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bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago

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hibernation

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, bear!price, size difference/kink, breeding kink, hibernation, shifter au, established relationship, living room sex, doggy style, rough sex, pregnancy

hefty lover, that was the only way you could describe your lover. the bear shifter known as john price. and you were his lovingly perfect mate.

price's paws were big, he was well over a head taller than you and when he showed you how strong he was, it made your knees wobble a little. "c'mere, lovie. come to your big bear." and like a moth to a flame, you got into your lover's arms. you held onto his hairy, strong forearms and felt protected by your grizzly lover.

you knew when the leaves started to change colours that your mate was going to get ready for the hibernation months. it meant being out in the woods more and acquiring a healthy diet of salmon and berries. fatty foods to bulk up during the long sleep.

you had your own food from the grocery store in town, you couldn't live off the diet of a bear. but, your mate happily fished and made sure he could make it through the winter. as a result of the bulking and the heart diet, your mate got much heavier and harrier. that didn't help your sexual attraction to him.

he started to notice your neediness when he kept catching the scent of your wet pussy. it only made him need you more. the attraction was mutual.

he knew soon he was going to be in a deep sleep, and he wanted you as much as he could get before the hibernation started. it all came to a head a week before his sleep started when he needed his mate more than anything.

"c'mere, lovie. come to your big bear." he palmed himself through his sweatpants. he was in a tank top and flannel bottoms. you could see the bulge in them and how hairy he was all over.

he looked like a protector, a provider. your big bear.

price soon had you over the solid wood coffee table that was your mate's project over the summer. he was painfully hard as he carefully took off your own sweatpants and your panties (they had little bears printed on them) and he admired your cunt.

he like his mate's pussy, a little fuzzy like him. he didn't need you plucked, shaven or waxed. he needed you the way nature intended. he cooed, "there she is, the showstopper." he cupped your warm cunt for a moment before he went to pull down his bottoms and get out his cock.

his briefs were under his heavy balls. he stroked his cock, he knew he was big. he could scare any man and make any woman drool with what was between his legs. but you weren't scared of anything, and only you were allowed to touch his cock.

you took your mate perfectly.

he rubbed his length up against your slit and chuckled, "ah, they're kissing, petal." he smeared his precum up against your needy sex.

you moaned, "please, honey." you felt the pleasure race up and down your body. his lust was infectious. his love was addictive.

only a wild woman could love a bear, and you were more in love with price than anyone else could be.

"mmm, you feel amazing and i'm not even in, beautiful." he licked his lips, he was hungry for you. his darling missus. when he sank into you, you felt heaven splash over you.

you gripped the edge of the table for support, some kind of support to hold onto while your larger lover moved against you with heavy thrusts.

price had been holding out on breeding you. it was wasn't easy for a human to carry a shifter baby, especially a bear one. and keeping up with price along was a task in itself.

but with you bent over the table, he couldn't help himself. he wanted a reminder of him as you got through the winter. he continued to thrust up inside of you. he was encouraged by your sweet moans, it made him hungry for you. he moved you up and down his cock, he needed you with a heated want.

you were a perfect little thing, his little human. his delicate little mate that he needed to protect. to love. to breed.

"that's it, love. you take me so fuckin' well. made perfect for me, you have the most beautiful cunt i've ever had the pleasure to fuck. you're heaven sent, a gift from mother nature herself. my personal goddess." he groaned while his mouth ran like a motor.

you whined in response as you felt your mate press his hairy chest against your back. he got his shirt off because he really pressed you up against the table. no wonder he spent the summer making sure it was strudy enough. a good place to lay out his mate and fuck her until she saw stars.

"that's my beautiful, girl." He said, "you look great under me. next time, i take you, we'll be face to face so i can watch you as you cum. my fuckin' angel, all mine." he continued to fuck you. he watched your ass bounce with each of his movements.

"please, john! ah! fuck, your cock feels so good." your eyes squeezed shut from the rush of pleasure in your core. he knew exactly how to make you feel good.

no other man ever made you cum before you met john price. on his first try he made your back arch and your toes curl.

your pulse quickened as the pleasure continued to build in your core. you loved being price's mate. to love him was a journey that you enjoyed. your pussy wetness drenched your thighs as price continued to fuck you from behind.

price knew how to be gentle, but where was the fun in that? not when he could bounce you on his hard cock at a feverish pace. pleasure bubbled in your soul as you felt on cloud nine.

such a rough lover, using size, experience and age to his advantage. he had you under his mercy. but that didn't matter to you, not when the shocks of pleasure bloomed in your head. not when you found the ache for your lover being filled. the bear shifter knew how to make heaven on earth. you held on tightly to the edge of the table as the movements grew faster. his cock hit against the softest parts of you.

"I love you."

"i love you too."

you whined a little and your feet dug into the patterned rug under the table. you bit your bottom lip to try and not be too loud. but price loved it when you were loud.

he wanted to hear every noise you made, it only turned him on further. price loved everything about you. you made him feel more wild than anything else, including turning into a bear. your allure had him on his knees begging for more. with you he could always be greedy, he was a possessive bear with you. territorial.

you didn't last much longer. not with such a heat pumping through your body. you were gasping with an insatiable want as he made sure you came before he did. you held onto the table tightly as you came. the clench in your body as you felt the inferno of lust around you.

price maintained his pace and fucked you through your orgasm. your heightened noises only sent him over the edge as his pace started to stagger. with a few heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. he held your hips up with his large hands to make sure it got all the way into your womb.

when he stropped, he wasn't finished. he had less than a week to make sure you didn't forget your mate over the long winter months.

price made a gruff noise and turned over onto his back. his eyes open, it wasn't quite spring yet. he raised his head and scratched his beard. he looked around the quiet bedroom with bleary eyes and noticed you not in the bed next to him.

even though you couldn't hibernate, you had been away from the nest for too long. he heard a small crash from the kitchen and he was up on his feet. he lumbered over and saw you by the oven with a tray of brownies in your hand.

you looked almost guilty at the sight of your mate standing there. you said, "sorry, big bear."

price smiled sleepily, "it's alright. you eat up for you and the cub." he came over and gave your soft bump a nice rub, "come back to bed soon. can't sleep without you." and gave you a kiss on the top of your head before he lumbered back to bed. back to sleep until the snow melted <3

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romerona · 6 months ago

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The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

You sat at the table, doing your best to appear interested as your date droned on about his latest work achievements. Something about managing accounts, sealing big deals, and being “essential” to the success of his company. You’d lost track of the details five minutes in, your polite smile starting to feel like a workout for your face.

“…but you wouldn’t get that,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, like you were a child. “Teaching kids and all. It’s like... coloring books and snack time, right?”

Your smile faltered, and you tightened your grip on the stem of your wine glass, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “Not quite. It’s actually pretty challenging—teaching is about shaping young minds, not just... crayons.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding like he wasn’t really listening. “But you have to admit, it’s not exactly high stakes.” He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin stretching across his face. “I mean, no offense.”

“None taken,” you replied tightly, though the bile creeping up your neck said otherwise. You took a slow sip of your wine, hoping the glass might serve as a buffer between his words and your patience. Spoiler: it wasn’t working.

Inwardly, you cursed yourself for agreeing to this. What had Ava said when she pitched the idea? “Girl, you’re way too cute to be single and wasting away in that apartment of yours. You need to get out there. Shake things up. And this guy? Total catch—tall, successful, and probably rich. You’re welcome.”

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Ava’s relentless confidence had rubbed off on you, and the idea of putting yourself out there sounded... productive, if not promising. After all, your secret crush on your cute neighbor wasn’t going anywhere.

Carmy.

You couldn’t help but think about him as Ben prattled on about his “huge network.” Carmy was quiet, focused, and sweet in a way you didn’t think he realized. But he was also impossible to read. Sure, you’d had a few conversations here and there, shared a laugh or two, but he’d never made a move. You hadn’t either—paralyzed by the thought of misinterpreting things and embarrassing yourself.

Which is how you’d ended up here, with Ben. Wonderful, condescending Ben, who clearly thought your life’s work was a joke.

“And this place,” Ben said, gesturing around the restaurant with a smug grin. “Pretty great, right? Super exclusive. I know a guy who knows the chef here. Heard he’s like, a genius or something. Figured we’d go all out.”

You glanced around the dimly lit space, suddenly more aware of the upscale decor—the polished wood tables, the soft amber glow of the overhead lights, and the quiet hum of conversation that seemed to fill the air like music. It was... fancier than you’d expected.

The Bear.

You’d heard of it, of course—who hadn’t? It was one of those places people raved about, where getting a reservation was an accomplishment in itself. The kind of place where you know the food would be incredible, but the bill would make you question your life choices. Nice, but you were pretty sure you could only afford, like, a cup of water here.

Ben leaned in closer, grinning smugly. “This chef guy? Supposedly some kind of prodigy. I don’t know the details, but people say he’s a big deal. Good thing I’ve got connections, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, noncommittal, as you glanced toward the bustling kitchen. A wave of heat and light spilled out from behind the pass, where you could just make out the shadowed figures of chefs moving in synchronized chaos.

As you sipped from your wine glass, trying to find something redeemable about Ben’s endless self-promotion, you wondered if maybe Ava had oversold this whole “dating adventure” thing.

Carmy spotted you the second you walked in.

He’d been at the pass, focused on plating an intricate dish—a delicate arrangement of seared scallops and edible flowers—when his gaze drifted toward the dining room. His hands paused mid-motion, a faint crease forming between his brows as he recognized you.

You were hard to miss, sitting near the window in a corner booth, your posture poised but just slightly tense. Dressed in something a little sleeker than usual, you looked... different. Not in a bad way—never in a bad way— Not that you ever looked anything less than beautiful, but tonight, something about you seemed… striking, enough that he found himself staring longer than he should’ve.

His eyes flicked to the guy sitting across from you. The guy who was laughing too loud, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, gesturing with wild hands as he talked. You, on the other hand, wore a polite smile that didn’t quite light up the room as it usually did.

Carmy’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t sure why the sight of you with someone else tugged at his chest the way it did, but it lingered, heavy and unwelcome.

It’s none of your business, he told himself, forcing his focus back to the dish in front of him. You weren’t his to worry about.

You weren’t his at all.

Still, his gaze flicked back toward your table, almost involuntarily, catching the way your date seemed oblivious to your discomfort. Carmy’s stomach twisted at the thought. He didn’t know what he expected—maybe for the guy to notice the way you played with your napkin or to tone down his boisterous tone—but it wasn’t this.

“Chef?” Sydney’s voice broke his focus, sharp but professional.

“Yeah,” he muttered, snapping back to reality. His eyes returned to the plate in front of him, the arrangement now slightly skewed from his distraction. He adjusted it quickly, his movements precise but tighter than usual. “Thanks, Chef.”

As Sydney moved on, Carmy risked one last glance at you. The corner booth, the dim lighting, the guy who couldn’t seem to shut up—it all felt wrong. But he pushed it down, buried it under the quiet rhythm of the kitchen, telling himself it wasn’t his place to care.

And yet, he did.

He cared enough to, like some kind of creep, step out of the kitchen and hover near the hallway that led to the restrooms. It wasn’t a plan—not really. He told himself he just needed a breather, a moment to clear his head and shake off the knot in his chest. But he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.

The low hum of the restaurant buzzed in his ears as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t even know what he’d say if you saw him. Maybe he’d play it off, and act like he just happened to be there. But then, what were the odds you’d even notice him? You were here with someone else, after all.

It was ridiculous, he knew that—irrational even— he should go back, really what the fuck was he thinking--

But the sound of heels clicking softly against the floor pulled him from his spiralling thoughts. His breath hitched as you turned the corner, and your expression turned to one of shock when you spotted him.

“Carmy?” you said, stopping mid-step. Your voice carried a note of surprise, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe, or even relief at seeing a familiar face in such an unfamiliar situation.

“Hey,” he said, standing a little straighter, as if he hadn’t just been loitering near the hallway like a guilty teenager. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You blinked, your eyes flicking over his clothes—the crisp white uniform. The realization dawned on you, and your brows lifted in surprise.

“You work here?”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “I, uh... I own it.”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “You own it?”

“Yeah,” he said again, a bit softer this time. His lips twitched into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “I started it a while back. Kind of… a long story.”

You took a moment to process this revelation, glancing around the restaurant as if seeing it in a new light. The warm lighting, the carefully plated dishes you’d glimpsed on their way to other tables—it all made sense now. Of course, this was Carmy’s place. It was thoughtful, deliberate, but somehow unpretentious.

“Wow,” you said, meeting his gaze again. “That’s... impressive.”

Carmy shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets. “It’s just work. Nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy?” you repeated, a small laugh escaping as you gestured toward the elegant decor. “Carmy, this place is gorgeous. You’re way too modest.”

"Thanks," His lips twitched into a faint smile, but his eyes lingered on you, searching before he added, “You didn’t look like you were having a great time out there.”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic, your surprise melting into something closer to embarrassment.

“Oh,” you said, glancing toward the dining room before meeting his gaze again. “Yeah, it’s... it’s a date.”

Carmy’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, though his expression didn’t waver.

“Figured,” he muttered, his voice steady but low.

“Not a great one,” you admitted, your lips quirking into a dry smile. “Blind date, courtesy of Ava. It’s... fine, I guess. He’s just... not my type.”

Carmy raised an eyebrow, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What’s your type, then?”

The question caught you off guard, your breath hitching slightly as his words hung in the air. You laughed softly, deflecting. “I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t treat teaching like it’s a hobby or call it a job anyone can do.”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, and he shook his head in disbelief. “He did not say that.”

You groaned dramatically, closing your eyes as if the memory physically pained you. “Oh, but he did. Word for word, and I quote: ‘Teaching is important, I guess. But it’s gotta be, like… easy, right? Summers off, finger painting, all that?’ And then—then!—he laughed. Like he’d just unlocked the secret to stand-up comedy.”

Carmy blinked, his smirk fading into something closer to incredulity. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” you said, sighing dramatically. “You’d think he was trying out his Type Five for open mic night. And the pièce de résistance? He throws in the classic ‘no offense.’ Like that’s a verbal Ctrl+Z or something.”

That earned a real laugh from Carmy this time, his shoulders shaking slightly as he shook his head. “What the hell? So, this is what you’re dealing with?”

“Oh, but I’m thriving,” you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm waving your hand dismissively. “Peak romantic energy. Nothing like being told my career is a glorified arts-and-crafts workshop to really get the sparks flying.”

Carmy leaned slightly against the wall, crossing his arms as he listened. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, maybe, or quiet disbelief. “And you’re still out there?”

“Excellent question, Chef Carmy,” you said, pointing at him with mock gravity. “I think it’s a mix of morbid curiosity, sheer stubbornness, and maybe a touch of guilt. I mean, he did spring for the wine. Even if he did refer to it as a ‘top-shelf pour.’”

That made Carmy snort, his head dropping slightly as he tried to compose himself. “Top-shelf pour, huh? Sounds like a real charmer.”

You laughed softly, though there was a bite of bitterness in it. “Oh, totally. It’s been a real dream date. Honestly, if he makes one more crack about teaching being ‘easy,’ I might just—” You mimed strangling someone, your hands curling dramatically as you added a mock growl for effect.

Carmy chuckled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you shot back, your grin sharpening. “It might get me out of this date, but I’m pretty sure assault charges aren’t a great look for me.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.”

Your playful energy dimmed slightly as you glanced toward the dining room. “Anyway, I should probably get back out there before he starts mansplaining the wine list to the waitress. Again.”

Carmy’s lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, but instead, he straightened up quickly, the weight of his role as head chef settling back onto his shoulders. “Yeah, I should... head back to the kitchen too. Got a lot to wrap up tonight.”

You turned back to him, your expression softening. “Thanks, by the way,” you said, holding his gaze. “For... checking in, I guess. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged a gesture that looked casual but felt like it carried more weight. His voice dropped slightly as he replied, “Yeah, I did.”

The words hung there for a beat, his meaning lingering just beneath the surface as the two of you locked eyes. The air between you felt heavy, almost tangible, like a thread being pulled taut. You wanted to say something—anything. Maybe a joke to break the tension, or maybe the truth: that you liked him, that you wished it was him sitting across from you tonight, making you laugh instead of testing your patience.

Unbeknownst to you, Carmy’s thoughts ran dangerously close to yours. He’d been replaying every interaction with you since the day you moved in next door, every laugh, every casual smile. The thought of you with someone else—someone who didn’t seem to notice the little things about you the way he did—made his chest tighten in ways he couldn’t explain.

But before either of you could give voice to the thoughts swirling in your heads, the faint sound of your date’s voice carried through the hallway, breaking the moment like a needle scratching across a record. You winced slightly, the weight of reality pulling you back.

“Ugh. That’s my cue,” you said, shooting Carmy an exaggerated grimace. “Duty calls.”

Carmy nodded, his expression carefully neutral, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed the emotions he was trying to keep in check. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks,” you said with a wry grin. “I’ll need it.”

Despite his words, his gaze lingered on yours, as if searching for something unspoken. For a moment, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d say something more, but instead, he stepped back, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“See you around,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, your heart squeezing as you turned to head back toward the dining room. “See you around.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were leaving something unfinished behind. And Carmy, watching you go, felt much the same, his hands flexing at his sides as he fought the urge to call after you.

When he finally turned back toward the kitchen, his jaw tightened, the moment still playing over in his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, willing himself to focus as he pushed open the swinging door. The familiar clatter and hum of the kitchen greeted him, but it did little to drown out the thoughts circling his head.

He barely made it three steps before Richie appeared, leaning casually against the counter with his signature smirk firmly in place.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Richie drawled, crossing his arms. “What’s the matter, Cousin? Lose track of time out there? Or were you too busy making googly eyes at the customer? Can't blame you thought, she's gorgeous.”

Carmy’s jaw ticked, his shoulders stiffening. “Shut up, Richie.”

--------

Your date’s voice droned on, a monotonous background noise to your growing sense of regret. Why had you agreed to this? Why hadn’t you just stayed home with a glass of wine and a good book?

Just as you were contemplating an excuse to leave—feigning a sudden headache, maybe, or an urgent call from a friend—a waiter approached your table. It wasn’t the same one who had been serving you throughout the evening, but an older guy with an easy smile and a glimmering of mischief in his eyes carrying a small plate in hand. The plate held an assortment of beautifully arranged pastries, each one delicate and intricate, like a tiny work of art.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said, your brow furrowing as you looked up at him.

“It’s from the chef,” the waiter replied, his tone polite but with a glimmer of something knowing in his eyes.

Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching as you glanced instinctively toward the kitchen pass. Sure enough, Carmy was there, leaning slightly against the counter, his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze was fixed squarely on you.

Your heart gave a little jolt, heat creeping up your neck as you turned back to the table.

Your date, meanwhile, was entirely oblivious to the silent exchange. He grinned widely, puffing out his chest a little as he gestured to the plate. “See? Told you this place was top-notch. They must’ve recognized me. Perks of being a regular.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing. Instead, you bit back your amusement, your lips twitching into a barely restrained smile as you reached for one of the pastries.

“Right,” you said lightly, turning the pastry over in your hand. “Must be your VIP status.”

As you took a bite, the pastry practically melted in your mouth, a perfect blend of buttery richness and delicate sweetness. It was so good it almost made you forget the company you were keeping—almost.

“You know, this kind of attention doesn’t happen just anywhere. It’s all about knowing the right people.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, taking a bite of one of the delicate confections. It melted in your mouth, rich and buttery, with just the right amount of sweetness.

When you glanced back toward the pass, Carmy was already gone, disappearing back into the kitchen as seamlessly as he’d appeared. But his gesture lingered, wrapping around you like a quiet reassurance, a small thread of comfort in an otherwise unbearable evening.

And for the first time that night, your smile wasn’t forced.

A/N: Heyyy I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to all those people who comment, like and reblog. Like fr you all make my week. Always looking for some ideas so please feel free to ask.

Also, please tell me if you want to be tagged. Be safe out there, please the world is too crazy at the moment. <3

Tags:

@hiitsmebbygrl16 @urthem00n @svzwriting29 @tyferbebe

@akornsworld @khxna @ruthyalva96 @beingalive1

@darkestbeforethedawn16 @turtle-cant-communicate spideybv28 veryberryjelly @daisy-the-quake

Next part 7

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #reader-insert #reader insert #the bear #abbott elementary #abbott elementary x reader #ava coleman

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lorimnnn · 2 months ago

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thinking about a man who fucks you into the mattress like a rabid dog. he laughs with smug satisfaction at the noises he hammers out of you, and the shame brands your cheeks with red.

"you're such a fuckin' freak, you know that? fuck. you get a kick out of lyin' to everyone about what you are? you deserve an oscar."

nobody would believe him if he told them, of course. but he doesn't have to. the shame is enough for you alone, because it will lead you back to him again and again, no matter how bad for you he is. but that's fine.

something that feels this good can't possibly be that bad, right?

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brunettemarionette · 5 days ago

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Clingy Carmen

He's in love. He's clingy. He's yours.

The annual staff party is in full swing, the cramped staff room of the restaurant buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint thump of a playlist Richie threw together at the last minute.

You’re leaning against a counter, nursing a soda water with lime, watching the chaos unfold.

The kitchen staff, usually a tightly wound crew, is letting loose tonight, and it’s a sight. Sydney’s debating pizza toppings with Marcus, Tina’s dancing with Ebra, and Richie’s trying to convince everyone he’s got the best karaoke voice in Chicago.

But your eyes keep drifting to Carmen—your Carmen—whose usual sharp focus has been replaced by a tipsy, lopsided grin.

He’s three whiskeys deep, maybe four, and it shows. Carmy’s not a big drinker, but tonight he’s leaning into it, his shoulders relaxed for once, his anxiety tucked away under the warm haze of alcohol. He’s standing by the drinks table, laughing too loud at something Fak said, but when he spots you across the room, his whole face lights up like you’re the only person here.

“Babe,” he calls, voice slurring just enough to make Sydney snicker. He weaves through the crowd, nearly tripping over a chair, and before you can say anything, he’s at your side, wrapping his arms around your waist like you’re his lifeline. “There you are,” he mumbles, burying his face in your neck. His breath is warm, smelling of whiskey and that faint, familiar scent of the kitchen—olive oil, smoke, and him.

“Carm, you good?” you ask, patting his back, trying not to laugh as he nuzzles closer. His curls tickle your cheek, and you can feel the heat of his skin through his thin T-shirt.

“M’great,” he slurs, pulling back just enough to look at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re so pretty, y’know that? Like… stupid pretty.” His hands slide up your sides, lingering a little too long, and you catch Richie raising an eyebrow from across the room, smirking like he’s enjoying the show.

“Thanks, babe,” you say, gently steering his hands back to safer territory. “You’re having fun, huh?”

“Only ‘cause you’re here,” he says, earnest in that way only a drunk Carmy can be. He leans in, trying to kiss you, but it’s messy, his aim off, landing somewhere near your jaw. You laugh, guiding his face back, and he pouts, looking like a kicked puppy. “C’mon, kiss me,” he whines, tugging you closer.

“Carmy, you’re drunk,” you say, keeping your tone light but firm. The others are watching now, Tina stifling a giggle behind her hand, Marcus pretending to focus on his drink but clearly eavesdropping.

Carmy’s usually so tightly wound, all sharp edges and nervous energy, that seeing him like this, soft, clingy, practically draping himself over you—is comedy gold to them.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, pressing himself against you, his hands wandering again. “You’re my girl, right? Lemme… lemme take you home.” His voice drops, low and suggestive, and you feel your cheeks heat up as Richie lets out a loud “Oh, shit!” and claps like he’s at a stand-up show.

“Carmen Anthony Berzatto,” you say, grabbing his face with both hands, forcing him to meet your eyes with an amused grin. “You are way too drunk for that.”

He blinks at you, slow and confused, then grins like he’s got a secret. “But I want you,” he says, loud enough that Sydney chokes on her drink and Fak lets out a “Yo, Carm, chill!”

You’re torn between embarrassment and amusement, because this is Carmy, the guy who can barely say “I love you” without blushing sober, trying to get frisky in front of his entire staff.

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head, but you can’t help smiling. “You’re going to bed, chef. Alone. With water and some aspirin.”

He groans, dramatically, and slumps against you, his head on your shoulder. “You’re no fun,” he mumbles, but he’s still clinging to you, arms tight around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

You catch Tina’s eye, and she mouths “cute” with a grin, clearly loving this rare glimpse of Carmy’s softer side.

“Alright, party’s over for you,” you say, gently prying him off. “Say goodnight, Carm.”

“Goodnight, Carm,” he echoes, giggling to himself, then waves sloppily at the room. “Night, losers!”

The crew erupts in laughter, Richie yelling, “Get his ass home, Sweetheart!” as you steer Carmy toward the door.

The drive to his apartment is an adventure. Carmy’s in the passenger seat, still touchy, reaching for your hand at every red light, muttering about how you’re “the best thing that’s ever happened” to him. You keep one hand on the wheel, the other gently batting his away when he gets too bold, reminding him you’re not crossing that line while he’s hammered.

At his place, you manage to get him inside, the two of you pressed together, all sloppy kisses and whispered promises. You're giving him this much as you walk him to bed. “C’mon, babe, just stay,” he pleads, flopping onto the mattress, tugging at your wrist.

“Not tonight, Carm,” you say, firm but gentle, pulling the blanket over him. You set a glass of water and two aspirin on the nightstand, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

He’s already half-asleep, eyes fluttering shut, but he grabs your hand one last time, holding it against his chest.

“Love you,” he mumbles, barely coherent, and your heart does a little flip despite yourself.

“Love you too,” you whisper, kissing his forehead. He’s out cold before you even turn off the light.

As you lock up and head home, you can’t help but smile, thinking about the teasing you’ll both get from the crew tomorrow. Clingy, drunk Carmy might be a handful, but he’s your handful, and that’s more than enough.

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marksbear2 · 1 year ago

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Soft dom Hannibal Lecter and crybaby mreader where he teach reader how to ride him 🙂‍↕️🏃‍♂️‍➡️🏃‍♂️‍➡️

HANNIBAL LECTER X CRYBABY MALE READER

⚠️Warnings- Soft dom Hannibal, talking through it, teaching, guiding, crying- and crying kink, shy reader. Naive/ Virgin reader. And etc ⚠️

Soft but muffled moaning and choked sobs could be heard inside of Doctor’s Lecter office. You were whimpering softly as Hannibal stared at he looking down at you in between his legs with your face all puffy and wet from crying as you had your lips wrapped around Hannibal’s cock.

Hannibal had his hand laying gently on your head but had a firm grip. You eyes still had tears falling from it from earlier.

You were crying and whining earlier as he was fingering you and stretching you out prepping for his cock.

Once he had decided that you were prepped enough he told you. “Isn’t it only fair that you give me something back?”

That’s how you both ended it up now. Hannibal staring down at you while you trying the best of your ability to give him a blowjob.

You squirmed under his eyes, but tried to ignore his gaze. “Your teeth is grazing me. Relax. Stop thinking so hard.” Hannibal said as he used his free hand to pull you off his cock before moving his thumb inside your mouth pressing it against your tongue.

Hannibal stared down into your mouth for a few more seconds before pulling his hand away and grabbing your jaw guiding your mouth down on his cock.

“Teeth, watch your teeth.” Hannibal said in a soft but firm tone. You slowly do as you said as you moved your tongue around his cock.

Hannibal hands stayed where they were guiding you up and down on his cock.

Your face was flustered as tears still went down as Hannibal cupping your cheeks, he could feel his own cock moving and moving the side of your cheeks with his cock making your mouth full.

With his large hands guiding your head, you let him do all the work while you just moved your tongue around.

Hannibal gently pushed your head away from his cock and adjust the way he’s sitting in the chair tapping his knee. You quickly scramble into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Hannibal puts his firm large hand on your hips holding you still as he used his free hand for hold and angle his large wet cock to your hole.

You were somewhat unaware, as he distracted you with comforting praises and words of affection.

“Take a deep breath for me darling.” Hannibal said, you do as he says before letting out a sharp gasp as you felt his cock slowly enter your walls.

“You can take it can’t you? Don’t want to disappoint me now would we?” Hannibal mused watching your face show many expression with uncertainty, uncomfortable and most of all pleasure. “We’re doing something more your pace.” Hannibal said as he raised you up and down on his cock.

“Shh, shh, your doing such an amazing job taking me.” Hannibal whispered against your ear as he began to move your body up down like an toy.

As you cried and whimpered softly Hannibal pressed his mouth against your ear soothing you with an hum.

His cock moving deeper and deeper inside of you as his large hands held you in a firm but gentle grip.

“Such a precious little thing…”

”I would hate to ruin you…”

THE END

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #x male y/n #x bottom reader #x bottom male reader #amab reader #x gn reader #x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal x male reader #hannibal lecter x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #hannibal x reader #slasher x male reader #slasher x reader #slashers x male reader #the bear club

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littlemsdelulu · 1 year ago

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what did doja cat say about big noses again ???

#jeremy allen white #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #shameless #shameless x reader #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #x insert #x reader #littlemsdelulu

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sunskisser · 7 months ago

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hi baby!! for your christmas sleepover can i request the 🧸 with poly!marauders and prompt try to eat please!! thank you so much love bug!!

thank you for the request, my lilypad! hope you like your teddy bear, love you loads 🧸💛

muffin | poly!marauders

— “Try to eat.”

poly!marauders x reader

summary: you feel sick because you haven’t eaten in a bit. your boyfriends take perfect care of you.

tw: nausea, implied ed recovery, just a whole lot of hurt/comfort, our boys are angels fr <3

“Sweetheart,” Sirius coos worriedly as soon as he’s within sight, clearly tipsy as he stumbles towards you and Remus. James follows close behind, one hand on his boyfriend’s back and a pinch between his eyebrows.

You’re crouched on the cold floor of the bathroom, Remus right beside you with his hand on the small of your back. Everything looked like nothing but blurry dots, fading in and out of your vision. You can faintly make out the silhouette of one of your boyfriends flushing your sick down the toilet.

Mary and Lily were throwing a Christmas party at their new place. You and your boyfriends had been here for a couple of hours, Sirius going straight to the food table while James was immediately dragged away by a couple of old pals from the team back in school.

You could see Marlene beckoning to you across the room from the corner of your eye, but opted to stay next to Remus instead. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with your friends, you really did miss them. You just felt really, really sick. It had started as a quiet upheaval in your stomach on the way here, but then started to feel like a full-on tornado. It was as though someone was slamming a hammer against your temple, the metallic taste of bile quickly rising up your throat.

You knew you probably looked worse than you felt. Your hair clinged to the sweat on your forehead, breaths coming out in small, painful huffs. Even your makeup felt smudged, mascara mixing with the perspiration and further adding to the irritation on your skin. It was obvious that Remus had noticed. He asked you if you were okay a couple of times, and you waved him off. His instincts told him to stay right next to you. He was glad he did, because less than a half hour later, you had your hands pressed tightly over your mouth as you gagged, wide-eyed and panicked.

Now you were sat pathetically on the marble tiles of the bathroom, tear-streaked cheeks and burning throat. Sensing your need for space, Remus had resorted to rubbing his thumb over the curve of your ankle while you leaned against the wall opposite. He had quickly texted James about the situation, who gathered up Sirius, in all his inebriated glory, before rushing into the bathroom.

You feel a hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, some things cold and metallic, though not unpleasant, digging into your skin. Sirius’ rings. The same sensation hits you someplace on your hips as you’re steered into another person’s arms. Your back falls snug onto a hard wall of a chest, gentle arms wrapping around your waist.

“Baby? Can you hear me?” James’ voice is soft near the shell of your ear, hands loving where they rub the fat of your stomach. You blink a couple times, vision still hazy but clear enough to pick up on your surroundings. The buzzing in your ears seemed to quieten at your boyfriend’s murmured words.

Your voice comes out as a quiet croak. “Yeah.”

Remus’ hand stills on your ankle, knowing you’d feel overstimulated by the sensation of two people touching your skin in different places. It’s no matter, though, because Sirius is quick to take your hands in his and squeeze them. He looks dangerously close to tears from where he’s kneeling in front of you.

“Are you okay? Do you feel better?”

You clear your throat, trying to muster a weak smile for his sake. “I –”

“What happened? Why did you feel sick? Did you –”

“Siri,” Remus is quick to take initiative, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulder and gently pulling his boyfriend against him. “Relax. She’s okay,” he murmurs, unclear whether he’s trying to reassure Sirius or himself.

The long-haired boy frowns, but doesn’t say much else. Satisfied, Remus turns his attention back to you, eyebrows bunching up concernedly. “Do you feel better, lovely?”

You nod, and it’s a little more convincing than the smile you just tried to flash them. You feel yourself sinking more and more into James’ embrace, the feeling of his thumbs on your stomach distracting you from the searing pain in your gut.

James and Remus share a look. “Dove,” Remus starts softly. You meet his gaze curiously. He reaches out to wipe the tears off of your cheeks, palm settling on the dip of your chin. “You haven’t been eating enough.”

You sigh exasperatedly, opening your mouth to brush it off like you always do. But you’re cut off by James, tone slightly harsh though his touch remains gentle. “He’s right, angel. You’ve been skipping meals these past few weeks.”

“Yeah, and… and when you do eat,” Sirius pipes up, eyes narrowing like it’s taking him tons of effort to form a coherent sentence. It probably was, given the alcohol in his system. “You barely touch your food. You nibble on it, like… like um, a mouse.”

“Guys,” you speak up, feeling their eyes trained on you. Your breathing starts to pick up speed, and you try to ignore the anxiety slushing around in the pit of your stomach. “I’m fine, okay? I eat enough, and I didn’t puke because of that —“

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” James murmurs from behind you. You expect a telling off, maybe even a fight — but there’s nothing but sadness and worry in his voice.

You swallow, feeling your eyes start to sting again. “I’m not doing it on purpose, I swear. I’m trying,” your voice turns shaky as you lock eyes with Remus. He softens, moving forward slightly to take one of your hands in both of his. “We know you are, sweet girl. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah,” James adds quietly, dotting a kiss into your hair. “You were doing so well. You still are. Just let us help you, okay?”

You nod, and almost don’t notice Sirius clumsily pulling himself up and staggering out the bathroom. Remus frowns, turning around and calling out to him, only to receive silence in response. He sighs and turns back to you, continuing to thumb at your palm comfortingly.

The three of you sit in comfortable silence for a bit, the only sound being that of soft kisses as James presses his lips to different parts of your cheek. His hands move sideways from your stomach, coming to rest against the curve of your hips. He feels the empty space between your skin and jeans — jeans which fit you snugly just a month ago. He says nothing, but you feel the disappointment radiating off him and seeping into your skin.

That’s when Sirius bursts in through the door, causing all three of you to glance up startledly. He marches towards you with a hint of determination in his eyes, sitting back down in front of you. He takes one look at you, and everything hard about his expression melts into softness.

“Here,” he mumbles, holding a muffin out to you like a child would. “Try to eat.”

You don’t miss the hint of adoration in Remus’ gaze as he smiles at his boyfriend, then at you encouragingly. “Go on,” James says softly, hands resuming their movement on your stomach.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you reach forward and take the muffin with a quiet murmur of thanks. You swallow and stare at the muffin. It glares back with hostility.

Sirius starts to babble, like he always does when he doesn’t know what else to do. Only this time, he knew exactly what he was doing. He tells you about this weird girl at work who tried to flirt with him.

Between the animated storytelling, Remus’ soft smiles and James’ touches, you find yourself quietly biting into the muffin. You still didn’t feel like you deserved to eat. But you did feel safe. And you wanted to try, for them.

You even let out a laugh when Sirius mentioned the girl’s disgust at finding out about you guys, making him grin. It takes a while, but you finish the muffin. Your boyfriends tell you just how proud they are. You believe them.

san’s christmas sleepover

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mydearestbeloved · 29 days ago

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So...

I'm still having a writer's block on Trial Player AU and I'm stressed out from studying for my upcoming exam on Monday, so I'm thinking of taking a short break by writing something different...

Anyone interested in reading my idea of an Isekaid!Demon(?)!Reader x Saja Boys with a side of Huntrix ?

Where (Name) is: a digruntled manager (read: babysitter) and is basically like a vampire around the Saja Boys; kind of a menace toward Gwi-ma; known by the hunters as "The Anonymous" that helps the Huntrix girls "loosened up a bit" through exchanged letters because apparently their ancestors are, as (Name) quoted it, "Stuck-ups" ; while also dealing with wiping criminals-who-haven't-receive-their-due-karma from the face of the earth on her spare time...

Let me know your thoughts! 🙏🥹💞

P.S. Maybe I'll delete this post later? Idk, let's just see where it goes first...

#Hollow's Talks #trying out something new #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #reader insert #female reader #reader is not oc #reverse harem #saja boys x reader #huntrix x reader #jinu saja #rumi kpdh #abs saja #mira kpdh #romance saja #mystery saja #zoey kpdh #baby saja #the rest after these are experimental tags #cause I'm still not too sure on what I might include in the story #it's a very recent idea so I advise you to not to expect something as developed as TP AU #I'm still gonna try to keep them as in character as much as I can but I'll apologize beforehand for some inevitable ooc-ness #bear with me #definitely some elements of gore #not sure about including yandere or spice yet #kinda powerful reader? I hope I won't make her too op to the point it will be boring #definitely my own made-up lore #cause the movie left so many questions unanswered T-T #one-shot or series?

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tearsof-scarlet · 9 months ago

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situationship - carmy berzatto x reader

situationship

noun

a romantic or sexual relationship that is not considered to be formal or established.

Where one person wants a relationship, but the other person doesn't and they're having sex with each other.

Carmy and you have begun seeing each other after both of your late-night shifts. You both share each other passion for the culinary arts, him in cooking and you in baking. While you have been enjoying his company, the thought of what the two of you were bubbled in the back of your mind. You both lead very stressful lives and the idea of being in a relationship scares you too much to ever consider it. But when Carmy admits he’s falling for you, the vulnerability between you both becomes undeniable. Faced with the possibility of something more, you wrestle with the fear that it might pull you both apart

Contains: Angst

Words: 3680

A/N: yes, the reader is a baker. yes this storyline is one of many similar stories but honestly, I've never loved a dynamic more don’t @ me.

After another long night at the bakery, you slide off your apron, still dusted with flour and the faint scent of freshly baked bread clinging to you. As you locked up the bakery you felt his presence behind you. Carmy’s waiting for you outside, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his face shadowed in the streetlight glow. The small glow from his cigarette dangling from his mouth lightened his face. You know he’s tired too, worn from the brutal hours at the restaurant, but he gives you a small smile when he sees you. You’ve fallen into a routine—meeting up after your shifts, talking in the quiet dark, sharing pastries and leftovers from the night, finding comfort in the company of someone who gets it.

You walk down the street together, sometimes talking about the night’s chaos, sometimes in a companionable silence. Tonight, you asked him about the outcome of his chicken piccata as he talked through changes he made to perfect it. You reach his place, and without words, you both step into his barely-furnished apartment. The emptiness is a familiar comfort. Carmy kicks off his shoes, and you pull a couple of leftover pastries from your bag, placing them on the counter. You would never ask Carmy to cook for you, even though he has persisted many a times. There’s no real plan—there never is—but somehow it works for both of you.

You pull out a plain brioche from the bag and hand it to him, watching as he takes a bite. His eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a low groan, the sound slipping out as if he’d forgotten you were there. You can’t help but smile as he leans back against the counter, savoring each bite like it’s the first real food he’s had all day.

“You added more eggs?” he asks, looking at you through half-lidded eyes, his voice softer, like he’s savoring more than just the bread. There’s a warmth there, something rare in him, almost tender.

You nod, still smiling. “Thought it’d give it a little more richness. Guess it worked.”

Carmy lets out a small laugh, shaking his head in that way he does when he’s impressed but doesn’t want to admit it. “Swear, you make the best baked goods in Chicago,” he says, his voice carrying a rough sincerity that catches you off guard.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter opposite him, crossing your arms as you meet his gaze. “Coming from you? That’s high praise,” you tease, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. But you also feel a knot tighten in your chest—this thing between you two feels good, too good. And you’re not sure where that leaves you.

He looks away for a moment, the casual confidence flickering, replaced by something a little darker, a little hesitant. “Nah, I mean it,” he says, his voice softer. “You know, if I could bake like you…” He trails off, his eyes downcast, as if he’s lost in a thought he’s not sure he wants to share. His words crush you, the blindness to see how talented he is.

Carmy’s eyes linger on you, something unreadable flickering beneath the exhaustion. Then, without a word, he steps closer, his gaze fixed on you like he’s finally found the courage to say what he couldn’t before. Slowly, deliberately, he leans in and brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth. The kiss is barely there, light as a whisper, but it sends a pulse through you, both familiar and brand new.

You let out a soft breath, and for a heartbeat, you’re both suspended in this moment, standing there in the quiet intimacy of his dim kitchen, the glow of streetlights casting faint shadows on the walls. He pauses, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breaths shallow. His eyes find yours, intense yet hesitant, and you see the silent question lingering there—Is this okay?

Without waiting for him to overthink it, you tilt your head, closing the gap between you again, this time more certain, more wanting. Your hands rise to his jaw, your thumbs brushing against the stubble as you pull him in. He sighs softly into the kiss, letting his guard slip, the tension melting from his shoulders as his hands settle at your waist, gentle but grounding.

He tastes faintly of cigarettes and coffee, rough around the edges, but it only makes him feel more real, more him. His fingers curl slightly into your shirt, pulling you closer, and his kiss deepens, a quiet intensity beneath it, as if he’s pouring everything he can’t say into this single, shared breath. You feel his exhaustion in every movement, in the way he clings to you just a little tighter, like he’s afraid this moment will disappear if he lets go.

He pulls back, just enough to look at you, his face softened, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. He’s breathing hard, but his expression is raw and open, a rare vulnerability slipping through his guarded exterior.

“I—” He stops, as if he doesn’t trust himself to keep going. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the effort it takes him to let down even a fraction of the walls he’s built. His thumb traces small, absentminded circles along your side, grounding himself.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whisper, gently running a hand through his hair, letting him know that he doesn’t have to be anything other than what he is, right here, right now.

“This… us…,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. “I want this to be more than… whatever we’re doing right now.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and a part of you aches at his honesty, his vulnerability. But there’s a knot of doubt tightening in your chest, one you can’t ignore. You pull back, just enough to create a sliver of space between you, and shake your head.

“Carmy, I don’t… I don’t think it’ll work,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “We’re both too wrapped up in our own worlds. You’re at that restaurant every waking hour, and I’m at the bakery. It’s—this isn’t workable.”

He stares at you, his brows knitting together, a flash of hurt crossing his face before it hardens into something more desperate. “No. No, I don’t buy that,” he says, a raw edge to his voice. “You think I don’t know how much you love what you do? I get it. I’m the same way, and I’m still here, wanting this.”

You shake your head, frustration and a pang of sadness welling up inside you. “You don’t get it, Carm. It’s not just about wanting it. We’re both so… driven, so wrapped up in what we do, that there’s no room for anything else. We’d be pulling each other apart.”

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer, his hands still gripping your arms, holding on as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “I don’t believe that,” he insists, his voice trembling. “I know I’m all-in with the restaurant, but I’m not blind to this. I know what we have here, and I’m not ready to just walk away from it. Don’t… don’t tell me it wouldn’t work without even trying.”

You close your eyes, your heart pounding, his words striking at the walls you’re trying to put up. “Carmy, you’re already on the edge. You’re exhausted every night, and so am I. How much more can we take on? If we get closer, if this turns into something serious, it’ll just… complicate things. And I don’t want to be another thing that drains you, that wears you down.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, his hands dropping to his sides as he steps back, his face contorted with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You think you’d drain me?” he says, practically begging you to see things his way. “You’re one of the few things that makes any of this worth it. Do you get that? I spend all day, every damn day, feeling like I’m just barely keeping it together, but when I’m with you, I actually… I actually breathe.”

His words hang in the air, raw and exposed, and it’s clear how much he’s putting on the line. You want to reach out, to take his hand, but the doubt won’t let go. “I’m not saying I don’t feel something for you, Carm,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just… I’m scared that this will just become another thing you end up resenting when it gets hard. And you and I both know how that goes.”

Carmy’s fists clench at his sides, his gaze locked on yours, his eyes almost pleading. “Please. Just… please, don’t shut this down before we even have a chance. I’m trying here. I know I’m a mess, but I’m trying.” His voice breaks a little, and he shakes his head, his expression desperate. “You think I don’t worry about this too? About what it could do to us? But I’d rather try and make it work than regret not even giving it a shot.”

You shake your head, the weight of his words lingering in the air, but the reality of what you're asking him to do presses down on you. Your heart aches as you step back, putting space between you two, as if distance will make this easier. But it doesn’t. It only makes it harder.

“I can’t do this right now, Carmy,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, strained, the words leaving your mouth like they’re coated in regret. “I just… can’t.”

The look in his eyes is like a punch to the chest—hope and desperation all tangled up, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. But you can’t. You already know how much this will hurt both of you. You take a shaky breath, pulling yourself together even though it feels like you’re falling apart.

Without waiting for him to respond, you grab your bag, trying not to meet his gaze. “I’ll see you around,” you manage to say, voice shaky as you step toward the door. But before you reach the handle, you hear his voice, quieter this time but still full of that urgency.

“Don’t walk away from this, please.”

You don’t look back. You can’t. You step out into the cold night air, the door closing softly behind you.

As you make your way home, your chest feels heavy, like you’re carrying an anchor. It’s hard to breathe, and your mind keeps replaying the last few minutes—the kiss, his words, the way his face twisted with hurt, desperation, and longing. But you couldn’t—you couldn’t—let it happen, not when you know how much it could destroy.

Once you’re home, you try to shake it off, try to ignore the way your heart aches. But the ache doesn’t go away. In the silence of your room, you crawl into bed, trying to sleep. You manage to close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come easily. And then, your phone buzzes—one message. You pick it up, and it’s from Carmy.

“you are my favourite person. you make everything worth it”

Your heart stutters. You clutch the phone to your chest, feeling the weight of his words hit you all over again. You don’t know how to respond. How could you? He’s asking you to step into something that could break you both. And yet… his words cling to you like they have their own gravity.

Eventually, you force your eyes shut and try to sleep, but it feels impossible. Every time you start to drift off, his face pops into your mind, and you’re back there again—back to that moment in his kitchen, the rawness of his words, the hunger in his eyes.

The next morning, you wake to the harsh sound of your alarm ringing at 4 AM, your body aching from exhaustion but knowing you have to get up. The bakery won’t open itself, and the hours of work ahead of you keep your mind busy. You roll out of bed, washing up quickly before pulling on your apron and heading downstairs. The familiar smells of dough, sugar, and flour fill the air as you prepare for the day’s bake. Your hands move through the motions, mind drifting despite your best efforts to focus.

But when you walk into the bakery, you freeze. There, standing in the doorway, is Carmy. He’s leaning against the wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking just as worn and exhausted as the night before. But there’s something else there now—a determination that cuts through the exhaustion, a silent resolve.

"Can we talk?" he asks, voice softer than you expect.

You swallow hard, staring at him for a long beat before nodding. You don’t know what else to do, and despite everything, there’s a part of you that wants to hear him out.

You step aside, letting him into the dark, deserted bakery. The kitchen lights flicker on as you walk past him, the quiet hum of the refrigerator and ovens filling the silence. He follows you in, his steps tentative, unsure.

Once inside, he leans against the counter, hands still deep in his jacket pockets, looking out of place in the quiet emptiness of the bakery. You begin your prep—kneading dough, measuring flour—but you’re acutely aware of his presence, the air thick with things unsaid. Finally, when you can’t stand the silence any longer, you look up at him.

“What is it, Carmy?” you ask, your voice unsteady.

He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes not quite meeting yours, studying the counter like it holds all the answers. Finally, he takes a breath, running a hand through his messy hair.

“I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for,” he starts, his voice low but clear. “But I don’t know how to walk away from you. I know we’re both stuck in our worlds, but…” He pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something here worth fighting for.”

Your heart twists. You feel the weight of his words, the sincerity that bleeds through even as he stands there, vulnerable and unsure. You keep your focus on the dough, pretending to be absorbed in it even though you can feel his eyes on you, waiting.

“I don’t know what to think,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m asking for a chance. Just a shot. I know what it’s like to want something so bad you can feel it, but I don’t want to live the rest of my life wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t tried. Please, just… just tell me I’m not crazy for feeling this way.”

His voice falters, and it feels like the room shrinks around you. You can hear the vulnerability in him, the way he’s baring himself just for you. Carmy’s breath catches in the silence, and the weight of his gaze presses on you until it feels suffocating.

His words hang in the air, like a challenge you don’t know if you can meet. You feel your heart tug in response, the truth of what he’s saying pulling you in even though your mind is screaming at you to be cautious, to keep the distance. The space between your bodies feels impossibly small, but you remain still, your hands working the dough almost mechanically, as if you can control the moment by staying focused on something—anything—else.

But Carmy doesn’t give you the space you’re looking for. Without warning, his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist firmly, pulling your arm away from the dough. Your breath hitches in surprise as his fingers curl around you, the warmth of his touch searing through your skin.

“Look at me,” he demands softly, his voice a breathless plea.

You lift your eyes to meet his, and the vulnerability in his gaze is more than you can bear. He takes a slow breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort, before he finally says the words that you’ve been dreading, and yet somehow needing to hear.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says, his voice thick, almost cracking. His words are out before he can stop them, and you can see the rawness of them—how much he means it. “But I think the day I saw you, I knew something was going to change.”

The air between you is charged now, electric. Your heart races in your chest, and for the first time, you’re no longer fighting the pull between you. His eyes are searching yours, looking for some kind of answer, some reassurance that this isn’t all just a fantasy to him. The room feels impossibly small, the weight of the moment pressing down, but it’s not a weight you want to escape.

Before you can say anything, your hands move on their own, pulling him toward you, your lips crashing into his with a force that surprises you both. His hand slides into your hair, the other slipping around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he can’t bear even a sliver of distance between you. The kiss is hungry, desperate, all the words neither of you can say poured into it, all the fear, the longing, the possibility of something more.

You taste the rawness of him—coffee, cigarettes, the trace of exhaustion—and it only makes him feel more real, more human. Your hands tangle in his shirt, pulling him tighter, as if you could make the moment last forever, as if you could erase all the doubts that have lingered between you.

The kiss deepens, and you feel his body pressed against yours, the heat of him seeping through the space between your clothes. There’s no room for anything else now—no bakery, no restaurant, no walls between you. Just this. Just him.

When you finally pull back, both of you panting, eyes searching each other’s faces as if trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions rushing through both of you, you realize that this is it. There’s no turning back now.

“I’m not crazy, am I?” Carmy whispers, his voice shaky with something close to hope, but tinged with doubt.

You shake your head slowly, your heart in your throat. “No,” you whisper back, barely able to breathe. “You’re not crazy.”

He laughs, the sound low and rich, burying his head into your neck as his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and for a moment, everything else fades away. "I’m going to make this work, I swear, baby." The words are soft but firm, wrapped in the kind of sincerity that makes your heart ache with a gentle kind of joy.

You smile, feeling his words settle deep in your chest, and kiss him gently on the cheek, your lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Now get out, I’ve got ten dozen croissants to make before 7am.” Your voice is teasing, but there's a tenderness behind it, a quiet promise that everything will be okay.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes searching yours, a playful spark dancing there. "You don’t need help?" he asks, eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, like he's already planning to do whatever it takes to stay by your side. Without waiting for your response, he’s already rolling up his sleeves, his movements so effortless, so sure.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the laugh that escapes, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. “Fine," you concede with a mock sternness, but your heart is fluttering. "But follow my instructions and don’t change any of the ingredients, Berzatto." You half threaten, the words playful but laced with affection, like a gentle challenge.

He smirks, "Yes, ma’am," his voice rich with amusement, before he turns toward the sink. The soft sound of water running fills the kitchen, but all you can focus on is the way he moves—confident, but somehow always a little clumsy in the best way. When he turns back, you can’t help but laugh softly at the sight of flour already dotting his clothes and smudging his face from your make out session.

You watch him, your heart warming at the sight of him trying so hard, his smile a little sheepish but full of that genuine joy that you’ve come to love. There’s something about him in this moment—so real, so raw, and so undeniably him and it makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

You shake your head, unable to stop your own smile from spreading wider. He looks like a mess, but in the best way, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels so right.

And as you stand there, the soft hum of the bakery in the background, the smell of fresh dough filling the air, you realize that despite the chaos of your worlds, despite the unknowns that lie ahead, you wouldn’t change a thing. And you know, without a doubt, that this is only the beginning.

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newtkive · 1 year ago

Text

shift shenanigans - social media au (pt. 2)

note: yes there’s the main work chat w carmy, the secret coworker chat w/o carmy, and the secret secret bestie chat w syd, marcus, and yourself. it would be canon.

warnings: crude humor, slightly offensive jokes

part one

liked by carmyberzatto, marcus.brooks11 and 40 others

chefboyardee: life lately

see all 9 comments

syd_adamu: that pho was life changing

↳ chefboyardee: i think it was the best i’ve ever had

marcus.brooks11: feet off the table @syd_adamu

↳ chefboyardee: leave my girl alone

↳ richietheking: I knew you guys were lez

↳ syd_adamu: we aren’t and you can’t say that

↳ chefboyardee: oh.. we aren’t? ☹️😔

↳ syd_adamu: 😑

carmyberzatto: 🍲🔥

THE GOLDEN TRIO

[ 7:45 AM ]

y/n: did you see

did you see

did

you

see

ogmgokggkowkfofsk

syd: pardon??

what did richie do oh my god

did he post another picture of him with the gun from that one day

fuckkkk carmys gonna be so mad

marcus: nope i wish

y/n: he commented on my post 😭😭😭😭

syd: who

marcus: think about it

who else would cause this reaction

y/n: carmy!!!!!!!

i woke up to him commenting 🍲🔥 😍😍😍😍

syd: woah and the heart eyes?

y/n: no that’s my addition

syd: the bar is in hell

HES YOUR BOSS

y/n: AND I WANT HIS BABIES??

marcus: y’all so hype to be pregnant THEN BOOOMMM ‼️ THE BABY’S UGLY AND BALD WITH ECZEMA 😩🤨

syd: LMFAOOOOO WHOS YALL THO????

y/n: bye im done

im leaving for work.

don’t talk to me ever again

done.

marcus: bye 👋

why do you leave so early fool

syd: so she can be teachers pet

marcus: smh always there before everyone

y/n: not true.

syd: i thought you weren’t talking to us

y/n: 😒

marcus: want me to bring y’all an iced latte again

y/n: …. 😁

WORK

[ 8:15 AM ]

y/n: AYOOOO

great job cleaning up after work yesterday 😊👍

richie: Is this a joke?

y/n: why would i joke about such a thing

carmy: Y/n what are you doing

y/n: u said to tell everyone their housekeeping is shitty

carmy: No I said I was going to tell them that, and you said no I’ll do it

This is not what I meant

y/n: well you yell too much

marcus: ouch

that’s my station 😔

carmy: Well clean it better

y/n: im using reverse psychology and positive reinforcement

carmy: Not what that means

y/n: well notice how no one’s mad at me

im making alliances day by day

richie: You’ve worked here for two years and we are already friends

y/n: so you’re saying you aren’t my ally

richie: No

We are definitley in an alliance

y/n: love u richie

richie: Don’t go that far

chefboyardee’s instagram stories

WE HAVE THE BEEF 🥩

[ 3:25 PM ]

y/n:

he so fine im bouta cermmmmm

syd: …..

marcus: :O

y/n: why are you acting shocked

like i haven’t said this daily

tina: Woah girl who?

y/n: HUH

richie: I’m not in the picture I don’t get it

syd: let’s just keep working before carmy notices

tina: I don’t care I’m on smoke break. Who are you talking about girl? Spill the tea..

marcus: she was talking about me you guys

y/n: the guy in the back

oh i mean yeah marcus

tina: The meat delivery guy? He has a wife..

y/n: we are having an affair

marcus: no it’s about me

richie: I didn’t know Marcus and Y/n were a thing..

tina: Something ain’t right. No way they are.

marcus: we aren’t it’s just our sense of humor

y/n: i was just being funny!

tina: What did Jeff just yell inside?

syd: came out of the office and said “just cuz we’re slow doesn’t mean you can play on your phones” 👍💯

tina: Whatever. No chance Y/n meant Marcus. You got the hots for Jeffrey?

y/n: what no

tina: Well I wouldn’t blame you. He’s cute

y/n: OMG RIGHTTTTTTT

its the tattoos isn’t it

richie: You have to be fucking joking

tina: I was playing..

y/n: im confused

syd: that was cruel

marcus: who cares it’s not a big deal

y/n: so you don’t think he’s cute tina?? ☹️☹️

tina: No he is cute… for you 😝

y/n: this is humiliating

richie: I’ll tell him

y/n: NO

stop

sSTOP THATS NOT FUNNY

richie im not joking i’ll put a bomb in your floorboards

richie: I’m just fucking with you kid

tina: This isn’t over.

THE GOLDEN TRIO:

[ 3:40 PM ]

syd: y/n….

marcus: you look like a ghost y/n

y/n: i cannot believe i sent that to the wrong gc

i’m done im so done

marcus: stop looking so sad it’s making me feel bad

syd: it’s okay! just be thankful it wasn’t to the work groupchat with him in it..

marcus: true it could be worse

y/n: i guess so

thank you for trying to cover for me marcus

marcus: anytime you know i got you

syd: let’s get back to work before we start looking obvious

1K notes · View notes

bunny-jpeg · 1 year ago

Text

bear den

bear!john price

cw: pwp/smut, hybrid!au, bunny!reader, bear!price, scenting, breeding, biting, headlock, doggy style, dirty talk, reverse cowgirl

bunny says and you'll never catch me alive!

edit: part two

to be with a bear was something interesting. especially one as much of a lover as price. oh price was just perfect all over. those blue eyes that made you feel protected and warm. that strong grip of his as he bullied his cock into you. he was a strong, with a bit of softness to him and hairy all over. he loved tugging on your little bunny ears while he slammed his cock into your sweet pussy.

the first time you met him. it was quite scary. the dead of winter deep within the woods you called home. you managed to get your way into the warmth of his cabin/den. but your mother told you to never enter the den of a bear. what you soon saw was the lumbering form of bear hybrid.

"what are you doin' here?" he grumbled. his voice heavy was sleep. he was in hibernation after all. but his cock was hard in his sweat pants. he yawned, "if you're gonna make yourself at home. it's gonna cost ya."

the curious bunny gave head to the hairy bear. a tale as old as time. but the notion of bunny cunt seemed to entice the bear and he grabbed you by the ears and dragged you back into his den. the smell of bear was a lot for you, the dominate scent even made you iron resolve crumble. the wetness in your worn panties.

'this'll do." he grumbled as he tossed you on the bed. he got you under the covers. tore off your meager clothes and fucked your bunny hole half asleep. you on the other hand were wide awake. the breath taken out of you. he got through two rounds before his sleepiness took over and he went back to sleep.

he kept you after that, he told you a little bunny like you needed to be protected. who knew what was out there, in the deep darkness of the forest. so you spent the following seasons with him.

you became his lover, he even planted a carrot garden for you when the snow melted. oh he loved his bunny. he loved to tug on your cotton tail or take you by the face to look at him while he had you pressed up against the side of the cabin and your back bent.

but when winter came, he made sure his bunny was taken care of while he was asleep. bunnies could hibernate if they felt safe enough, but you wouldn't be dead to the world if you did.

but in all fairness, the smell of bunny in his cabin didn't keep him asleep for long. you woke up in the morning, snow was pressed up against the window. but the sun shined in.

the smell of price in your bedroom was overwhelming. the room was small, but the big was large. but price's hairy body still made you feel small on the bed. so the smell of the bear hung heavy. the bed had every blanket, pillow, sweater, stuffed animals, anything else he could find to make his nest. the final piece was you. where he tucked you in and snuggled you until he eventually dozed off.

you had been asleep for over a day now, you looked over and saw him sound asleep. you reached for him and kissed him on the nose. his arm was heavy over you. you shifted in your spot and got out from under him.

but you couldn't get out of bed. as he grabbed you by the tail. "where ya goin', love.' he said with sleep heavy in his voice, "i didn't tell ya you could leave." then you were dragged back into bed with a 'hmfph'.

he snuggled you back into his arms, "you don't have my smell on ya." he grumbled as he rubbed his face up against your bare chest. there was no point in having clothes on while in the nest. you were under so many layers you were already warm enough.

"john!" you squeaked as his tongue came out and started to lick across your pulse, "it's only us in the entire area. plus it's only to the kitchen."

"no." he said, he ran his teeth across your pulse, "gotta smell like me." you made a noise as he, in tired trance, got you on your hands and knees. the weight of the blankets and his larger body kept you pinned to the soft mattress.

"john!" you whined, "c'mon!"

he grumbled something. his cock slid up and down your pussy as he tried to push it into you. you arched your back in anticipation. poor price, his head was full of sleepy cotton. he relied on instinct and right now it was directing him to breed his little nest mate.

you moaned, to have your face buried in the pillow. that reeked of your lover only made you wet between your legs. as if the leftover cum from your lover wasn't enough lube for his impressive size. he was big all over. so different from your tiny bunny self, no wondered he wanted to protect you.

and breed you.

your heart raced as he finally got his cock into you. he sank into your sweet cunt. he groaned as he leaned over you and put his arm around your neck and bent your back. his thrusts were sloppy, there was no rhyme or reason, only what felt good.

"you feel so good, love.' he grumbled, "always so perfect for me." his gaze was unfocused, his voice sleepy and slurred, "a good little bunny for me. with your cotton tail and those ears. my girl though, right? all mine? not gonna have ya run off with a coyote or somethin'. keep ya home, keep ya full." he gave you a lazy smile as our eyes met. he leaned in and licked across your cheek. his bear ears twitched at the taste of your soft skin against his rough tongue.

your core throbbed, the entire feeling. the coziness of your den that you shared with price left you feel soft and warm. you were comfortable and safe, so why not let price breed you? you were already so soft and warm, let your brain let it go and accept him.

he held you close to him, bent to his liking to have the best angle of your pussy. his broad paws were all over you, he held your throat and around your middle as he thrusted up into you.

"john." you whimpered, your focus was hazy and your thoughts dripped away like melted snow. the sun shined thought the window of your den, it bathed you in a bright glow.

"i know. i know." he purred, he blinked to get a little more awake, "so small. i could crush ya easily. poor little bunny got caught up with a big bad bear. now she sharin' a nest with him and letting him bully her sweet little cunny."

his words made your brain mushy.

the bed creaked under your love making, he still held you like a toy for his pleasure. he lazily made out with you as he moved you up and down his cock. he groaned, his lips close against yours, "my girl. my little bunny. i love the feeling of ya around me."

you made small noises and hearty pants as the movements continued. as he kept ramming against your sweet sex. you were a right fit for him. after all these months you still were so good for him.

he watched your focus come in and out. your tongue stuck a little out of your mouth. the little bunny had her brains fucked out, oh no! he let go of you. his hands on you as he maneuvered your once more and got you into a reverse cowgirl. the blankets were kicked to the bottom of the bed.

he was propped up against the headboard and kept you in his lap. his cock buried into your slick pussy. he held onto your hips and bounced you on his cock. he wished he could see your breasts bounce with every thrust, but to watch the sweat drip down your back.

your nest got heated, your scent bled a little bit into the air of the room. it was musky and comforting. to be fucked by a bear was something unlike anything you could describe. he just fit you so right.

"good girl."

"john."

"i know, i know." he groaned. the rush of pleasure raced through his body as it did yours. he felt the same euphoric of having his cock buried into his sweet mate. he made sure that his scent was all over you, he was certain it would stick this time.

you leaned forward and held onto the covers that were between his legs. he watched how your pussy swallowed up his cock with each movements of your hips. he licked his lips as he moved your faster.

he watched your cotton-tail twitch, it almost made him cum at that moment. he continued to move your hips, the rush of climax almost washed over him.

the two of you made love like animals in your nest that he had built for you. to protect you. his cock throbbed in your cunt and with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you.

"ah!" you whined as you arched your back. you came as well and clutched onto the sheets. your toes curled and you felt your heart racing.

price felt content as he smothered you in his pecs. they were softer and hairy. he had gotten a little thicker for the winter. you made a soft noise as you were buried in them.

"john."

"i know bunny, i got ya. now sh, time to go back to sleep." he purred as he grabbed the blankets with one hand but kept you to him with the other. he buried you back under the nest of blankets.

yeah, that sounded like a great idea. you weren't even too sure if you could walk if you got up. so with the glow of the morning sun peeking through your window, you fell back asleep with your face in your mate's chest.

it was spring now. but you and your bear mate have been slow to wake up for it. price still was in a tired mindset, constantly cuddled up to your partially swollen belly. you were only four months, but price still adored how you carried his cub.

he made a gruff noise and cuddled up with your middle further. his facial hair which had grown over hibernation brushed up against your exposed middle. such a cute little bunny and her adoring mate.

you ran your fingers through your hair as you heard the birds chirp outside and the sound of melting snow. next winter it would be you, price and your little cub all sharing a nest to sleep soundly through the winter <3

xoxo,

bunny

part two <3

4K notes · View notes

romerona · 6 months ago

Text

The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

When the snowstorm hit, The Bear had no choice but to close, much to Carmy's dismay. He tried to tell himself he could use the time—clean his apartment, read a book, maybe experiment with some recipes—but the thought of sitting in silence, in stillness, made his chest tighten.

Desperate to do something, Carmy had ventured out to the store for some essentials to pass the storm—milk, coffee, cigarettes, bread—anything to keep his hands busy. But as he returned to his apartment building, patting his jacket for his keys, his stomach sank.

"No, no, no..." They weren’t there. Not in his jacket, not in his pants pocket, not even in the grocery bag. Gone. "FUCK!!"

After circling the building twice, retracing his steps, and swearing under his breath at least ten times per minute, Carmy gave up. The snow was falling harder now, and the biting cold seeped into his bones. The growing frustration knotted his shoulders as he called the building’s landlord.

“I'll be there as soon as the snow clears,” the voice on the other end had said. “Probably by morning.”

Morning. Fuck.

With no other options, he’d slumped down against the wall near his apartment door, grocery bags at his feet. At least it was warm inside the building.

He sat there, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. The stillness felt suffocating, the hum of the heater mocking him with its quiet insistence. The cold of the building seeped through his hoodie, but he didn’t care. What else was there to do? He didn’t want to call anyone but the realization that he might be stuck outside his own apartment all night made him feel a little desperate.

The sound of the elevator dinging down the hall barely registered until it opened. He kept his head down, arms resting on his knees, eyes closed as though he could will himself to forget the situation. He didn’t notice the footsteps until they stopped right in front of him.

“Carmy?” Your voice cut through the quiet like a spark.

The familiar voice snapped him out of his haze, and he looked up to see you standing there, bundled in a colourful coat and scarf, a faint dusting of snow still clinging to your hair. Your arms were full of takeout bags, and your expression was a mix of confusion and concern.

“Hey,” he muttered, sitting up straighter and rubbing a hand over his face. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

“Well, I live here,” you said, setting your takeout on the floor before crouching beside him. “But I didn’t expect to see you sitting on the floor like a lost puppy. What’s going on?”

He hesitated, his pride fighting against the urge to explain. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lost my keys.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Lost them where?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here,” he muttered, his tone dry but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with his snark. “Fair point. How long have you been out here?”

Carmy shrugged. “I don’t know. A while.”

“A while?” you repeated, your voice incredulous. “Carmy, it’s freezing. Why didn’t you call someone?"

He looked away, his expression a mix of discomfort and embarrassment. “Didn’t want to bother anyone.”

You frowned, glancing toward his door and then back at him. “So you were just gonna sit here all night? What, wait or divine intervention? Or are you hoping your door grows a conscience and lets you in?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a faint, self-deprecating smirk.

You tilt your head like you were assessing a puzzle. “You look miserable. Not in the charming, tortured artist way, you usually do. Just straight-up pitiful. No offense.”

Carmy blinked, he did not know if that counted as something of a compliment, “... None taken,”

You sighed, shaking your head as you stood abruptly, brushing off your knees. “C’mon, let’s get you out of the hallway before you turn into a Carmy-shaped popsicle.”

“What?” he asked, looking up at you.

“You're coming to my place,” you said firmly, gesturing toward the door in front of his. “I'm not letting you sit in the hallway all night like some tragic Dickensian orphan. You’ll freeze.”

Carmy hesitated, his instinct to refuse warring with the warmth in your voice. “You don’t have to—”

You cut him off with a pointed look.

“I just spent two hours with Ava, who insisted on treating me to an impromptu ‘ladies’ day,’ which turned into me carrying her shopping bags. I am not in the mood to argue. So, get up, Chef Brooding.” You picked up your takeout bags and gestured for him to follow.

“I’m fine, really,” Carmy said, shaking his head. “Don’t want to bother you.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You’d know if you were bothering me. This is me being benevolent. Now, are you getting up, or do I have to drag you? Because I will. And I’m stronger than I look.”

Carmy let out a soft huff, shaking his head as he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his bags. “You’re really not giving me a choice, are you?”

“Nope,” you said brightly, turning to unlock the door of your apartment.

As soon as you opened the door, Carmy was hit with a faint scent of cinnamon and a wave of warmth, the kind that made him realize just how cold he’d been sitting in that hallway. He stepped inside, glancing around as you kicked off your snow-dusted boots and motioned for him to do the same.

“Shoes off, please,” you instructed, kicking yours off by the door and disappearing into the kitchen. “I don’t need melted snow turning my floor into a Slip ’n Slide.”

He obeyed, toeing off his sneakers and setting the grocery bags on the counter. The apartment was small but vibrant, filled with personality in a way Carmy couldn’t help but find... comforting. The walls were a warm cream, though much of them were hidden behind shelves crammed with books, mismatched picture frames, and an assortment of plants that looked like they thrived under your care. A string of fairy lights zigzagged along the windows, casting a soft hue across the room, and a woven rug—splashed with reds, blues, and yellows—anchored the cozy seating area.

The couch was an explosion of color, piled high with throw pillows in every imaginable pattern. A quilt draped over the back looked like it had been handmade, and a small coffee table was cluttered with books, an empty mug with the phrase World’s Okayest Teacher, and what looked suspiciously like a half-finished embroidery project.

On the counter, a ceramic cookie jar in the shape of a llama grinned at him, and next to it sat a stack of papers. Everything about the space was warm, a little chaotic, but somehow effortlessly inviting.

“I wasn’t planning on imposing,” he said after a moment, taking in the space around him.

“You’re not imposing,” you replied, handing him a pair of fluffy socks from a nearby basket. “You’re being rescued. Big difference.”

He stared at the socks—bright orange with cartoon foxes on them—then looked at you. “These yours?”

“Yup,” you said with zero shame as you make your way to the kitchen. “Consider it part of the ‘Guest Package.’ Now, make yourself at home, I'll make us something hot.”

“Uh... sure,” Carmy said, his voice quiet as he wandered further into the room. His gaze drifted to the dog bed tucked under the window—there, on a cushioned dog bed of all things, sat a pigeon—brown, fluffy, and completely at ease. It was curled up, its head tucked under its wing, slumbering as if it owned the place, oblivious to Carmy’s bewildered stare.

For a moment, Carmy wondered if he was hallucinating.

“Hey,” he called, glancing toward the kitchen. “Uh… you know there’s a pigeon in here, right?”

"Hmm?" You poked your head out from behind the cupboard, following his gaze.

“Oh, that’s Gus,” you said nonchalantly as if pigeons lounging on dog beds were an everyday occurrence. “He’s not a pet or anything. Just... kind of showed up one day. I think he was someone’s ‘release dove’ for a wedding or something, but he clearly decided he liked me better.”

Carmy blinked, shifting his gaze between you and Gus. “And... he just lives here now?”

“Well, not technically,” you said, grabbing a pair of mugs from the cabinet. “He comes and goes as he pleases. But he sleeps here most nights. Guess he appreciates my excellent hospitality.”

“Right,” Carmy muttered, still watching Gus as the pigeon let out a soft coo, completely unbothered.

“Hot chocolate okay?” you asked, snapping his attention back to you.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, stepping further into the apartment. The smell of chocolate wafted through the air as you stirred something in a small pot on the stove, and he realized the space felt almost alive with warmth—not just in temperature but in personality. It was so... you.

His eyes wandered again, taking in more details of your space. The small dining table was half-covered with papers—lesson plans, probably, a half-finished puzzle—and a childlike drawing of a sunflower sat front and center, its colors vibrant and cheerful. The edges of the paper were slightly crinkled, but you’d clearly kept it with care. Near the couch, a pair of fluffy slippers lay abandoned, one toppled over as if you’d kicked them off in a hurry.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” you said, glancing up from the stove as if you’d caught him mid-thought. Your tone was casual, but there was a hint of self-consciousness in it, like you were bracing for judgment. “I didn’t expect to host anyone during a snowstorm.”

“It’s not a mess,” Carmy said quietly, his gaze lingering on the twinkling string lights. “It’s... nice.”

“Nice?” you echoed, a playful lilt in your voice as you poured the hot chocolate into two mismatched mugs. One had a cheerful snowman on it; the other had the phrase Not Today, Satan in bold letters. “That’s high praise coming from you, Chef Carmy.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned against the counter, watching you finish the drinks. You handed him the snowman mug, the hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and topped with rainbow sprinkles.

“Thanks,” he said softly, the warmth of the mug sinking into his cold fingers.

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, motioning toward the couch. “Go sit. Warm up. Gus might even share the dog bed if you ask nicely.”

Carmy took a seat on your couch and glanced at where the bird, was still nestled on its makeshift throne. His expression teetered between confusion and amusement. “Why’d you name the pigeon Gus?”

“Well,” you began, grinning as you set your mug down and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch. “He’s got a very Gus vibe. You know, dependable, grounded. Plus, I think he likes it.”

Carmy raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Pretty sure pigeons don’t care about names.”

“Gus does,” you replied, wrapping the blanket over your lap and settling in beside him with mock seriousness. “He’s refined. A pigeon of culture. Look at him—he’s living the dream. Warm bed, no rent, no responsibilities. It’s the life.”

Carmy huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he sank into the other end of the couch. His mug sat warm in his hands, the whipped cream melting into the chocolate and blending with the colorful sprinkles. He took a slow sip, letting the rich warmth settle in his chest.

“So,” you started, shifting under the blanket you’d wrapped around yourself. “What’s something no one ever expects about you?”

The question caught him off guard, and his brow furrowed as he glanced at you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like... something people wouldn’t guess just by looking at you,” you explained, tilting your head. “Something random, unexpected. For example, I’m freakishly good at those claw machines at arcades.”

Carmy huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, grinning. “I’ve got a whole collection of stuffed animals to prove it. My proudest moment was winning three in one go. The guy running the arcade looked like he wanted to kick me out.”

“Let me guess,” Carmy said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re one of those people who has a ‘method.’”

“Damn right I do,” you replied, leaning forward with mock seriousness. “It’s all in the timing. You’ve got to line it up perfectly and commit. None of that panicking halfway through and letting the claw drop nonsense.”

“Noted,” he said with a chuckle. “Alright. Something unexpected... I don’t know. I guess I—” He hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly on the side of his mug. “I used to be into puzzles. Like, big, complicated ones.”

Your eyes lit up, and you gestured toward the half-finished puzzle on your coffee table. “No way. Me too! Well, kind of. I’m more of a casual puzzler. That one’s been sitting there for weeks.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he teased, nodding toward the scattered pieces. “You’re not exactly flying through it.”

“Hey, I’m busy, okay?” you shot back, laughing. “But seriously, puzzles? That’s cool. What kind? Like landscapes or those impossible ones with a thousand pieces of just sky?”

“Both, I guess,” he said, shrugging. “I liked the challenge. Felt... calming.”

You nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah. There’s something nice about piecing things together. Feels like you’re fixing something, even if it’s just a picture.”

Carmy looked down at his mug, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t really do it anymore, though. Too much else going on.”

“Maybe you should,” you suggested, your tone light but sincere. “Could be good for you. Something just for you, you know?”

He didn’t reply immediately, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow. “Alright, your turn. Something unexpected.”

“Hmm,” you mused, leaning back against the couch. “Okay, this is gonna sound weird, but... I used to want to be a cryptozoologist.”

“A what?” Carmy asked, his brow furrowing.

“Cryptozoologist,” you repeated, grinning. “You know, someone who studies mythical creatures. Like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. I was convinced I’d grow up to prove they existed.”

Carmy blinked, clearly trying to process that. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” you said, laughing. “I had notebooks full of research—drawings, ‘sightings,’ theories. I even tried to build a Nessie tracker out of a walkie-talkie and a coat hanger once.”

He let out a laugh. “You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

“Not when it matters,” you replied with a playful shrug, your eyes glinting with mischief. “What about you? Any weird childhood dreams? Like, I don’t know... being an astronaut or starting a rock band?”

Carmy hesitated, his lips pressing into a thoughtful line. It took a moment before he finally spoke, his tone quieter. “Not really. I mean, cooking was always kind of... it. It felt right. It’s like a family thing, I guess. My brother was into it too—he loved it.”

Your curiosity piqued at the mention of his family.

“You have a brother?” you asked, your head tilting with interest.

“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, the words carrying a weight he didn’t fully unpack. “Mikey. And I’ve got a sister too—Sugar. Well, her name’s Natalie, but we’ve been calling her Sugar forever.”

“That’s cute,” you said with a warm smile. “Are you the youngest?”

“Yeah,” Carmy replied, running a hand through his hair, a subtle habit you were starting to notice. “Mikey was the oldest. Sugar’s in the middle.”

“Did they pick on you a lot?” you teased gently, trying to keep the tone light.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Not really. Mikey did, sometimes. But not in a mean way, you know? More like... making sure I could handle myself. And Sugar? She was the one keeping us all in line. Still is.”

“That sounds like a good balance,” you said, leaning back into the couch. “Oldest sibling as the troublemaker, middle sibling keeping the peace, and you as... what? The quiet one?”

“Something like that,” Carmy replied, his voice quiet. “I guess I just... stayed out of the way most of the time. Let them be loud.”

“Stayed out of the way?” you repeated, frowning slightly. “That sounds lonely.”

He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the swirl of whipped cream in his mug. “It wasn’t bad. Mikey... he was the big personality, you know? The guy everyone wanted to be around. Sugar had her own stuff, and I guess I just... I don’t know. I was fine doing my own thing.”

Your chest tightened at the quiet way he spoke, as if he were skimming the surface of something much deeper. You didn’t push, sensing that there was more he wasn’t ready to say. Instead, you offered a small, genuine smile.

“I bet they loved having you around, though,” you said softly. “Even if you didn’t take up all the space.”

Carmy’s gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable passing across his face. He gave a small nod. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was thoughtful, filled with the hum of the heater and Gus’s soft cooing. You shifted in your seat, looking for a way to lighten the mood again.

“So, Carmy-next-door,” you said, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye, “since you’re already here, I have an important question.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his brows lifting slightly.

“If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life—one thing—what would it be?”

Carmy blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “One thing?”

“Yup,” you said, grinning as you rested your chin on your hand. “You’re a chef. I feel like this is the kind of thing you’ve thought about.”

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I haven’t, actually.”

“Well, now’s your chance,” you said, gesturing for him to answer. “Come on, Chef Carmy. What’s it gonna be?”

He thought for a moment, his gaze distant before he replied, “Probably... bread. Good bread. Crusty, fresh out of the oven.”

“Bread?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s your pick?”

“Yeah,” he said, smirking slightly. “It’s simple. Versatile. You can make a sandwich, dip it in soup... eat it plain.”

“Fair,” you admitted, nodding. “But also kind of boring.”

“Boring?” he echoed, his smirk widening. “What about you, then?”

“Oh, easy,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Mac and cheese. The good kind. Baked, with breadcrumbs on top.”

“Baked mac and cheese?” he asked, his tone teasing. “And bread is boring?”

“Hey, baked mac and cheese is a masterpiece,” you argued, pointing a finger at him. “It’s comfort food at its finest.”

Carmy laughed, the sound low and warm, and for the first time that night, he felt completely at ease. You grinned, triumphant, as you sipped your hot chocolate.

“Alright, mac and cheese,” he said finally. “You win,"

“Hell yeah,” you laugh, settling back into the couch with a satisfied smile.

The quiet settled between you again, easy and warm, but you weren’t one to let a moment pass without a bit of mischief. You leaned forward suddenly, setting your mug down on the coffee table and glancing at the pile of papers sitting on the far edge.

“So,” you began, your voice light and playful as you turned back to him, “since you’re already here, Carmy-next-door, how do you feel about helping me grade English essays?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Grade essays?”

“Yup,” you said, grinning as you grabbed the stack and plopped it on the table between you. “It’s my favorite nightly activity. Well, maybe not favorite. But it’s how I usually spend my nights when I’m not rescuing my neighbors from hallway purgatory.”

Carmy raised an eyebrow, his smirk faint. “Not a chance,"

“Why not?” you teased, nudging the stack toward him. “Think of it as your way of repaying me. A little good ol’ fashioned labor for the fourth-grade cause.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, frowning. “I don’t know anything about grading papers.”

“Oh, it’s easy,” you said, waving a hand. “You just read through them and make sure the sentences make sense. Bonus points if you add a smiley face or two. The kids love that.”

“I’m not sure your kids are gonna love my grading style,” he muttered, but he reached for the stack anyway, pulling the first paper off the top.

“Relax,” you said, sitting back with a smug smile. “They’re not expecting Pulitzer-worthy feedback. Just check for spelling errors, maybe circle a comma splice here or there. You’ll be great.”

He sighed, glancing at the paper in his hands, his brow furrowing as he read. After a moment, he spoke. “This one’s about... pizza?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, chuckling. “Personal narratives. They had to write about something important to them. Pizza’s a classic. I mean, it keeps the world turning, apparently.”

Carmy’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Right, ‘round like the Earth.’ Deep stuff.”

“Exactly,” you said, grinning. “Ten-year-olds are basically philosophers in disguise.”

He kept reading, his expression shifting between amusement and genuine thoughtfulness as he moved through the stack. Occasionally, he’d hold up a paper and read a line aloud, like, “‘If I could be any animal, I would be a penguin because they have a lot of swag.’”

“That’s Semaj,” you said with a fond laugh. “He’s got big main-character energy.”

He leaned back into the couch, his empty mug resting on the coffee table. He’d worked through half the stack of papers, leaving you with the rest. You had the blanket draped over your legs, your focus on the paper in your hand, the tip of your pen tapping thoughtfully against your lip. Occasionally, you’d mutter something under your breath—“Oh, Ethan,” or “That’s not how commas work, sweetheart”—before marking a note in the margin.

He couldn’t help it. His gaze lingered.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what he told himself. But something about the way you looked so at ease in the warm glow of the string lights made him pause. Your hair, slightly mussed from the blanket, framed your face in a way that felt unstudied but perfect. The way you chewed your lip when you read something particularly interesting. The way you smiled when you wrote a note in the margin, like you were having a silent conversation with the words on the page.

It wasn’t just that he thought you were pretty—though, God, you were. It was more than that. It was how everything about you seemed to radiate a kind of energy he wasn’t used to. Warm, chaotic, alive.

“Alright,” you said suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Your face lit up as you held a paper up for him to see, the grin on your face contagious. “This one? Absolute gold. You have to read this.”

He leaned forward, taking the paper from your outstretched hand. The title at the top read: ‘Why My Dog is the Best Dog Ever’ in shaky but determined handwriting. He glanced at the first paragraph and let out a quiet laugh.

“'My dog is the best because she knows how to play fetch, even though she’s really bad at it. She never brings the ball back, but I think she’s trying her best,’” Carmy read aloud, shaking his head as he glanced back at you. “This kid’s got it figured out.”

“Right?” you said, your eyes sparkling. “That’s life wisdom right there. ‘Trying your best’—that’s what counts.”

As you set the paper aside, your gaze caught his, and for a moment, the teasing smile on your face softened.

“What?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the hint of curiosity in your tone.

“Nothing,” Carmy said quickly, sitting back, though his lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Just... your kids. They’re funny.”

You studied him for a moment longer, like you didn’t quite believe him, before your grin returned. “They are. Keeps me on my toes.”

He nodded, his gaze drifting back to the stack of papers you were working through. “You’re good at this, you know?”

“Grading?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “All of it. The teaching, the way you talk about them... It’s easy to see.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Then your lips curled into a shy smile, and you shrugged. “Thanks. That means a lot. And, for the record, you’re not so bad at this either. You’re practically a natural.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his smirk returning.

“Oh, definitely,” you said with a mock-serious nod. “The kids would love you. Quiet, mysterious... You’d be like their cool uncle or something.”

Carmy huffed a laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I do,” you said, leaning back and tucking the blanket around you. “You’re doing great, Carmy-next-door. Even if you still think bread isn’t boring.”

He chuckled softly, letting the moment settle between you. The snowstorm outside raged on, but inside, the warmth of the room and your laughter made everything feel lighter. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Carmy didn’t mind staying still.

A/N: Heyyyy, thank you so much for the support. Also, I need help coming up with new scenarios... so if you have any suggestions please tell me.

I hope you enjoyed it and tell me if you want to be tagged. <3

Part 6

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jjoelmillers · 20 days ago

Text

richie jerimovich - a little too far

♫ ariana grande - into you

god between richie and mikey i am dead on my feet, brb gonna write a thousand richie fics omg

main masterlist | blog playlist

"Fuck you!"

"Richie, fuck you!"

"Yeah, whatever. Fuck you!"

You'd lost count of how long this particular argument had been going on for, or what it was even about anymore. Every day it was the same, Richie and Neil, arguing like toddlers with the mouths of sailors. You were pretty convinced even they didn't know what this spat was actually for.

Back and forth, day and night. Every single fucking day. It was tiresome, not only for you but for the rest of the shop, too. You'd been working at The Beef for a while, coming in to help your friend Carmy out for a little while. That same little while turned into basically a year, and now it was a permanent job. A permanent job you didn't want, bearing in mind that no sane person would really want to work here. But, it paid the bills and that was all that mattered.

The job wasn't all doom and gloom, though. There were some days it was incredible, and the tips rolled in and everyone was on fire. It was a few and far between breath of fresh air among days like these. The staff were a family, too. A dysfunctional and very shouty family, but close nonetheless. What was said in service didn't carry outside of work, unless you were Richie and Fak. You were exceptionally close to Tina, she was like a mother to you. Always had the right thing to say, always there when you need her.

Then, there was Richie. Richie Jerimovich.

Your relationship was confusing to say the least. It wasn't bad, but he definitely treated you a little differently than everyone else. With you, there was less swearing, less raised voices. You could calm him down pretty well, somehow managing to keep him grounded even in some of the worst moments of the day.

You couldn't really pinpoint where things changed between you, because when you had first showed up he was just as vicious with you as everyone else. He used to assume you were some chef Carmy had met at Noma, always calling you out for 'Michelin-style bullshit' when you made a common sense suggestion.

"It's not Michelin bullshit, is it Richie? It's a special we could run because they sent us the wrong fucking ingredients, I haven't been anywhere near Noma, you idiot," you would argue, never raising your voice.

Richie would laugh in your face, holding his hands up. "Yeah, sure it ain't some Noma special shit. Gotcha, sweetheart."

He didn't welcome change much, Richie, he preferred the status quo. To keep things as they are left him with a level of comfort, but things started to change between you as time went on, and neither of you really saw it to begin with. There was far less arguing, and more talking. More getting to know one another.

His touches were softer with you when he needed to pass by you, too. His smiles were kinder and he sometimes spent his breaks with you if you got them at the same time. Like Tina, he had come to care about you in some way, but he wouldn't let himself fully feel that for fear of you not returning those feelings. Relationships were never kind to him, he always found some way of messing them up, but he thought you were too nice and sweet to do that. In his mind, someone like you deserved someone better.

But it was pet names and gentle chatter. It was a quick 'sweetheart' in work, or the occasional 'babygirl' peppered into idle conversation. You had realised you wanted more with Richie, and you were falling fast.

Your mind skipped a second every time he called you that. Babygirl. It always caught you for a second, he said it so sultry and matter-of-fact. Like it was the most casual thing ever and it sounded so right to you. Richie said it so relaxed, like it was your first name and seemingly unaware that it wasn't particularly a name friends call one another. Either that or he really didn't give a fuck.

On top of the mutual yet unspoken care between you, Richie also knew you had a problem with shouting, more so when it was directed at you than happening around you. When people shouted at other people you could handle it, but when people shouted at you specifically it panicked you. You'd opened up to him about it when he found you in the back, shaking after Carmy had shouted at you one time, something the young chef had apologized for profusely.

It brought back bad memories when people shouted in your face, and it rooted you to the spot and triggered your anxiety. Because of that, you steered clear of confrontation as much as possible. Richie was so understanding and delicate about it, always quick to defend you or jump in if a customer was starting to become a handful. Also, he would always try to be on his best behaviour and try not to direct his anger at you.

Some days it just happened, though.

In the midst of Richie and Neil's incessant arguing, even the kitchen staff were getting annoyed. You'd closed a solid half an hour ago, and all everyone wanted to do was just clean up and go home. Nobody had time for their playground bullshit. It had been a long day, and they were at each others throats for most of it. It sounded as though it was getting more aggressive, so you threw down your cloth and headed towards the door.

"You sure you wanna go out there? It's pretty volatile even for those two." Tina asked, pulling on your arm a little. She always had concern for you around this sort of thing, but you smiled and nodded.

"I'm sure. I can normally get Richie to chill. There's no way in hell I'm sending Carmy out there," you joked back, trying to lighten the mood. Or maybe to distract yourself from how nervous the situation was making you.

"Heard that, no chance I'm going out there, either." Carmy smiled at you, turning back to his cleaning. "You don't have to, though. I want you to know that."

"Thanks, Carm," you replied, taking a deep breath in.

Stepping out into the front counter, the shouting amplified. You couldn't really hear it fully, they were both talking at the same time. You stood next to Richie, slightly behind him and spoke.

"Richie, hey, stop. Hey," you tried to coax him back, but he was so deep into his argument that it wasn't even registering you at all.

You didn't want to raise your voice, knowing already that it would probably antagonize Richie more, so you continued to tug on his arm. You vaguely heard your name come from Neil's mouth before continuing.

"Richie, stop. Come on, that's enough. Please.. Richie, hey-" He cut you off, spinning around and pushing your hand off his arm. His face was so close to your own as he leaned over you at his full height.

"Just fucking stay outta this! Fuck!"

As quick as it happened, Richie regretted it. He just shouted at you and he felt so bad. Actually, he had practically just screamed in your face. He couldn't imagine the fear that must have just gone through you. Neil had gone quiet, using the time to slip away to the back of the shop. Richie's face had softened, pain hitting him in the chest like a punch. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

He tried to reach his hand out for you, but you backed away. Richie couldn't stand the look you were giving him, the hurt that flashed across your face was more than enough to bring him back to Earth.

"Shit, sweetheart, I-" he called, voice softer and quieter. You were already outside though, the door closing behind you.

"What the hell was that?" Richie heard Tina's voice from behind him. "You better get your ass out there now and fix that shit, or imma beat it for you."

Richie nodded, he didn't even bother to argue. Tina's harsh tone cut him, but he knew he had to sort this mess out. Grabbing his leather jacket, he headed out of the door to follow you.

You were crouched down behind the bins, knees up to your chest to calm your breathing. Your mind wandered as the cold air nipped at you, and you tugged your jacket round you closer.

Sure, shouting was an integral part of working at The Beef, the foundations of this building were more than likely built on an argument. But the last thing you expected was to be shouted at by the one man you had hoped wouldn't dream of such a thing.

Hearing footsteps behind you, your body pulled itself closer in and hoped whoever it was would just walk by. Deep down however, you knew who it was straight away.

"Hey," Richie's familiar voice broke through the air. "Can I uh, can I sit with you?"

You couldn't stand how sad he sounded. Despite what just happened, the care you had for him made your heart ache when he wasn't okay. There were so many bad times that you had helped him through, but to know you were in one hurt your soul. All you ever wanted was Richie to be happy again, even in spite of all that had gone on.

You didn't speak, but moved over a little to make space for him, a silent admission that it was okay for him to join you.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Look, I know you probably don't wanna hear it, I wouldn't either if I were you, but I didn't mean to shout at you back there, you know?"

Keeping your eyes focused down on the floor, you shrugged, not trusting your voice to speak just yet. Richie sighed and continued.

"Things have just been so shitty today, like more shitty than it usually is in this place. Fak's been on my fuckin' nerves all day and I've had it with Carmy and his fuckin' attitude. That didn't give me the right to take it out on you, though. I wasn't thinking straight. You're the last person I would wanna scream at like that."

You hadn't realised you were crying a little until you sniffed, wiping your tears away with the edge of your jacket sleeve as quick as they had fallen. Richie glanced over to you and his heart broke. Not only had he broken his promise to you and shouted at you, he'd made you cry now, too.

Nice going jagoff, he thought. Good fuckin' job.

"Oh, fuck man. Ahh, come here..." Richie trailed off, opening his arms for you. There was no obligation for you to move in, but your instinct kicked in and you did. Scooting over, you fell into his chest and he held you close to him, feeling you shaking.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I am so fuckin' sorry. I wasn't even focusing or nothin'. Shit, I hate this."

Richie let out a string of sentences that all blended together, eventually sounding the same. Filled with apologies and curse words, you eventually stopped crying long enough to interrupt him.

"Babygirl, I can't imagine how you feel. The way I fuckin' reacted would of scared a grown ass man, let alone you. I-"

"It's okay, Richie" you croaked out, voice fairly hoarse. "I know it's been a long day."

Any other time, any other day and he would have reveled in the way you said his name. He loved when you called for him, the way his name sounded on your tongue. But now wasn't the time for it. Now was the time for regrets and apologies.

"That doesn't fuckin' excuse it though. Coulda been the longest day in history and I shoulda still not made you cry."

Looking up to him, he shook his head when he saw your bloodshot eyes and tear stained face.

You did that to her, dickhead. he told himself. That's all on you.

You tried to crack a small smile to him. You really were over the worst of it, it was more just the shock, but now that had worn itself off, you were just left with the unease of afterwards.

"Really, Richie. It's alright, I know you didn't mean to. You're not like that."

You leaned your head back down onto his chest as he pulled you in closer, your bodies resting against each other. You took in the smell of him, his natural musk mixed with the beaten smell of his leather and cigarettes. There was such a feeling of comfort in his arms, akin to the feeling of home. It felt safe, and it felt right.

Richie wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his other hand running through your hair to sooth you. There was something so domestic about this, to him he felt unlike he had in such a long time. Richie was figuring out that this was exactly what he wanted, that you were what he needed. He buried his face into your hair, and you could swear you felt him leave a kiss on top of your head.

"You know," Richie cut the silence around you. "I promise I won't shout at you again, sweetheart. Fuckin' never again."

You nodded your head in acknowledgment, letting him know you'd heard what he said. He didn't need you to respond, it was more an affirmation to Richie himself. There and then he swore an oath to never make tears fall from your eyes again.

You weren't sure how long you both were out there, but it was too nice of feeling sitting in his arms to leave. It wasn't the first time you'd hugged Richie, he had given you hugs many times before. But never like this. Never this personal. He was here, holding you like you were his world. So soft and gentle, though he could break you if his touch was any heavier.

You felt more comfortable as the minutes went by, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Richie wouldn't say it out loud, but he loved that feeling. Having you by his side, practically melting into him.

"If we don't move soon, babygirl, they might throw us out with the trash," Richie commented, earning a giggle from you as you lifted your head from his neck. He loved that, the sound of your laugh was one of the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard.

"You think they'll take us away to somewhere decent, though? If they will, I say let them take us."

Richie laughed too, and you both caught each other's gaze, smiling. For a moment, you were both lost with one another; right now it was just the two of you. Richie's face had softened still, and he brought a hand up to cup your face, the pad of this thumb travelling over your cheek. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes.

"Hey, uh," Richie started, suddenly sounding a little nervous and a lot less confident than usual. "We good then?"

You opened your eyes to look at him, a smile on your face. A feeling in your gut told you that's definitely not what he was going to say. There was no way in hell that Richie Jerimovich would be so anxious just to ask if you were friends again. A giggle escaped you and he furrowed his brows.

"The hell you laughing at?" he jested, trying to act tough.

"You, Jerimovich."

You placed your fingers under his chin and leaned in, featherlight touch drawing him closer. Your lips brushed his own as you closed the gap fully, capturing his lips with your own. The kiss was sweet, and you poured every thought and feeling you'd had about him into it, hoping he would get it. Richie did kiss you back, pulling your bottom lip in with his teeth, earning a surprised gasp from you. You cupped his face with both hands and his arms wrap around your waist.

"Fuck," you heard him whisper as he pulled back. "You sure you wanna be kissing me, babygirl?"

His voice sounded quieter than usual, and his question was steeped in doubt. You looked at him for a few moments, still in the same position as you were a minute ago. Leaning your forehead against his own, you spoke to him directly.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, Richie. You get me, you're the thing I look forward to seeing you every day I come into this hell hole, and you're the only thing that makes it easier to deal with. I have never been more sure that I want to be kissing anyone."

Richie couldn't help but smile. It wasn't often people said such nice things about him, and coming from you it meant so much more. He knew you were telling the truth, he knew you wouldn't lie to him or play him like that. Still, he had doubts. But it wasn't you Richie doubted, it was himself.

"Yeah? You should probably think about kissin' someone your own age, not a divorced dad with anger issues. Should probably be Carmy or some shit."

"Oh yeah," you drawled in mock agreement. "Carmy is definitely the one for me. Because Carmy has a stable anger balance doesn't he?"

Richie laughed, knowing his statement was bullshit and it sounded stupid a second time around.

"You listen to me, Richie," you moved to face him, the man instinctively pulling you onto his lap so you were more comfortable. His hands rested on your hips as you looked him in the eye, still keeping his face in your hands.

"I know what I want, okay? And I want you. I have for so long, but I was scared you wouldn't want me. But you are the most important person in my life, Richie. You're the one I call when I'm upset. The one I turn to when things are hard. But you're also the one I enjoy hanging with and joking with. So don't tell me you aren't what I need, because you are exactly what I need. I need you, in every way."

Richie bit his bottom lip as he watched you talk, taking in every word. He allowed himself to listen, his grip on your hips tightening as he processed what you were saying. You were staring at him with so much adoration he didn't feel he deserved. But he couldn't deny the way he felt when you looked at him like that.

"Oh, babygirl," Richie whispered, bringing you close to him again. "If I'm really what you want, you fuckin' got me."

"If you don't want me to love you, I'd suggest you stop calling me babygirl."

Richie smiled, a soft smile rooted with a newfound warm feeling, before he raised a brow.

"But you wouldn't want me to stop anyway, would you?" he teased, stealing another kiss from you. This one was faster, but still warm and full of emotion.

"Not in a million years."

You'd been so lost in each other and the whole ordeal that you hadn't even realised the time. Someone opening the dumpster and throwing a bag out brought you back to reality.

"Hey, trash babies, you wanna move your asses before someone throws some disgusting shit over you? We just cleaned the grease traps, so be careful."

It was Tina, with the proudest Mom smile she could muster. She knew exactly what had happened here on instinct, and she left with a wink to you.

"You wanna go for a drink, princess?" Richie asked, standing and picking you up with him like it was nothing. That type of strength you had not expected from him.

You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, pulling back and kissing his forehead, too.

"I'd love that, I'd love that a lot."

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