards him. you started picking up pace the closer you got to him.

"mat?"

"you're doing great!" he smiled.

"i don't know how to stop!"

mat laughed even as he caught you. his arms gripped your biceps and his smile was a mile wide. "you okay?" he asked.

you couldn't help but smile. "yeah," you breathed.

there was hardly any room between the two of you. your heart was beating wildly in your chest at the proximity, the rush of skating alone, who knew? you surely didn't.

you looked into his eyes and could've sworn his gaze dropped to your chin, but you were known for your hopeless romantic delusions, so maybe--

"hey!" whatever trance you were in ended when you saw a man in coveralls standing at the end of the rink. "time's up, i gotta clean the ice!"

"sorry!" mat called. "we'll get out of your way!" he gently took your hand in his and skated the both of you back to the benches.

mat helped you take off your skates and walked you back up the tunnel towards the locker rooms. the both of you stopped just outside of them, considering mat still had to shower and go home while you had the rest of the day to do your work.

"this was really fun," you said. "terrifying but fun."

"i'm glad you enjoyed it." his smile just about made you collapse into a puddle.

but you got a grip on reality and nodded. "well, i hope this helps with alexa, i'll try to talk to her in the next day or so, see where her head is."

mat's jaw clenched but he nodded. "i'll be seeing you."

"bye, mat."

you might as well have been on cloud nine by the time you got up to your office. you were in a different zone, focused on the way that mat's hands felt on your body, in your own hand. the feeling of euphoria wouldn't leave your body, you were sure of it. nothing could take that feeling away.

until you got to your desk and saw tyler.

who was sitting on your desk and using a paper clip to get the dirt out from under his nails.

"what were you and barzal doing?" tyler asked, moving off your desk, instead choosing to lean up against the cubicle.

you ignored him.

"i asked you a question," he said.

"i heard you, tyler. but i have work to do." you signed into your computer and plugged your camera in, ready to start uploading and editing photos from practice and the game yesterday.

“do you really think sleeping your way through the roster will help you get your pics chosen for the social media accounts?” he sneered.

you froze, your fingers hovered over the keyboard. "what?"

"i said--"

"don't repeat it." another voice joined in and when you turned around to see who came in, you were flabbergasted.

mat.

"barzal i--"

"where do you get off talking to her like that? talking to anyone like that?" he stepped into the room, chest puffed out.

in all of your time working for the isles, mat had never been much of a fighter, but he looked ready to pummel tyler if need be.

"mat, it's fine," you mumbled.

"no, it's not. is this how he normally talks to you?"

you said nothing.

that only seemed to make mat angrier. "you need to go to HR about this. this is workplace harassment. now apologize," he directed at tyler.

"for what? speaking the truth? is this how you think you can get ahead in life?" tyler said to you. "first beauvillier now barzal?"

you and mat both froze. in the corner of your eye you could see his jaw clench before he looked at you.

"can you do your work from home?" he asked.

you nodded. "i just have a shit ton of editing but i can do that on my laptop--"

"great. i'll take you home."

"but my boss-"

"if anyone has a problem with it, they can talk to me. let's go." mat was spinning on his heel and walking out of the room as quickly as he came in. you were unplugging your camera and logging off your computer, packing up your things, before sprinting after him.

"mat! mat, wait up!"

he stopped walking and looked at you, an unfamiliar expression in his eyes. "can you wait for me outside the locker room? i still have to shower and change."

you nodded. "why did you come upstairs anyway?"

"to give you the skates." you glanced down at his empty hands. "i forgot the bag, and by that point, i was too lazy to go down and get them without you."

the both of you continued your walk until you got to the locker room.

"i'll be a few minutes and then i'll take you home."

true to his word, mat was only gone for ten minutes before coming out freshly showered and ready to go home. neither of you spoke until he was pulling the car out of the parking garage.

"what did tyler mean when he mentioned tito?" mat asked after moments of silence. his fists were gripping the wheel tightly, though you didn't know why.

"tito asked me to dinner on friday."

mat's fists tightened their grip on the wheel and his jaw clenched so hard, you were afraid he was going to chip some teeth.

"oh." was all he said.

"something wrong? i just figured for once i wouldn't be hiding behind my camera like you said and i thought it would be fun, you know? we get along fine. why? do you think i shouldn't go?"

"no!" mat said quickly. "no, i just, it just caught me by surprise is all. i'm sure you'll have fun."

"and i can give you alexa's number if you want to ask her out! she's coming over tonight so i can talk you up now that i know more about you, make it seem more genuine."

"yeah," he choked out. "yeah, that would be great."

mat pulled up to your apartment a few minutes later and watched as you got out. "i meant what i said in your office," he said. "you need to tell HR about tyler's behavior."

"i will." you probably wouldn't. "thanks, mat."

he nodded as you shut the door and waited for you to go inside before driving off.

you walked up the stairs to your apartment and unlocked the door. as you shut the door behind you, you felt the weight of today bearing down.

tito asking you out.

the moments with mat.

the slut shaming comment from tyler.

when did your life get so dramatic?

step 4: get her to say yes

you had alexa over that night, armed with a million reasons why she should say yes to mat.

and the one reason why she should say no was locked deep in your chest. your happiness and affection for him shouldn't deter her.

besides, you would eventually get over your silly little crush, right?

right?

"so what's new in your world? i feel like you've been so busy lately. it's kind of strange," alexa said before shoveling a forkful of pasta in her mouth. it should've been disgusting, but she made it look graceful.

"oh you know, just working."

"is that why you were in the middle of nowhere a few weeks ago? work?"

"what?"

"i checked your location, you were on a farm. didn't realize the isles was doing photoshoots that far out of the city."

"oh they're not," you explained. "i was with mat, we were just hanging out."

alexa blinked. "since when do you and mat hang out?"

ouch.

but true.

you couldn't come out and say it could you? that the reason the two of you started interacting was because he wanted to date alexa?

no, you couldn't.

so you lied.

"oh, the social media team wanted me to get some information on mat, like a get to know you segment. they wanted something outside of work, so we were just hanging out so i could write this article on him."

a complete lie. you haven't had to write anything on anyone since your college journalism class. but alexa didn't know that. you never told her what you do all day for work. for all she knew, you could be running the tiktok account.

alexa raised an eyebrow. "and how did that go? was he talking about himself the entire time?"

"no!" you said. but then you paused, realizing that getting defensive would just look suspicious. "he told me a lot about how he doesn't like mulled wine and loves corn mazes despite being absolutely shitty at them. he loves his friends and hockey, obviously. he refuses to let anyone pay for anything while you're with him because he has money and likes to treat people. and he sticks up for the people that are important to him. and once you're in with him, you don't have to worry about your place in his life or how important you are because he will keep reminding you."

alexa stared at you. "are you sure you don't want to go out with him?"

you guffawed and hoped that it covered up your embarrassment. "what? no! he's clearly into you, and i think you should go for it."

"give me one good reason why."

"because he's kind, and nothing like your ex. he cares, legitimately cares about people and their lives." you sighed, not sure if you were convincing her. “it’s just one date, lex. if you don’t like him at least you got a free meal.”

alexa chewed her lip, letting you anguish in silence. "fine. you can give him my number and we'll set up a date. i trust you."

"fantastic!" you were already pulling your phone out. "he'll be so excited--"

"only if you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't have feelings for him."

you opened and closed your mouth. "i don't have feelings for him," you said with as much confidence as you could.

"honey..."

"no! i don't! if i had feelings for him, would i be going out to dinner with his best friend on friday?"

alexa didn't look fully convinced, but your date with tito was a welcomed distraction as she started rattling off questions about what you would wear and where he was taking you.

alexa left two hours later, meaning you could go to bed at a reasonable hour. as you laid in bed, you grabbed your phone and opened mat's contact, drafting a text to him.

here's alexa's number. managed to convince her you were worth a shot. xxx-xxx-xxxx.

you locked your phone and put it on do not disturb before you could see his response.

when you woke up the next morning, you saw mat had simply liked the message and left it at that.

by noon, alexa texted you that her date with mat was on saturday.

step 5: let the dates begin

friday came faster than you were anticipating. you kept your distance from mat, unable to look at him without thinking about how he was taking your friend out the very next day and that your interactions from that point on would probably be through alexa.

tyler kept his distance, must've been the threat of going to HR (that you still hadn't gone through with) that had him treating you like a human being with feelings.

as for tito, you probably should've been more excited for your date that night, but all you could focus on was how mat and alexa would fall in love and get married and have beautiful babies and grow old together.

and you would be the sucker who set them up because you could never tell mat no.

a slam against the boards startled you enough to look up from your camera to see tito standing there with a smile on his face.

"you okay?" he asked over the sounds of his teammates on the ice.

you gave him what you hoped was a convincing smile and nodded. but he rolled his eyes.

"we'll talk later," he said before skating away. you smiled and waved at him before you made eye contact with mat who was clenching his jaw. at what? you weren't sure. you even turned around to see if tyler had entered the arena, but you were standing alone.

like you always were.

you were headed back to your desk to do some editing as practice let out, but your name was called before you could get away.

when you looked over your shoulder, you saw tito doing an awkward half jog half walk towards you with a tired grin on his face. "hey," he said. "how do you think practice went?"

you turned to face him fully. "you're asking me? a professional asking some photographer how practice went?"

tito rolled his eyes. "oh c'mon. you've seen our practices, by now you should be able to determine whether or not it was a good one."

"well, no one fought each other, so i guess that's a win."

tito shook his head. "nah, that's when the best practices happen. when everyone's pissed at each other."

you smiled. "shows what i know."

"i think you know more than you think. you've worked here for awhile now."

"i've just gotten better at motion capture photography and following the puck around the ice. doesn't mean i know shit about hockey."

"don't think we don't notice you getting riled up during games when calls are missed."

you tilted your head and furrowed your brows. "we?"

tito shrugged and laughed to himself. "mat usually points it out before i can." you must've made a face because he added more. "it's usually on the bench, he's focused on the game when he's playing."

the both of you turn your heads at the other players walking down the tunnel. when the both of you caught sight of mat, tito smiled.

"will you send me your address? so i can pick you up?"

your attention snapped back to tito. "yeah! of course!"

he nodded and started his walk towards the locker rooms right when mat walked up to you. "what was that about?" he asked.

you shrugged. "just going over details for tonight. he needs my address to pick me up."

mat clenched his jaw again and looked down the tunnel, nodding his head. "that's tonight?"

"yep. at 6:30."

he wouldn't meet your eyes. instead, he looked at your shoes, your camera, the hallway, his teammates, but would never look at your face.

"you and alexa go out tomorrow, right? where are you taking her?"

he ran a hand through his hair and nodded at anders as he passed by. "yeah, we're going out to this sushi place. did you ever talk to HR?"

"well no but--"

"do i need to talk to HR?"

"he really hasn't been that bad lately--"

"because i threatened to tell HR on his ass. he's gonna get comfortable and start insulting you again. it's just a matter of time."

you nodded, feeling a lump in your throat form at the idea of mat scolding you, in front of his teammates no less.

mat sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. "i'm not trying to fuss or tell you what to do, i just don't like seeing you treated like that."

"thanks, mat," you mumbled.

he still wouldn't meet your eyes, instead looking down the hallway to see most of his team in the locker room. "i gotta go, but um, good luck tonight. beau's a good guy."

with that he turned on his skates and walked away.

you felt every bit of pathetic as you watched him go.

that night, you settled on a pretty dress that wasn't too fancy, seeing as the only details tito had given you were that it was nicer than an olive garden but not a michelin star restaurant. you were strapping yourself into your heels when you heard a knock on the door.

your phone said it was only 6:15, but maybe tito was accounting for traffic. he never did specify when the reservation was.

"coming!" you called as you put your last heel on and made your way to the door. "i wasn't expecting you this early, you never told me when the reservation was--" your voice trailed off when you opened the door and saw who was standing on the other side.

mat.

he looked more disheveled than you'd ever seen him. it was clear he'd been running his hands through his hair repeatedly just by the strands sticking out every which way.

he still looked handsome.

"mat, what're you--"

"i think you're beautiful. and smart. and passionate about a lot of things. and i think anyone who tells you otherwise is an idiot, and i'd fight them if you'd let me." your eyes started welling up with tears. "i think you're perfect for me and if you'd let me take you out, i promise i'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

you blinked until the tears disappeared by sheer willpower, not willing to cry in front of him. "that's perfect," you said. "say that to lex and she'll be eating out of the palm of your hand."

you turned around to grab your bag and coat before you could see mat's face drop in confusion. by the time you turned back around, anthony was standing next to his best friend.

"you ready?" he asked, only glancing at mat out of the side of his eye.

you nodded and squeezed mat's arm as you passed; you couldn't help yourself. "get home safe, mat."

neither you or tito spoke until you got into his car. "what was that about?" he asked.

you shrugged. still not fully comprehending why mat showed up at your door in the first place. "he was telling me what he was gonna tell lex tomorrow, i think."

"really." he didn't sound convinced.

"why else would he show up?"

tito mumbled. "i can think of a few reasons."

after he parked the car, tito got out and opened the door for you while you were answering texts from alexa. he offered you a hand to get out that you took.

there were no sparks, no electric sensations going up your arm. just physical contact, just the warmth of his palm in yours.

he led you into the restaurant which was moderately fancy, like he said. the two of you were escorted back to a table in the corner, away from windows and therefore away from prying eyes.

like a gentleman, he pulled your chair out and helped you scooch up to the table.

"i can't remember if i told you this, but you look lovely," he said with a smile.

"thanks," you replied. "you look handsome." and you meant it. if you weren't in love with his best friend, in another life, you could see yourself falling for his blue eyes. and maybe you still could. mat was going on a date with your friend tomorrow so it was better that you just get over him already and--

"so how long have you been in love with mat?"

you choked on your own spit, and for a minute, tito looked apologetic. for his timing, you had to guess, not the question itself.

surely you heard him wrong.

"what?" you asked when you finally got your bearings.

"how long have you loved him?"

nope. you heard him correctly.

"i--"

he leaned forward, arms braced on the table. "you don't have to lie to me, i know. i've known for awhile."

"i--"

but the server came up and asked for drink orders. tito ordered a bottle of red for the table after asking for your thoughts.

you were still reeling from his question, safe to say you didn't have any thoughts.

"sorry," tito started. "i didn't mean to make you feel cornered, i just wanted to be honest."

"it doesn't look like you're the only who needs to be honest, it's me." you fiddled with the ends of your dress.

"why'd you do it? why'd you help set mat up with your friend?"

you shrugged. "i just wanted to see him happy. and i wanted alexa to find a good guy, i knew mat was one. they make sense together."

"even if it makes you unhappy."

"even if it makes me unhappy."

tito nodded, and looked at you like he could see something you couldn't. "let's forget about him for now and just enjoy dinner, eh?"

you gave him your best smile and nodded.

the rest of the night flew by. soon enough, tito was walking you up to your apartment and kissing your cheek before he left. you wished you felt butterflies, or something, but there was no special sensation. nothing to make you weak in the knees.

it was like a kiss from an old friend.

your phone buzzed with a text from alexa.

alexa: how'd your date go?

you typed out a quick response.

it was good. just got home.

you locked your phone and placed it on your nightstand before collapsing into bed. but your phone buzzed again. you thought about ignoring it, but if it was alexa, you didn't want her to think you were upset at her.

mat barzal: did you have fun?

you blinked before typing back.

yeah. tito's great.

not a second later, you got another text.

mat barzal: good. have a good night.

you fell back against your pillows and cursed at the ceiling.

step 6: let them fall in love

you woke up the next morning and stayed in bed until your bladder was about to burst. after the date with tito and the reminder that mat was going out with alexa tonight, it was all enough to put you back in bed as soon as you peed.

and you stayed there, flicking through netflix shows and wallowing in self pity. you usually weren't this pathetic, but the idea of alexa and mat getting cozy on their date that night was enough to warrant your sadness.

you'd pull yourself together by monday when you'd have to go back to work and see how happy she made him.

that's what you kept telling yourself, that at the very least, two of your friends would be happy.

by 7pm, you were sitting on the couch, waiting for takeout to arrive.

when a knock on the door signified your food arrived, you got up with your blanket burrito and walked to the door. you didn't even bother checking before yanking the door open and looking down at your doormat.

only to see a pair of shoes.

"what the hell," you mumbled. "i thought i said leave at the door...' your voice trailed off as your eyes lifted to meet a pair of hazel.

mat barzal.

he had your food in one hand while the other was in his pocket.

"mat?" you whispered. suddenly, you were throwing the blankets off your shoulders and behind you into your apartment where they'd be out of sight.

though it was then you realized you were in sweats and you hadn't done anything with your hair all day so you were probably better off with the blanket burrito instead.

"hi," he breathed. "here's your food." he handed it over, nodding when you murmured your thanks, and shoved his other hand through his hair.

you glanced at the time on the clock on your wall to make sure you weren't hallucinating. "why're you here, mat? shouldn't you be with alexa?"

"that's what i wanted to talk to you about, actually."

"oh no," you started panicking, your eyes widened. "did she not show up?" you turned back into your apartment and went to your phone, searching for texts from alexa to explain her absence. "i swear i thought she'd show. she told me she would and she's usually a woman of her word."

you turned around when your front door shut with mat standing in the middle of your living room, looking out of place and right at home somehow.

your phone was vacant of any text messages from alexa.

"no, she showed. i left early."

that caught your attention.

you set your food on the coffee table and turned around to face him.

"why did you leave early? was she rude? are you sick?"

mat shook his head. "no, i'm fine, she was fine. that's not why i'm here. i mean it is but that's--that's--i want, no i need to tell you something."

"tell me what?"

he rolled his eyes. "i'm getting to that." he started pacing your very small living room. you wondered if he knew how much space he took up in your apartment. you wondered if he cared how messy your place was. "i'm just gonna come right out and say it, and don't interrupt me this time." you nodded.

mat ran both hands through his hair for the twentieth time since he showed up. "when i said all those things last night, i wasn't talking about alexa. i was talking about you."

what.

but he continued.

"i'm not gonna pretend i've loved you this whole time, but i fell in love with you along the way. the way you kept analyzing every fucking pumpkin for the perfect one, or how you bring red wine to dinner unprompted because you can't not contribute to something, or the way you trusted me enough to take you on the ice and show you something i love, or how you laugh like no one has ever said something mean to you in your life even when i know that jackass tyler harasses you on the daily. you're kind to literally every person i've ever seen you interact with.

"but i hate the way you shrink yourself like you're afraid to take up space. i hate the way you act like alexa's better than you, like i couldn't fall in love with you when you're literally the most generous, kindest, passionate, and beautiful person i've ever met in my life. because i do love you. every fiber of my being loves you."

you blinked once. twice. and breathed.

"what?" you whispered as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

"i know you just went out with tito last night, and if you like him, if you love him, i get it. he's a great guy and you'd be great together. but i'm asking you to give me a chance, give us a chance. i've had fun with you the last few weeks and i cannot bear the thought of not calling you mine any longer." his chest was heaving as the words rushed out of his mouth.

you rounded the coffee table to get to him. as soon as you were in arms' reach, mat was pulling you to him. with your hips pressed together, your lips just a breath away, you spoke softly.

"please tell me this isn't a dream."

a small laugh escaped his lips and echoed over your own. "it's not a dream, baby. this is real. i love you so fucking much."

"i love you too, mat."

any words you had left to say were lost as he brought your mouths together.

you weren't sure how much time had passed before you separated from him with your hands pressed on his chest. mat tried to follow your lips, but you kept a firm hand on his sternum so you could speak.

"what about alexa?"

mat pulled back. "what about her?"

"you were on a date with her and just left her there?"

"i more than covered the tab if that's what you're afraid of--"

"what if she hates me?"

he laughed. like threw his head back and laughed before kissing you again. "baby, we were there for fifteen minutes and all i could talk about was you. she told me to come here and tell you the truth."

you smiled. "thank god for alexa."

"thank god for alexa."

mat led the two of you over to the couch where you immediately curled into him. he kissed the top of your head, seemingly addicted to having his lips on your body at all times. "you're fired, you know."

you would've pulled away had mat's grip allowed it. "what? fired from what?"

"the wing woman business. you're absolutely horrible at it."

"yeah, well i think it worked out pretty well."

he pressed his lips into your hair and mumbled. "yeah, i think so too."

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