#he looks like he smells like garlic

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

10 Ways to Add Sizzle to Your Boring Writing

Writing that sizzles captures the reader's attention and keeps them engaged from start to finish. Whether you're an experienced writer or just starting out, there are several techniques you can use to make your writing more exciting and dynamic. Here are ten detailed ways to add sizzle to your boring writing:

1. Use Vivid Descriptions

Vivid descriptions bring your writing to life by creating a rich, immersive experience for the reader. Instead of relying on generic or bland language, use specific details that appeal to the senses. Describe how things look, sound, smell, taste, and feel to paint a vivid picture.

In Detail:

Visual Descriptions: Use color, shape, and size to create a mental image. Instead of saying "The car was old," say "The rusty, olive-green car wheezed as it pulled into the driveway."

Sound Descriptions: Incorporate onomatopoeia and detailed sound descriptions. Instead of "The music was loud," say "The bass thumped, and the high notes pierced through the night air."

Smell and Taste Descriptions: Use sensory language. Instead of "The food was good," say "The aroma of roasted garlic and herbs filled the room, and the first bite was a burst of savory flavors."

2. Show, Don't Tell

"Show, don't tell" is a fundamental writing principle that means revealing information through actions, thoughts, dialogue, and sensory details rather than straightforward exposition. This approach makes your writing more engaging and allows readers to experience the story.

In Detail:

Actions Over Exposition: Instead of telling the reader "Jane was scared," show her fear through her actions: "Jane's hands trembled as she fumbled with the lock, her breath coming in shallow gasps."

Dialogue: Use conversations to reveal character traits and emotions. Instead of "John was angry," show his anger through his words and tone: "John's voice was a low growl as he said, 'I can't believe you did this.'"

Internal Thoughts: Reveal characters' inner worlds. Instead of "Emma felt relieved," show her relief: "Emma let out a long breath she didn't realize she was holding and sank into the chair, a smile tugging at her lips."

3. Create Relatable Characters

Relatable characters are crucial for keeping readers invested in your story. Characters should have depth, including strengths, weaknesses, desires, and fears. When readers see aspects of themselves in your characters, they're more likely to care about their journeys.

In Detail:

Character Flaws: Give your characters realistic flaws. A perfect character can be boring and unrelatable. Show how these flaws impact their decisions and relationships.

Character Arcs: Ensure your characters grow and change throughout the story. A well-crafted character arc can turn a good story into a great one.

Background and Motivations: Provide backstories and motivations. Why does your character act the way they do? What drives them? This adds depth and makes them more three-dimensional.

4. Add Dialogue

Dialogue can break up large blocks of text and make your writing more dynamic. It reveals character, advances the plot, and provides opportunities for conflict and resolution. Ensure your dialogue sounds natural and serves a purpose.

In Detail:

Natural Speech: Write dialogue that sounds like real conversation, complete with interruptions, pauses, and colloquial language. Avoid overly formal or stilted speech.

Purposeful Dialogue: Every line of dialogue should have a purpose, whether it's revealing character, advancing the plot, or building tension. Avoid filler conversations that don't add to the story.

Subtext: Use subtext to add depth. Characters might say one thing but mean another, revealing their true feelings through what they don't say directly.

5. Use Strong Verbs

Strong verbs make your writing more vivid and energetic. They convey action and emotion effectively, making your sentences more powerful and engaging.

In Detail:

Action Verbs: Choose verbs that show precise actions. Instead of "She went to the store," say "She dashed to the store."

Avoid Weak Verbs: Replace weak verbs and verb phrases with stronger alternatives. Instead of "He was walking," say "He strode."

Emotionally Charged Verbs: Use verbs that convey specific emotions. Instead of "She was sad," say "She wept."

6. Vary Sentence Structure

Varying sentence structure keeps your writing interesting and prevents it from becoming monotonous. Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more complex ones to create a rhythm that engages readers.

In Detail:

Short Sentences for Impact: Use short sentences to create tension, urgency, or emphasize a point. "He stopped. Listened. Nothing."

Complex Sentences for Detail: Use longer sentences to provide detailed descriptions or explain complex ideas. "As the sun set behind the mountains, the sky transformed into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, casting a warm glow over the serene landscape."

Combine Different Structures: Mix simple, compound, and complex sentences to maintain a natural flow. Avoid repetitive patterns that can make your writing feel flat.

7. Introduce Conflict

Conflict is the driving force of any story. It creates tension and keeps readers invested in the outcome. Without conflict, your story can become stagnant and uninteresting.

In Detail:

Internal Conflict: Characters should struggle with internal dilemmas, fears, and desires. This adds depth and relatability.

External Conflict: Introduce obstacles and challenges that characters must overcome. This can be other characters, societal pressures, or natural forces.

Resolution: Show how conflicts are resolved, leading to character growth and plot progression. Ensure resolutions feel earned and satisfying.

8. Use Metaphors and Similes

Metaphors and similes add creativity and depth to your writing. They help readers understand complex ideas and emotions by comparing them to familiar experiences.

In Detail:

Metaphors: Directly state that one thing is another to highlight similarities. "Time is a thief."

Similes: Use "like" or "as" to make comparisons. "Her smile was like sunshine on a rainy day."

Avoid Clichés: Create original comparisons rather than relying on overused phrases. Instead of "busy as a bee," find a fresh analogy.

9. Create Suspense

Suspense keeps readers on the edge of their seats, eager to find out what happens next. Use foreshadowing, cliffhangers, and unanswered questions to build tension and anticipation.

In Detail:

Foreshadowing: Drop subtle hints about future events. This creates anticipation and a sense of inevitability.

Cliffhangers: End chapters or sections with unresolved tension or unanswered questions to compel readers to keep going.

Pacing: Control the pace of your story to build suspense. Slow down for crucial moments and speed up during action scenes.

10. Edit Ruthlessly

Great writing often emerges during the editing process. Be willing to cut unnecessary words, tighten your prose, and refine your sentences. Editing improves clarity, pace, and overall readability.

In Detail:

Cut Redundancies: Remove unnecessary words and repetitive phrases. "In my opinion, I think" can be reduced to "I think."

Focus on Clarity: Ensure each sentence conveys its intended meaning clearly and concisely.

Proofread: Check for grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors. A polished manuscript reflects professionalism and attention to detail.

[1-ker0sene-1]

Poly 141 x Reader

Home is where you are

"What ye think she made this time?"

Johnny mumbles, dropping his head back against the seat behind him. Blinking tiredly up at the ceiling of the truck, a daydream clear in his eyes. Simon next to him stares out the window, sweat seems to practically seal his balaclava to his face.

"We'd be lucky if anything. It's three in the fucking morning.."

Kyle says from the passenger seat. Pursing his lips a bit.

"She should be sleeping.."

Price chuckles from the driver's seat, hand on the steering wheel, paying close attention to the road.

"She knows we're on our way home. If she made something. We'll be thankful."

His other hand is resting on Kyle's knee, his thumb rubs slow circles against him.

Simons foot taps on the floor of the car silently, brows tight together. The man just wants to go home, shower, eat whatever heaven you cooked and sink into that california king mattress. With all of you, all five of you together.

"Steaks."

He mutters.

"Hm?"

Johnny questions with a hum, Simon clarifies.

"On days we come home.. it's either steak or shepherds pie. She made shepherds pie last time so it's gonna be steak."

They all salivate at the damn thought.

"It's tha little things with ye huh Simon?"

Johnny smiles warmly, leaning on his shoulder.

It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are. Filing out of the truck, bags over their shoulders. Covered in grime and dried blood, they didn't even let themselves clean up at base before going home to you. Walking forward, Simon slings an arm around Kyle's shoulder. Tucking the sargeant into his side as they walk to the house. Both Johns walking behind them, Price giving the younger a good slap on the back.

"Home, boys. Let's enjoy it while we can."

Price comes forward to unlock the front door, pushing it open for the four of them. Mumbling out a reminder to take off their shoes inside. Leaning down with a grunt to pull off his boots. The others doing the same. They can already smell what you're cooking, Simon was right. The smell of steaks is pretty clear, garlic butter, some kind of steamed vegetables and spices.

The house is clean. Warm. Low lighting, some candles lit. Everything about it screams home. John opens his mouth to call out for you, but he can feel his spine practically melt hearing you hum in the kitchen.

Johnny is the first stumbling forward, hopping on one leg as he throws off his remaining shoe. Eager to get back to you. Grinning as he comes around the corner into the kitchen. He melts. Seeing you there, in your chair dishing up their plates of dinner.

".. Hey lass.."

He mumbles, feeling like all the air left his chest.

You turn your head when you hear him, the brightest smile spreads across your face. Tossing the fork down from your hand as you turn towards him.

"Hey soldier-"

You beam. You don't even get another word in before Johnny rushes towards you, you let out a puff of air as he crashes into you. Laughing against him as he squeezes you to his chest, his face buried in your hair.

"Fuckin' missed ye hen.."

He whispers. You return with one of your own.

"I know baby.. I missed you too.."

You lift your head, kissing the scar on his chin.

"This bloke botherin' you love?"

You already know that voice immediately, smiling as you turn to look at Kyle. Who is quick at your side with Johnny, his hand cups the back of your head. Pressing a long kiss to your cheek. Taking a deep inhale of your scent through his nose. You smile warmly, your hand finds his bicep, giving a soft squeeze.

"There you are Kyle.."

You murmur, turning your head to press your own kisses across the bridge of his nose.

"Always here."

He chirps, kissing on your skin. His eyes bore into you, drinking you up. Johnny huffs, mumbling something about stealing all your attention. Earning a small tug on his mowhawk from you.

"Alright you two- showers. The both of you. You need it-"

You chuckle, giving them both a hug. Giving Johnny one more kiss on the jaw. Letting Gaz get one more kiss on your face. Watching them head past you down the hall to the bathroom. Kissing on eachother, bumping into walls. You shake your head at them with a smile.

Eyes flicking back to the entrance. You find Simon staring at you, his shoulders slack and sinking. Eyes half lidded and tired. The rest of his face under the balaclava. Your eyes soften, holding out your hand to him.

"Oh Si.."

He takes the invitation. Coming over to you. He would tower over you in height. But instead he falls to one knee in front of your chair. Hands resting on the arm rests of your chair. Your hands immediately cradle his head. Leaning forward to press your head to his.

"You're home.. it's alright now .. no more Lieutenant.."

You whisper against him. Your fingertips lift the edge of the balaclava, pulling it over the nape of his neck. Over the back of his head, nails dragging soothingly up his scalp as you take the fabric away. Making him shiver in vulnerability. Putting his mask aside on the counter.

Seeing your Simons face eases the both of you, cupping his jaw and lifting his head.

"I know doll.. I know."

He mutters, you kiss his temple. Caressing his skin. Threading your fingers into his hair.

"Go shower with the boys sweetheart.. I'll be in there soon."

You coo at him. He chuckles deeply, kissing your head between your brows as he gets up. Bumping your foreheads together one more time before walking to the bathroom.

"You're not gonna say hello to me John?"

You joke, turning your head to watch said Captain. Who was holding his hat in hand, leaning against the wall watching you. He's been watching you the whole time.

"Just seein' you with our boys darlin'.."

Pushing away from the wall he walks over to you. His eyes full of exhaustion, longing, warmth. Tossing his hat on the counter behind you. He leans down, callous hands hold your cheeks. Bringing your lips to his.

He's not as sneaky as he thinks. You know of his little demand to the boys. He's the first to kiss you. Each time they come home.

You kiss him back feverishly, as much as you've been calm and steady for them. You missed your men like hell. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, beginning to work on the knots of tension in them. Emitting a deep groan from John into your mouth. You smile against his lips, feeling the scratch off his beard.

"Everyone's alright?"

You whisper against him. He nods, his hands finding your hips. Slightly lifting you from your chair and towards himself.

"No one's broken. .. Kyle's a little stressed. Y'know how he is.."

You nod, eyes still closed, continuing to brush your lips together.

"And you?"

"Just tired.. But I'm home. That's what matters."

John mumbles, kissing you deep again. Dipping his tongue past your lips, a soft sigh slipping out of you. Arms pulling him closer.

"Taking good care of our boys John.. You always do.. Making sure you all come home to me again... Our strong Captain.."

You can feel him sinking at your praise. The older mans knees want to buckle at your voice.

"Let's get you in the shower baby.. Hm? Get you washed and relaxed.."

You mumble against him.

You yelp as your lifted into the air by his arms, laughing openly as he carries you like a bride. Burying his nose to the crook of your neck. Carrying you down the hall, to the bathroom door. Where you can already hear the chatter of the men in the shower waiting for the two of you. John is grumbling against your skin.

"We need you darlin'. "

"Our boys and I need you bad.."

[jaysng]

post arguement — park jongseong

pairing: nonidol!boyfriend!jay x girlfriend!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 958

REBLOG if you enjoyed

it had been a tense twenty-four hours since the argument. you could still feel the heaviness of the unsaid words lingering in the air, the way jay’s eyes kept darting toward you, hoping for a sign that things were back to normal. but you weren’t quite ready to give him that satisfaction yet.

you weren’t ignoring him, not exactly. but there was a distance, a coldness that hadn’t been there before, and jay could feel it with every fiber of his being. he knew he had messed up—he was painfully aware of that—and he wanted to make it right. so, he decided to do the one thing that might soften you: cook your favorite meal.

he moved around the kitchen with purpose, gathering ingredients, chopping vegetables, and measuring spices. the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board was the only noise that filled the otherwise silent apartment. jay glanced over his shoulder, hoping you’d notice, but you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, pretending to be more interested in the screen than in him.

he sighed softly, turning his attention back to the food. “okay, let's see… a little bit of garlic, and then… what’s next?” he mumbled to himself, opening the fridge and pulling out the ingredients for your favorite dish.

“maybe some extra basil this time,” he said, as if he were consulting with someone. “she likes that, right?” 

he glanced at you again, but you didn’t look up, your focus still on your phone, though he could tell by the way your fingers hesitated that you were listening. jay smiled a little to himself, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to soften.

as the aroma of the food began to fill the apartment, you felt your resolve weakening. it was your favorite, after all, and jay knew exactly how you liked it—down to the last detail. you tried to stay focused on your phone, but your stomach had other ideas, grumbling softly in response to the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.

you finally couldn’t resist any longer. quietly, you slipped off the couch and made your way to the kitchen, your bare feet padding softly against the floor. jay heard you coming, but he didn’t turn around, pretending not to notice as you moved closer to the stove. you leaned over the pot, inhaling the rich, savory aroma, and before you knew it, your hand was reaching for a spoon to sneak a taste.

just as you brought the spoon to your lips, the soft strumming of a guitar filled the room, followed by the familiar voice of ed sheeran singing one of his sweetest love songs. you froze, the spoon halfway to your mouth, as jay finally turned to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

he crossed the small space between you in just a few steps, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. his chin rested gently on your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his body against your back. “caught you,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

you didn’t pull away, but you didn’t lean into him either, still holding onto the last bit of your stubbornness. jay swayed gently, moving you both in time with the music, his arms tightening around you just a little bit more.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured into your ear, his voice soft and sincere. “i know i messed up, and i hate that i hurt you. please forgive me?”

you stayed silent for a moment longer, letting the words sink in, feeling the way his heart beat steadily against your back. slowly, you turned in his arms, looking up at him with a mixture of emotions in your eyes.

“you always do this,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “say things you don’t mean and then try to fix it later.”

jay’s eyes were pleading, filled with guilt and a longing to make things right. “i know. i’m trying to be better. i just… i just want us to be okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll do whatever it takes.”

you didn’t say anything, but the way you rested your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around him in return, spoke volumes. jay let out a relieved sigh, holding you close as you swayed together to the music, the tension between you finally beginning to melt away.

the song played on, and for a little while, you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, letting the music and the moment say everything that words couldn’t. as the final notes faded away, jay pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness.

and in that moment, you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. not when he was looking at you like that, not when he had gone through all this trouble just to make you smile again.

“just… don’t let it happen again,” you said softly, the words not harsh but still carrying a weight.

jay nodded, his expression serious. “i promise.”

you leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, letting him know without words that you were ready to forgive, ready to move forward together.

“thank you,” jay whispered against your lips, his voice filled with gratitude and love. 

“just don’t burn the food,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you rested your head against his chest once more, letting the warmth of his embrace and the sweet scent of your favorite meal fill the space between you, knowing that everything was going to be okay.

do not copy or repost my work — @/jaysng

[urhoneycombwitch]

mean mouth

foreword: and if I said Eddie liked when you talked a lil' mean to him. what then. n e ways. just a little exploration of his early-day sub tendencies. I generally write Eddie as older but since this takes place in some nebulous time before s4 u can think whatever u want +18. ‘unnamed freak’ is Jacob. punk band name was not thought of by me but isn’t it great <3

cw: gn!reader w/breasts + V, oral (R receiving), unprotected PiV, soft!dom(ish) R, Eddie subbing from the top 😎, gotta-be-quiet-when-we-fuck trope my beloved

wc: 3.7k

____

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Eddie’s a blur of motion in the little trailer kitchen, knocking against your knees where you’re propped up on the counter (not entirely helpful but, in his words, ‘much-needed eye candy for the chef’), closing cupboards with a bang and talking animatedly over the hiss of onions cooking.

Your boy is loud, always has been, and tonight is no different- he’s crowing and cackling, recounting a particularly genius foible that he’d orchestrated during last night’s campaign, wooden spoon dipping in and out of heated pots over the stove like some crazed frizzy-haired potions master. 

“And then.” He punctuates with a jab of the spoon towards you, a long drip of spaghetti sauce narrowly missing your leg- you flinch and squeak in alarm, but Eddie just grins wildly, eager to get to the punchline. “Red rolls a natural. Fucking. Twenty.” 

“Holy shit!” Your smile is wide, natural and easy for him- Eddie’s excitement is infectious. 

“I know!” Eddie spins back to the stove, plunking the wooden spoon back into the simmering sauce before opening the oven. Heat from the broiler rises in a mouth-watering cloud of herby smell, and Eddie reaches for the metal sheet of garlic bread, still talking. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. And then I- shit!”

You don’t put the pieces together until Eddie’s spinning away from the open oven, whole body moving with the force of his hand being shaken in the air- he’d touched the roiling-hot metal with his bare hand.

“Oh, shit, babe-” Sliding from the counter, you nudge the oven door closed with a foot, reaching out to assess the damage- but Eddie’s a whirlwind, jumping up and down, swinging his injured hand around in jerky movements, howling in pain.

It’s kind of freaking you out, ‘cuz you can’t tell if he’s playing up or if he’s actually got a third-degree burn. The voice that comes out of you is commanding, one that you rarely use, firm and louder than his hollering. 

“Eddie, for fuck’s sake- stand up and let me see it.”

That seems to do the trick. Eddie’s eyes snap to you, pausing mid-hop, and you take advantage of his semi-stillness to snatch his wrist and drag him towards the sink. The water runs cool and you turn his palm over in both of yours, breathing a sigh of relief when the pink welt across the bridge of his hand doesn’t have any blisters.

“Under the water,” you instruct, pushing at his silver-link braceleted wrist until he gets the memo, letting the flow from the tap ease the burn.

Eddie hisses through his teeth, and then goes quiet for the first time in ages.

There’s a few moments of this strained silence as you watch his hand carefully, color leaching back into his palm until you notice Eddie’s looking at you sideways.

Your shoulders hunch in a bit, arms crossed over your chest as you take a step back, misinterpreting his look as wounded. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just-”

“Hey, whoa, no-” Eddie’s hand automatically reaches for you, dripping water on the floor until he remembers his injury with a wince and plunges it back under the tap. “You don’t have to apologize for that. At all. Um.”

His left hand, the uninjured one, braces against the linoleum, ringed knuckles creaking as he shifts his stance. He sounds uncomfortable, and you’re about to start apologizing again until he lifts his head, eyes twinkling- “You were so bossy. It was totally hot.”

A shocked laugh burbles out of you, unsure if he’s joking or not- when he shifts his weight again, your gaze flickers down to the zipper of his dark jeans- he’s fully hard. 

“Oh my god.” Split between amusement and mortification, adrenaline from seeing him get hurt fizzing through your veins, you laugh again- this time, sardonic, into your hands, shaking your head. “Jesus christ, Eddie.”

“Can’t help it.” He’s close to whining, hips pressing flush into the cabinet, partly to relieve the ache in his groin and partly to toy with you. “Goddamn. Sound so sexy when you tell me what to do-”

There’s a teatowel hanging from a nearby rack; you snatch it up and whip it at Eddie’s shoulder, playful and irritated as you snap, “Shut up.”

“Oh, yeah, just like that, baby-” Eddie’s fake sultry voice earns him another towel-whip, this time at his neck- he squawks, ducking to avoid another blow while still keeping his hand under the water.

“Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous,” you announce with finality, slinging the towel over your shoulder and turning on your heel. “I’m gonna get the burn cream. Try not to cum or die while I’m gone.”

His bright laughter follows you all the way down the hall.

___

The next time it happens, it’s sort-of on purpose.

Eddie’s glowing with a post-show rush- a local business convention meant Corroded Coffin got to play for a nearly-packed room. Nevermind the fact that their Bruce Springsteen cover was the one bringing in the most applause; Eddie’s always been able to feed off the energy of a crowd, and tonight was a riotous success.

The Hideout is loud but your boy is louder, as per usual. There’s sweat curling the baby hairs at his temples, bright spots of flushed pink in his cheeks from the round of whiskey you’d bought the band as a congrats. 

He’s making a toast to his laughing bandmates, to beautiful you, to any nearby drunk who will listen, proclaiming his lust for life with one boot on the well-worn table in noble pose.

“And to Bev, the best of us-” Eddie tips his half-empty glass towards the nearby bar, shouting over the din of the jukebox and lively chatter, “-may your sharp-tongued wit live on!”

Bev pauses service to flip him off, and Eddie collapses back into the comfort of your arm over the booth’s top, grinning when the band trio of Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob nearly fall out of their chairs with laughter.

It’s always hot to see Eddie in his element, and tonight’s not an exception. He turns to lean into you, looking down the slope of his pretty nose like he knows why you’re staring.

A charming wink precedes, “Come here often?” but his flirting is interrupted when Jeff gets up for another round and bumps the table- whiskey sloshes over the side of Eddie’s cup and coats his hand in stickiness. 

He swears viciously, yanking out his bandanna to wipe at the mess while you laugh over the rim of your own glass at him. “Real smooth, babe. Good thing you killed it on stage, otherwise I might not take you home.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, inhaling for another cheesy line to wow you with when his gaze flicks past you and his face falls. 

Across the table, Jacob mutters, “Oh, shit,” and Gareth glowers.

Following their eyelines, you look over your shoulder to see Nico Hawley, frontrunner of Hawkin’s own punk band (the Scumshots), enter through the front door in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

When you turn back to Eddie, he’s already twisting the damp bandanna around his rings. The usual softness of his doe-brown eyes are now flint-sharp, and with a rush of panic, you remember the last time Eddie and Nico ran into each other; the night had ended with you back at the trailer, holding a cold pack to Eddie’s split lip, which he’d received from engaging in what he referred to as “friendly fisticuffs”.

There was nothing friendly about the way Eddie stood, then, to his full height, dark and imposing with his big mane of hair and leather jacket. The other Corroded boys won’t start any shit themselves, but will absolutely back Eddie up (fearless leader, resident shit-starter, instigator extraordinaire). 

Time’s running out for you to get a handle on the situation, Eddie already moving to slide past you out of the booth when you snag his left jacket sleeve in a tight grip.

The first yank you give stops him in his tracks; the second, more intentional tug gets his face level with yours, Eddie’s hardened stare giving way to confusion as you pull him into your space. 

In that same authoritative tone, you pin Eddie in place with a fistful of leather and command, low, right in his ear to be heard above the bar noise, “Don’t. Sit down and be good.”

At first, you’re not sure it worked, because Eddie’s just staring at you- slightly slack-jawed, pretty pink o mouth as his gaze flickers to your lips, back up to lock in your gaze again.

And then, by some miracle, Eddie obeys. Like a well-trained, marvelously-behaved dog. He’s back in his seat with a jolt to the booth, hand curling around his whiskey again. 

Curls spill and shift around jacketed shoulders as he shoots the rest of the glass, adam’s apple bobbing, other hand slipping to cup your thigh hidden from view. “It’s not worth it,” he announces to the rest of the group, sounding strained, staring at the bottom of his empty glass, knuckles white with force.

Jake sighs, relieved, but Gareth scoffs, tipping the neck of his beer across the table to point, goading Eddie with  “Since when have you been the one to take orders?”

“Shut up,” Eddie shoots back, blood returning and redistributing enough from where it had all rushed south, enough to defend you and himself against his drunk bandmate. “We’re already on Hop’s shit list, asshole, can’t be catching any more charges for stupid fuckin’ bar fights.”

Nico had disappeared into the throng of people at the bar while your group has been arguing- probably for the best that he’s out of eyesight. Unperturbed by Gareth’s comment (he likes you fine, he’s just grumpy from the alcohol and itching for a fight), you sip your drink and give him a shameless wink. 

Underneath the tabletop, Eddie’s palm flattens over your jeans, fingers dipping to toy with the denim seam hugging the fatty plush part of your inner thigh. You shift your hips, subtly, feeling flush with heat and power. Just a couple of words and you have him eating out of your goddamn hand. 

Jeff returns, setting a handful of beers in the middle of the table. “Saw that shitstain Hawley at the bar. What’d I miss here?”

Gareth swoops in with accusatory explanation, seizing another bottle out of Jeff’s hands. “What you missed is Eddie’s balls on a leash-”

“Jealous you don’t have someone at home to tie you up, Emerson?” Eddie’s dig comes swiftly, lips quirked in a smile around the rim of his drink. 

There’s a raucous burst of laughter, Gareth’s curly mop of hair gets ruffled playfully, and everyone eases back into celebration, all while Eddie’s thumb edges closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

___

The next time, though? Totally on purpose.

There’s a sliver of gold from the hallway light spilling under Eddie’s closed door, left on in case Jeff or Gareth needed to use the bathroom during the night. 

And despite the fact that two of his bandmates are passed out on the couch and floor just a short walk away, Eddie’s hands are exploring the length of your body under the sheets like he’s got plans to map you with his tongue. 

“We- ah- can’t.” Your whispering scold is interrupted with a sharp gasp when Eddie nips at your neck. “No fooling around. Not when we have guests.”

His left hand drips over the swell of your breast, squeezing and kneading, your nipples perking to attention (traitors) underneath the bra you haven’t yet had the chance to take off.

Eddie adopts your quiet tone as he speaks between kisses that trail further down your body, not outright ignoring your weak protests but not doing much to combat them, either. “Mmm. Got me so worked up. Been driving me crazy since the bar, y’know that? ‘S cruel, baby, can’t just talk mean and expect me not to act on it.”

“Wasn’t mean,” you counter, hands shifting automatically to wind through the soft locks of hair tickling at your stomach as Eddie continues his path downwards. “Didn’t wanna have to patch up a split lip. Had to make you behave somehow.”

The vibrating groan Eddie gives against the soft skin of your stomach tickles; when you squirm, shushing him again, his hands slide to your hips, pinning you in place. 

Nose to your navel, warm breath fanning across the strip of skin just above the band of your panties, Eddie sounds strung-out already, close to begging. “Please, baby. I’ll be good. Make it so good for you. I’ll be quiet-”

His head snaps up at your sudden gasping laugh, chin perched on your tummy as he scoffs. “What, you don’t think I can keep quiet?”

“Eddie Munson, you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Your hands migrate to his cheeks, squishing them together fondly as he grins around your touch, his thumbs working circles at your bare hips. 

“Ye of little faith.” In the dim light of the room, Eddie’s teeth are a flash of white before his mouth dips to press against the wet patch at your underwear.

“Fucking… shit-!” The expletives fly out harshly, only because you weren’t expecting the wet stripe of his tongue against your clothed folds. Head dropping back to the comfort of your pillow, you get one hand in Eddie’s hair again, the other finding its way to twist at the sheets.

You can feel his smile, equal parts smug and sympathetic as he coos saccharine to your inner thigh- “Now, now, angel. Gotta be quiet.”

Not willing to lose the fight, you focus on clamping your mouth shut, eyes closed in concentration- even as Eddie slides your underwear down and off, a quick flash of blue fabric before it’s swallowed by the floor’s darkness. Even as he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard like he’s been deprived of your taste for too long.

When his tongue breaches your entrance, a soft gasp escapes, one that has your head turning sideways to grab some pillow with your teeth. 

Eddie brings the wetness from your entrance up again, spreading it over your pulsing clit, nerve endings fizzing bright and hot in your stomach from the attention.

On instinct, your right leg kicks out, jolting with the spasm of pleasure- Eddie’s quick, though, taking advantage of the movement to find a new hold at the back of your thigh; rings biting cold, he pushes until you bend for him, your knee now pressed towards your chest.

“Gonna make it so good for you.” Eddie’s mumbling pussy-drunk rambles into your cunt that’s now on display, dragging his nose through the slick that weeps out of you, all for him- “So wet for me, angel. Fuck’s sake. This all for me?”

As if he doesn’t know. The hand that isn’t busy holding you open trails up your thigh, middle finger teasing at your entrance before slipping inside, no resistance thanks to the river of slick that rushes to greet it.

There’s a soft squelching noise as Eddie adds a second, curling them up, stroking against that tender gummy spot that always skyrockets your pulse. 

The noise is almost enough to give you pause; feeling wild and flush with heat, your hand tightens in the crown of Eddie’s hair, eyes popping open as you prop yourself up on an elbow to give a strangled hiss of warning through your teeth.

Eddie senses your unease, pulls his fingers and mouth out and off (a travesty), softening the blow by giving a placating kiss to the top of your mound. “Shhh, sweetheart. S’okay. You hear that?”

Past the noise of nighttime crickets from the nearby cracked window, past the hum of the kitchen, you hear it as Eddie crawls back up- distant, tandem snores from the boys in the living room.

“They sleep like the dead. Like rocks,” Eddie promises, settling his weight into his hands planted on either side of your head, hair creating a curtain around your faces as he leans in. “So we can get our rocks off.”

“That was awful.” You kiss him anyways. He tastes like you, earthy and warm and wet, saliva mixed with your arousal as the kiss turns sloppy.

Eddie rocks his hips forwards, the friction from the fabric of his boxers making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking and smearing precum through the cotton; there’s a hurried, manic shift as you both work to strip the last pieces of clothing from yourselves, his boxers and your bra following your underwear from earlier into the dark of the room.

And then Eddie is sliding his cock through the folds of your pussy, slicking up the sizable length as much as he can before the tip nudges at your entrance; Eddie’s arms tremble with effort as yours wrap around his shoulders, soothing with a kiss to his cheek- “Lotta talk about keeping quiet, Munson. That’s all it was? Just talk?”

Now that his mouth isn’t intent on making you fall apart anymore, you’ve got some breathing room to tease. To be the one to work him up. Tucking a curly lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers trace adoringly over his temple before sliding to grip the back of his neck. “Gonna prove me wrong, hotshot?”

With this new proximity, you can see Eddie’s eyes- fixed intently on yours, black pupils nearly eclipsing the soft amber of his irises. He looks slightly feral, sweat sticking his bangs in place, lips parted, spots of pink staining his cheeks. 

As if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, Eddie’s near-silent as he slides himself in to the hilt, jaw dropping as the warmth from your walls encompasses him completely.

The chained guitar pick around his neck tickles between the valley of your breasts. He pants, chest heaving, not daring to move yet; your breath stutters. You can feel him in your throat.

“So big,” you murmur, an honest reaction but one that has Eddie’s brows drawing together, a little whine escaping as his hips jerk forward, reflexive to your words.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.” 

Eddie’s voice, strained though it may be, is on its way to regular volume. At the back of his neck, your hand flexes, a warning as he begins to rock steadily into your tight heat. 

“Gotta be good.” Biting back your own groan, you sling your leg over his waist. At this angle, you can press your heel to the dip of his lower back. “Be good and quiet for me and I’ll let you come in my p-”

His hips snap forward, audibly, subsequent wet noise obscene, filling the room. Eddie moans into the curve of your neck before your sentence is even fully formed- “Jesus, baby. Oh my god. Can’t say stuff like that, gonna come too quick-”

His cock fits along the contours of your cunt like you were made for him, ridged tip dragging against that same sensitive spot of your front wall with each pull and thrust.

Eddie’s forehead thunks into yours as he rolls it back and forth, mindlessly. All the tease has melted out of his voice: it’s been replaced with a lust-filled rasp, rock-salt and deep. 

Your voice, however, is all tease, still hushed but laced with mischief despite your mounting pleasure. “Yeah? Gonna come in my pussy?”

It’s almost not fair and you almost feel bad, seeing the way Eddie fights to make his gasp silent as the channels of your cunt clench in answer to his fucked-out expression. With his next thrust, Eddie loses the battle- a hoarse, blissful moan much too loud spills over and out into the quiet room. 

Moving quick, your hand slips from the back of Eddie’s neck to his mouth, palm flat over the plush of his lips.. The commanding tone comes easy this time (with practice, you’ll surely be a natural).

“Eddie. Be. Quiet.”

Usually, Eddie’s got stamina enough to prioritize your pleasure, making sure you’re taken care of at least twice before he even thinks of himself. Tonight, though, he’s already been straining in his jeans for hours, unbearably turned on from your earlier sharp words, pushing the limits of desperation.

Your words, once again, do the trick. Eddie’s cock pulses, and he comes hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your hand, chorus of whimpers successfully dampened. His dark brows knit together, eyes pinched shut, nostrils flaring with each stilted breath.

He’s so fucking hot when he comes, hair a riot around stormcloud eyes that open to take you in. Even prettier when he’s coming down, leaning into your hand for support before you take it away, guiding and encouraging him to lay down.

Eddie collapses, carefully enough that it doesn’t jostle you, but still with his full weight. The crown of his head radiates heat against your chin. 

His arms wrap solidly around your middle as he whispers (he’s learning) in croaky fragments, “Jesus fucking H. I think you just broke my brain. Smashed it into a million little pieces. Never come so hard in my life. I’m in love with you.”

The laugh you give him is quiet but golden, the rise and fall of your chest causing his head to bounce a bit (but Eddie could die happy between your breasts so he doesn’t mind). “See? It’s worth it to listen to me, sometimes.”

“You’re so smart. Gonna do whatever you say, forever and ever. Cart-blank.” And then he’s pushing up onto his elbows, keeping his face level with your left breast so he can suck your nipple into his mouth, gently worrying his teeth over the peaked bud.

Previously tangled in the sheets, your hand flies up to grab his shoulder, nails digging in. “Fuck. Fuck, Eddie. That’s good. And- ah- it’s ‘carte blanche’.” 

He leaves the comfort of your breast with a sigh. “Whatever you say, princess. Gonna let me fuck you some more? Your turn to be the loud one.”

[reginaofdoctorwho]

also i don't think i already posted about it but turns out i'm probably allergic to onions :(

the smell of onions cooking or eating stuff with onions in it triggered my migraines for years but last week i got take out, ate the onions because i was like "these don't smell strong, it shouldn't be that bad" and uh. it was! migraine got triggered almost instantly, my face swelled up and i got a rash on my face, and i had to keep taking the max dose of my allergy meds this whole week just to slow the pain and ease it up

also i just got exposed again because i used the same knife my mom used for onion soup to cut a slit in my pomegranate and i got the rash and swelling in my hands :( luckily i had forgotten about it in the fridge for a while so none of the seeds the knife touched were actually good enough to eat so my face is fine ig? i'll find out tomorrow

[writtenfangirl]

Hungry For You

Another TikTok trend has sparked an idea in me.

Another (short) Charles Leclerc Fanfic

Y/N spooned the food carefully on to the two plates, casting the hidden camera a wide grin as she did so. While the plates were similar in size, one had a significantly larger portion. The grilled chicken on one of the plates was practically the size of her palm, the pesto pasta still steaming as she dumped it on the plate. On her own plate, she placed barely a handful of food, the chicken cut into three small strips and the pasta’s serving size so tiny, not even a small cat would feel full.

“Babe, it’s time to eat!” Y/N called out as she shot her phone another wink. She’s placed the devise inside one of the cups of utensils, hidden away from Charles’ keen eyes. The camera had a full view of the kitchen island, where she and Charles frequently ate their meals when they were alone.

She heard his footsteps bounding towards the kitchen, the door to his gaming room slamming shut behind him.

“I am starving and it smells delicious.” He practically beamed at her as he took his place on the kitchen isle, oblivious to the camera that was filming his every move. “I don’t know how you manage to impress me with your cooking every time, cherie.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

“It’s pesto. I already know I’ll love it.”

Pesto pasta was one of his favorite dishes and with the aromatic smells of the basil and garlic hanging in the air, Y/N had no doubts about his statement.

She circled around the isle taking her seat next to Charles, placing the plate with the larger portions in front of him and the smaller sized portion in front of her. But Charles paid the food no heed.

He grinned up at her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for cooking for us, cherie.”

He did this every time she cooked. Thanked her for her efforts and grinned up at her like she hung the moon and starts. And every single time, without fail, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of that smile.

She handed him his utensils, his food finally snagging his attention before his eyes wandered to her plate. He frowned at the sight of it. “Why is your food so little?”

“What do you mean?” She asked innocently as she took the pitcher of water she had set and carefully filling their glass.

“Your food, it is so little.”

“Yeah, this was all we had,” she shrugged. “I forgot to stop by the grocery store this week and this was the last of the chicken and the pasta.” She took her utensils, getting ready to dig in when all of a sudden her plate disappeared. 

“Charles? What are you doing?” Bewildered she watched as her boyfriend dumped the contents of her plate on to his already full one.

“Eat,” he said as he pushed the fully loaded plate in front of her. There was no annoyance in his eyes, no hint of his previous hunger as he looked at her in earnest, waiting for her to dig in.

“Babe, I’m not even really that hungry,” she protested. “Come on, you need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry either,” he shrugged.

Liar. He’d been complaining the whole time she was cooking about how hungry and excited he was to eat. He always got that way after a training session and he’d been training since 9AM. Whatever lunch Charles ate during a training day was usually only enough to get him going and by the time he found his way home, he was always positively starving. And Y/N knew today was no exception.

“Just five minutes ago you said you were starving,” she deadpanned.

“You spent two hours on your feet, cooking. I know how tiring that is. I really am not hungry.”

She rolled her eyes, even as love bloomed at her chest. “You came from training.”

He waved off her concerns. “I promise, I am not hungry. And tomorrow, I will go to the grocery, buy our stuff and cook you a meal.”

It was a true miracle that Y/N didn’t grab her boyfriend right then and there and drag him to the bedroom. How she managed to snag a boyfriend so thoughtful and so selfless was beyond her. “You’re sure you’re not hungry?”

He grinned at her, his voice going deep and husky as his eyes darkened. “I’m hungry for you.” He gave her what he probably thought was sultry wink but that only served to have Y/N howling in laughter.

There was no denying how in love she was with her boyfriend but she had always been immune to his attempts at flirting. His charms would no doubt have worked on other girls but Y/N only found them cute. 

She was shaking her head as she took the other plate and dumped half of the food onto it. She ignored his protesting as she pushed the other plate towards him. She had given him the bigger chunk of chicken and the bigger half of the pasta but the piles of food were still more or less equal to each other. She doubted he even noticed the slight difference, especially since she pushed the other plate far away from him. “If we’re still hungry at the end of the meal, we can go to the cafe down the street.” 

He raised a brow at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. His face was barely an inch away from her, his green eyes practically glittering as he spoke. “Is that your move, cherie? Starving a man so you can take him out on a coffee date?”

She didn’t even try to stop her laughter, not as Charles pulled her chair closer to his own until she was pressed flushed against him. His arm automatically pulled her to him, his own lips pulled into a smile before he lowered himself on to her mouth. Their kiss was sweet, as sweet as this moment was. A moment that Y/N was sure she would never forget.

[irndad]

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

[jeon-ify]

- 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 - 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ! ⋆·˚ ༘ *

synopsis: in which the way you look after showering gets your husband worked up.

genre: romance, smut, 18+. mdni.

warnings: dilf yunho!!!!!! yunho is in his late 30s-early 40s here, nudity implied, kitchen sex, swearing, breast play, making out, female reader, big!dick yunho, hand kink, finger sucking (yunho AND reader!!) tit sucking, cervix fucking, choking kink, breeding kink, if i missed anything let me know ! :3

song for the chapter : into it - chase atlantic

happy reading !

the coconut and lime scent of your conditioner floods the first floor of your home, sending your husband into a faint distraction. the scent runs up his nostrils, up to his brain, and straight down his cock. the music you’re playing blares through your phone in the shower, your husband hearing it through to the second floor.

“I BEEN CATCHIN’ PLANES FOR THE FUN OF IT,”

you sing out extra loud, your husband pausing his speech to apologize for the background noise.

you took an everything shower today, so you already made dinner before showering— considering you’d be exhausted.

somehow, yunho put the pieces together, finishing dinner and making it the right way. you didn’t expect yunho to be so generous tonight— but here you are, standing over the stove and nibbling little pieces of the food while you waited for yunho to finish from a call he was wrapped up in.

you looked around the kitchen out of boredom, looking for things to do before you dived into the food. the way yunho’s shirt sat so pretty onto your body, riding up your thighs as your pink panties peak through the ends of the tee made your man so painfully distracted— holding himself back from fucking you over the piping hot stove.

yunho watched how the ends of your hair weren’t fully dried and how it dripped onto the back of your calves, dripping down your shiny legs. he also watched how your— his— tshirt rode up your legs anytime you reached up somewhere or bent to get something. his eyes did not leave your body.

you were still stood over the stovetop, taking little bites of the greens. you moan in how good the food is, a blend of paprika and garlic seasoning, along with the sweetness of the teriyaki sauce that yunho drizzled everywhere.

but even through the layers of seasonings he put into the food, your scent still broke through it all.

“yeah, sounds good. i’ll put in the CRA request like we mentioned previously, and i’ll email you the forums. just let me know when you need it. was there anything else i could assist you with today, mr. song?” the man on the computer responds and the call comes to an end.

you stare at how attractive he is when he’s working— all the business talk that made no fucking sense to you, but he understands it like his own language, and that in itself makes you weak.

“doll, what do you have on? it smells good.” he finally decides to speak after what felt like hours of him admiring from behind his computer screen.

a much older man admiring your hygiene is something you never thought you’d see, but yunho was drooling on the laptop beneath his fingertips.

“it’s your favorite lotion,” you look up at him through damp eyelashes and flushed cheeks, watching how his nostrils flare with every breath he takes.

it takes yunho everything in his body to not pick you up and throw you over the counter and pound a baby into your small belly. he’s much older than you are, but when he met you, he knew you’d be his companion.

“yu, this smells really yummy. you did a great job, baby.” you walk over to yunho on the other end of the table, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind him. he holds onto your hands and throws his head back onto your stomach, looking up at you.

“sweets, the last thing on my mind is dinner. let me taste you, little girl,” his soft and mature voice makes your legs quiver with excitement as yunho takes your hands in his, bringing your middle and ring finger to his mouth, sucking on the digits. you gasp in response, watching how desperate the middle aged man underneath your touch grows weak at your feet.

“i can never get enough of you. wanna fuck you all day.” he stands up to face you, bringing his lips to yours. he sucks and nibs at your bottom lip to gain quicker access to explore the rest of your mouth. you deepen the kiss, the faint taste of cigarettes cloud your small mouth, making you whimper in desperation. he slides a hand between your thighs, thumb rubbing against your clit. you’re not sure if your juices make a patch on your panties or if its from your shower. nonetheless, you are so fucking turned on right now that the last thing on your mind is dinner.

“what have you done to me, pretty girl?” he feels as though you’ve casted a spell on him. everything you do makes him feral; weak in the knees. but somehow, you make him a man.

“i’m just here, yunho. don’t give me all the credit,” you gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pushing into your tight wet cunt. he gasps in sarcasm, exploring your face as he uses your cunt to soak his fingers— bringing them up to your mouth.

you feel his fingers curl into a ‘come here’ motion, your breath hitching as he pushes against your walls. your eyes roll, grasping his forearm as he speeds up his motions. you cry out and beg for him to slow down, but he doesn’t listen.

“so pretty. look at these lips, let me kiss them.” he brings his lips to yours in an open mouthed makeout, gasping for air as he pulls away with a deep-dimpled smirk. your pussy convulses around his long fingers, as your husband groans in response.

your thighs clamp shut in an attempt to calm yourself down from how aggressively his fingers ruthlessly ravish your cunt. yunho, reaching your cervix from how long his fingers are, takes in a deep breath at how fast he’s been moving. “yu- ohh— fuck! please— i’m cumming, please i’m gonna cum!” you chant begs along with his name as if it were a mantra, feeling the way his hard cock presses into your backside.

“yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? now let me feel you cum on my cock.” he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking himself dry of your juices. you whimper in need of him inside of you. he lines himself up with your entrance as you’re bent over the counter across from the stove.

he pushes into your soaked pussy deeper, feeling his dick throb ruthlessly inside of you already. lucky for him, he was able to hold himself for almost half an hour on end while he fucks you.

“s-sir, it’s so big! i don’t think i can take y-“ you pull away from his length, feeling like you’re being ripped in half by what feels like 12 inches. he runs his hand along your back from underneath the t-shirt, in an attempt to calm you down and keep you around him.

“tiny girl, you can take me. you’ve let me fuck my cum into you hundreds of times. what’s changed, dollface?” he almost makes you cum from his voice in itself, but you decide to push back while he stays still, waiting for you to adjust to his size for what feels like the millionth time throughout your relationship.

he begins pounding into you at a quicker pace, pulling and tugging at your bare nipples from underneath you. your mouth hangs open as yunho brings his large hand to your throat to wrap itself around it. you grit through your teeth, wishing you could just cum.

you don’t feel like you want to cum, you feel like you’re going to squirt all over his body. “talk to me, baby. what’s it feel like?”

he’s being so fucking annoying and making you focus on anything else other than your orgasm, but you only moan and cry in response.

“i— ‘s too much.” whimpering and shaking in a headlock, you grasp onto yunho’s arm to get a breath of air. from the way his muscular arm wraps itself around your throat makes you cum over, and over already.

yunho gets another quick scent of your lotion and conditioner, making his cock twitch in your cervix.

“i’m almost done baby, give me another one— fuck, you smell so good. the fuck are you doing to me, baby?”

he pounds into you again, harder this time— tugging at your panties to pull you back onto his hips, planting himself deeper in you.

“nngh, oh my god!”

“oh, but i’m the one making you cry like this. give it to me, fucking milk me dry. gonna spill all my cum into your tiny stomach. let me give you my babies, hm? how’s that sound?”

he bends over so his chest is against your back as he nips at your ear. his tongue licks up your tears, planting a kiss on the end of your right eyebrow. his thrusts slow down as he holds you in place to shoot his load right into your baby maker.

“oh my— fuck! yes, so good!”

you cry out in relief that you finally got to spill out your cum onto yunho’s still cock. he lands a sharp slap on your ass before pulling you back up and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“so pretty when you cry for me. should keep a picture in my wallet.”

yunho gets down on his knees before you, licking up your thighs where your juices dried. your fingers run through his pretty softly gelled black hair.

he licks up all of your juices near your heat, using his fingers to push back the cum that threatens to drip from your pussy. your eyes roll to the back of your head as yunho places a kiss on your lower stomach, traveling up beneath your shirt to suck a generous amount of skin on your tit.

“yun— you’re sucking too hard, fuck!” he sucks and bites your nipples as if you were his lifeline,

he slaps the area he sucked on, making you gasp out in surprise. “keep my cum in you until after dinner, i’ll fuck more into you.”

so you sat at the other end of the table with your thighs clenching and unable to think about anything other than your husband pounding a shit ton of babies into you.

————————

🌷🤍🎀

well? dilfyunho anyone?????

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Fishy Business

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: you are Lando Norris' girlfriend, determined to get him to try fish despite his stubborn refusal

______________________________________________________________

Lando Norris, your boyfriend and an undeniable force on the Formula 1 circuit, was also the most stubborn eater you’d ever encountered. For all his daring maneuvers on the track, he approached food with the caution of someone facing a life-threatening situation. His diet was the carefully curated mix of nutrients and proteins that a professional athlete needed to stay in peak condition, but there was one thing you couldn’t get him to eat: fish.

It wasn’t that he was allergic or that he’d had a bad experience with it in the past—Lando simply detested the idea of eating fish. The mere mention of it had him crinkling his nose in distaste. You’d tried multiple times to introduce it into his meals, always to be met with that same stubborn resistance. It was the one challenge he refused to take on, no matter how much you teased or coaxed him.

But tonight, you were determined to change that.

You had carefully planned the meal, choosing a recipe that would be impossible for anyone, even Lando, to resist. The centerpiece was a perfectly seared salmon fillet, seasoned with lemon, garlic, and herbs—flavors you knew he loved in other dishes. You’d paired it with his favorite roasted vegetables and a light, refreshing salad, hoping that the overall appeal of the meal might disguise the fact that the main course was, in fact, fish.

As you set the table, the delicious aroma filled the kitchen, making your mouth water. You knew Lando would be home soon, fresh from a day at the simulator, and you were eager to see how he’d react. Would he recognize the scent immediately, or would he only realize what was on his plate once he sat down?

The door creaked open, and you heard the familiar sound of Lando’s keys hitting the table in the hallway. He called out for you, his voice light and filled with the warmth that never failed to make your heart flutter.

“Hey, love, where are you?”

“In the kitchen!” you replied, trying to keep your voice casual, as if you weren’t plotting to get him to finally eat something he’d spent his whole life avoiding.

Lando appeared in the doorway, still in his workout gear, looking adorably disheveled with a few strands of hair falling into his eyes. He grinned when he saw you, walking over to wrap his arms around your waist and press a kiss to your forehead.

“Something smells amazing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of hunger and affection.

You turned in his arms to face him, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. “I made dinner. I think you’re going to love it.”

He gave you a skeptical look, his nose twitching slightly as he sniffed the air again. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you sit down and find out?” you teased, gently pushing him toward the dining table.

Lando raised an eyebrow but complied, taking his seat and looking at the beautifully arranged plate in front of him. The roasted vegetables and salad caught his attention first, but then his gaze landed on the salmon, and you saw the exact moment he realized what it was.

“Is this… fish?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and mild horror.

You nodded, doing your best to keep your expression innocent. “It’s salmon. It’s really good for you, Lando. High in protein, rich in omega-3s—all the stuff you need to stay fit and healthy.”

He looked at you like you’d just suggested he eat a plate of raw liver. “You know I don’t eat fish,” he said, pushing the plate slightly away as if it might bite him.

You placed a hand on his, your touch gentle and persuasive. “You’ve never even tried it, babe. How do you know you don’t like it?”

“I just… know,” he replied, his voice lacking the usual confidence he had when making decisions. “The smell, the texture… it’s just not for me.”

You tilted your head, giving him a look that you knew he had a hard time resisting. “But you trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Lando said immediately, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to figure out where this was going.

“Then trust me when I say you’ll like this,” you said, your voice dropping to a soft, almost seductive tone. “Just one bite. For me?”

He hesitated, clearly torn between his aversion to fish and his desire to please you. You could see the internal battle playing out on his face, and you decided it was time to up the ante. Slowly, you stood up and walked around the table, stopping behind him. You leaned down, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whispered, “If you try it, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Lando shivered under your touch, his breath hitching slightly. You could feel the tension in his shoulders as he considered your offer. He was being stubborn, as usual, but you knew you were close to winning him over.

With a dramatic sigh, he finally picked up the fork, speared a small piece of the salmon, and lifted it to his mouth. You watched as he hesitated one last time before taking the bite, his eyes closing as if bracing himself for the worst.

He chewed slowly, his expression shifting from one of grim determination to mild surprise. After a moment, he swallowed and set the fork down, looking up at you with a mix of resignation and amusement.

“It’s… not as bad as I thought,” he admitted reluctantly, his voice laced with a hint of defeat.

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He chuckled, leaning back into your embrace. “Okay, you win. But I’m still not eating another bite.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, your lips grazing his earlobe again. “Just one more bite? For me?”

Lando sighed, but you could tell he was starting to relent. “You really don’t play fair, do you?”

“Never,” you whispered, your voice low and suggestive. “But you like it when I don’t.”

His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you around to sit on his lap. You let out a soft laugh as you straddled him, your hands resting on his chest as you gazed down at him. “I knew you’d be stubborn about this,” you said, your voice teasing.

“I’m not stubborn,” he replied, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer. “I just know what I like.”

“And you like me, right?” you asked, leaning in so your lips were just inches from his.

“More than anything,” Lando murmured, his eyes darkening with desire as he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a slow, heated kiss.

You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of warmth and sweetness that made your head spin. Lando’s hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer as the kiss grew more passionate, more demanding.

When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together as you tried to regain some semblance of control. But the hunger in Lando’s eyes told you that any attempt at restraint was futile.

“I tried the fish,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Now, about that reward…”

You grinned, trailing your fingers down his chest, feeling the way his breath hitched under your touch. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you replied, your voice filled with promise. “But first, you have to finish your dinner.”

Lando groaned, dropping his head back against the chair in exasperation. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you said, your tone playful but firm. “But just think about how good the reward will be when you do.”

He sighed dramatically but picked up the fork again, spearing another small piece of salmon and bringing it to his mouth. You watched with satisfaction as he chewed and swallowed, his expression less pained than before.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time softer, more lingering.

Lando hummed against your lips, his free hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m only doing this for you,” he murmured between kisses. “You know that, right?”

You smiled, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I know. And that’s why I love you.”

His expression softened at your words, a warm, adoring smile spreading across his face. “I love you too,”

[thefunkfactory]

Biker Breath

Zane was riding home from work on his bicycle when he passed a pile of stuff sitting on the curb with a sign attached saying “For Free”. Zane stopped to inspect what all was left out on the street and saw a super nice looking biker helmet, carefully picking it up he noticed some scratches and dings on the helmet but besides that it was still in perfect working condition. While he was examining it Zane noticed the rancid scent emanating out of the helmet. Holding his nose, Zane began to put the helmet back onto the curb when he heard a voice in his head that wasn’t his, it was a deeper, more masculine voice demanding him to put the helmet on. Wanting to resist, Zane set the helmet down and turned his back to it and the other stuff on the curb when the voice again demanded “Put on the helmet”, Zane was overcome with the need to put the helmet on. As he lifted the helmet up over his head Zane pleaded with the voice “Please…No…It reeks”. Feeling the voice command him to lower the helmet on his head, Zane’s mind and body obediently obeyed as he lost control of both. Upon lowering the helmet onto his head Zane could smell the reeking stench of the helmet. It reeked of sweat and B.O., the previous owner had obviously never even attempted to clean it.

Regaining consciousness and control of his body, Zane tried to take the helmet off, but quickly he heard the voice command “Breath in deep wimp” Zane once again obediently followed orders and took in a deep whiff of the helmet’s noxious stench. Zane would have normally been disgusted but he wasn’t, in fact he loved the rancid stench of sweat trapped in the helmet. Zane heard another command echo through his head, “Get on your puny bike loser”. Zane sat on his metal bicycle and began to pedal away. With every pedal, he bike became more akin to what a real man would ride. It slowly transformed into a fast and slick motorcycle.

Zane revved the bike instinctually and he felt his dick shoot to life at the same time, it was weird, Zane never was interested in motorcycles but his body was aching for more. Zane’s puny body was sitting atop a nice expensive motorcycle now but his body and face were still that of a wimpy nerd. That was soon to change, the voice started describing what a biker boy should be like. “Biker boys are unhygienic beasts who never wear deodorant, shower once a week, and never brush their teeth, all of that is for weak pussies” Zane could suddenly remember why the helmet smelled so bad, it was HIS stench that was infused into the helmet. Zane breathed in another deep whiff of the stink HE cultivated and let out a pleasurable sigh, breathing out a torrent of funky smelling breath, Zane added to the stench and made himself more loopy. Feeling his weak body get light and tingly Zane kept riding his newly minted motorcycle, he stopped at a red light and looked over at the car next to him, “Had I always had such big muscles?” Zane thought to himself as he saw his reflection in the car’s window. “No…can’t be I…” he took a breath in and inhaled more of his noxious B.O. and bad breath, “…I have always been this buff duhhh” Zane pulled off and sped home away from the stop light. Arriving home his brother was getting out of his car in the driveway, pulling up was surprised when he saw the man on the motorcycle, he looked like a stranger to him. “Hey man I think you got the wrong address” Zane’s brother told the now insanely ripped Zane, “Whatchu mean bro this my crashpad!” Zane said loudly. “Nah my brother lives here with me and my dad not you” Zanes brother remarked. Zane got off his bike and walked up to his little bro, “Heeeeeeeeeeey man chillax…no need to get your pantiessssss in a bunch” Zane drew out certain syllables on words so that he could breathe out his nasty breath that smelled like he had just eaten garlic, and fish, and hadn’t brushed his teeth in weeks. Zane’s brother’s eyes glazed over upon smelling his older brother’s stale and stinky breath, “Oh hey bro welcome home” Zane reached an arm around his brother’s shoulder and they walked to the house together. “Yeaaaaaaahhh you love your big bro’s stinking breath dont cha lil man” Zane laughed and purposely let out a blast of his funky breath into his brother’s face, “Yea…bro I- I love how…stinky…your breath i- is…I wish I was m-more like you”His brother said mindlessly as if in a trance. “Well in that case lil bro I wanna take you on a ride tonight okay? You can wear my helmet I jusssssst got it” Zane breathed out more of his rank breath while he spoke. “Yea…uhh like…totally bro…” His lil bro responded not knowing that the ride would seal his fate just how his brother’s was.

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 1. a fresh start

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: After you settle into your tiny, dingy apartment safely in the middle of nowhere, you go on the hunt for a job to help make ends meet. There, you meet someone who forces back memories you would rather forget.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, PTSD-type symptoms

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

Anybody else who walked into the small, one bedroom apartment you were currently standing in would most likely be revolted. The kitchen faucet dripped incessantly, the toilet was stained, the carpet looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade, and the entire place smelled like garlic from the pizza place downstairs. But when you looked at it, you smiled. You could work with this. Rummaging around the dollar store bags you left on the kitchen counter, you pulled out all of the cleaning supplies you picked up and got to work.

The landlord - who also happened to be the owner of the pizza place - seemed surprised you wanted to rent it. He said the place had been vacant for close to a year, and considering the state, he knocked off quite a bit on the price. But you could see the potential beyond the grime, and you never shied away from a little hard work, so you jumped at the opportunity. It took you almost the whole day, but you managed to get the place smelling halfway decent. The bathroom and kitchen both looked sparkling new - well, relatively. The only thing you couldn't figure out was the faucet, but that concerned you the least since your landlord said that utilities were included.

Aside from the low rent, the next best thing about the place was it came partially furnished. It had a queen bed, a beat up sofa, and a rickety dining room table, but that was all you needed. At this point, you were just happy to not be staying in another dirty motel. You were ready to find a home, plant down some roots, and start fresh. And Fredericksburg, Texas was just as good a town as any.

You were surprised by how cute the town was when you first drove down Main Street. It was quiet and quaint, and very much had a small town atmosphere. When you were at the dollar store, you had overheard the cashier making conversation with every single customer as if she had known them all her life. By the time it was your turn to cash out, she examined you quizzically, most likely trying to place you, but fortunately she let it go and didn't pry. You weren't in the mood to make up more lies. You were exhausted from being on the road so much the past few weeks, and you just wanted to collapse into bed in a somewhat clean room.

And that is exactly what you did, after you stocked the small fridge with some essentials from the grocery store at the corner of the street so you would at least have coffee and something to eat in the morning.

As you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling fan swirling above, you silently thanked your grandmother all those years ago who told you since you were old enough to understand when you meet a man, keep your own bank account. At the time, you laughed, wondering why on earth anyone would purposely keep secrets from their partner. That it seemed like such a betrayal to even suggest it. But luckily for you, when you met Patrick, you already had your own bank account. You let it lie dormant for a while, almost forgetting you had it. Eventually, you told yourself you should close the account. But that required going down to the branch in person, and you never seemed to find the time to do it. Or maybe some part of you always knew there was something ugly about him, and maybe your grandmother's words had more of an effect on you than you realized.

Whatever it was, it's the reason you were able to find a shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere without anybody being able to track you down. And for the first time in a long time, you closed your eyes and felt safe.

The next morning, after you drank your surprisingly palatable off brand coffee and ate a borderline stale blueberry muffin, you headed down the steps of your apartment to the sidewalk lining Main Street. You took a deep breath and looked around, a small smile playing on your lips. The town was just waking up, businesses just opening their doors, cars rolling lazily down the street. You had your own car - it was an old Honda Civic that you weren't entirely sure had many years left - but you wouldn't need it today. Picking an apartment on the main drag in town afforded you the option to walk almost anywhere. So you chose a direction and started walking, glancing in the windows of the shops, looking for any help wanted signs.

You tried a small clothing boutique and a coffee shop before entering the pharmacy. There wasn't a help wanted sign out front, but you needed to pick up a few things, anyway. Things the dollar store didn't have, or things you didn't exactly trust to buy there.

You grabbed a basket by the door and smiled at the teenager behind the counter who greeted you before heading down the first aisle. You snagged some generic pain reliever and a box of tampons before you made your way to the hair products. Flipping open the caps, you took a hesitant sniff and put them back before deciding on a cheaper bottle that smelled like strawberries and didn't make you gag. Dropping the bottles in your basket, you wandered past the makeup, looking at it longingly but knowing you wouldn't waste the money on it. Instead, you stopped in front of an end-cap where a display of chapstick caught your eye.

"Sarah?" you heard a deep voice call from behind. You ignored it and kept looking at the display, landing on a vanilla scent as the man walked past. You didn't see his face, but you smelled his cologne, and you instantly recoiled. Your heart began to slam in your chest and your throat felt tight. You squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on taking deep breaths. It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.

"Excuse me, can I grab one of those?" a girl's voice said softly behind you. Taking a shaky step back, you nodded and forced a weak smile.

"Sorry, of course," you told her. She had beautiful, dark brown eyes and thick hair with tight curls framing her face. She looked like she was in her early teens, and based on the backpack over her shoulders, you were probably right.

"Sarah?" you heard the voice call again, and you saw her eyes flick up. You realized the man with the cologne was probably related to her, and you weren't sure you would be able to handle smelling it again, so you quickly took off down the next aisle to hide, waiting until their voices carried them to the cash registers and out the front door before taking a few steadying breaths and forcing yourself to move.

Minor setback aside, you had a pretty good morning. You found you had some luck at the diner a few blocks over. The owner took a liking to you right away and interviewed you on the spot.

"You came at the perfect time, darlin'," he said, taking a seat across from you. "Just missed the breakfast rush, so I got the time to talk right now. Name's Tommy," he said, extending his hand. You smiled and shook it, introducing yourself, then quickly brought your hand back to your lap to nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt.

"You ever work in a restaurant before?"

"Uh, yeah, it's been a few years. But I think it's like riding a bike. I have really good time management skills, I have experience handling cash, I'm friendly, I'm great at anticipating customer's needs-"

Tommy laughed and patted his hand on the table.

"Sounds like you got more skills than half the waitstaff I already got. Some of the older ladies ain't exactly friendly, but they've been here so long, no one seems to mind," he explained quietly with a wink. You chuckled and glanced down at your hands.

"You from around here? I don't think I recognize you," he asked, his eyebrows pinching together. You shook your head.

"Nope, just moved here." You briefly wondered if you should lie - you were so used to lying at this point, it came as second nature - but you couldn't see what it would hurt to tell him the truth. "I'm from Pennsylvania. Just got in last night, actually."

"Long way from home, what brought you here?" he asked, leaning back to study you. You just shrugged.

"Looking for a fresh start," you said honestly. If you were really looking to start over, the lying needed to stop, too.

Tommy nodded and glanced behind you before meeting your gaze again.

"Well, you're hired. If you want the job, that is," he said. You grinned, not expecting that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. When can you start?"

"Uh, tomorrow?" you offered, your mind racing. You weren't sure if you would need new clothes so you wanted to give yourself the rest of the day, at least, to prepare.

"Works for me. Maria," Tommy called over your shoulder. You turned around and saw a beautiful woman with long, dark braids walking over. He introduced her as his wife, who also happened to be the hostess. You stood to shake her hand, exchanging warm smiles as Tommy told her your name.

"Why don't you come by tomorrow 'round 9 and Maria can show you the ropes? I work the kitchen, she's got the floor," he explained, and you nodded along excitedly.

"I'll be here," you confirmed, the grin still plastered on your face. Tommy left to head back to the kitchen as Maria told you what you needed to bring the next day. You took out your new phone and began jotting down everything she mentioned.

On the way back home, you stopped to pick up a pair of nonslip sneakers from a shoe store. Maria had given you a couple plain black skirts and black t-shirts with the diner's logo that all of the waitresses wore as their uniform before you left. To celebrate, you got a pizza from the pizza place below your apartment and watched old reruns on the ancient TV in your living room.

Things were finally starting to come together.

"Refills are free. Cream and sugar is down here, along with any extra condiments. Coffee should be made every hour but you'll go through the pot long before that," Maria said to you, pointing as she walked behind the counter. "Here's some extra notepads and pens. The computer system is kind of old but pretty easy to use. Tommy'll ring the bell when food is up, we try to move it as quick as possible before it gets cold, even if it's not your table," she said, turning around to face you. "It might take some time to learn the table numbers but we have a little cheat sheet next to all the registers. And if you're ever not sure, don't hesitate to ask."

"I think I got it," you said confidently, tapping your pen against your notepad.

"You can shadow with Betty today, she's been here for decades, long before Tommy and me ever bought the place. She knows her shit forwards and backwards," Maria said, leading you back to the kitchen where you saw an older, round woman struggling with a cardboard box.

"Here, let me help," you told her, rushing over to take the box from her.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Can you take it up front for me?"

"Of course," you said, following her through the kitchen.

Maria introduced you to Betty as you helped her stock the ketchup bottles underneath the front counter. You heard Tommy's voice call for Maria through the kitchen window and she excused herself, leaving the two of you to tend to the only two customers in the place.

The morning went by quickly. Betty was nicer than you expected. In your experience, when a newcomer joins a seasoned team, it sometimes takes time for the veterans to warm up, but she seemed very eager to show you the ropes, and she had the patience of a saint. All of the customers seemed to know her name and history, some occasionally asking about her husband or her children. As it inched closer to noon, the diner started getting busier again, so you began to branch out a bit on your own, taking a few simple orders and delivering food or refills whenever you could. Betty was deep in conversation with a regular when she waved you over.

"D'you mind takin' care of him?" she asked, nodding over to the man who just sat down. "That's Joel, Tommy's brother. Don't charge him for nothin', he comes in all the time."

You nodded and pulled your pen and notepad out of your apron as you headed over to greet him. When you finally lifted your gaze, you noticed he was wearing a worn, brown suit with a striped tie and as you got closer, you saw the little gold star pinned to his belt and the bulge of a handgun under his blazer.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you made the realization he's a cop.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine you kept repeating to yourself, forcing your feet to move. You thought you were okay by the time you stood in front of him, but then his cologne invaded your senses, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck.

Fortunately, his head was bent down looking at the menu and didn't see your reaction, which afforded you a few precious seconds to collect yourself. It's not him.

"Hey Betty, I'll have-" he glanced up and realized you were not, in fact, Betty. His warm brown eyes trailed over your face for a moment too long, making you shift your weight nervously.

"Sorry, didn't uh - have we met?" he asked, his eyes unblinking as he continued to stare, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. It's fine, you're fine.

"No," you finally managed to squeak out, shaking your head and introducing yourself right as his eyes drifted to your name tag. "What can I get for you?"

You needed to walk away. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand there smelling that fucking cologne and staring at that badge. But for some reason, he didn't answer you. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your own issues, you would have recognized the look in his eye. The look that clearly expressed interest beyond you taking his food order. And maybe, if you weren't so messed up, you would have realized he was insanely handsome. Maybe, if you could have seen past the cologne and the gold star on his waist, you would have noticed how plush his lips looked, or how big and strong his hands were. You had no idea how you could possibly miss how broad his shoulders were or how thick and soft the messy, dark curls were on top of his head.

But you did miss all of those things the first time you saw him, because he just kept staring and the scent was making your stomach turn and the fluorescent light was shining too brightly off that damn star, so you repeated yourself with a little more edge to your voice than you usually had.

He finally snapped out of it and glanced down at the menu, quickly telling you his order. You wrote it down and held your breath, only letting it go once you were around the corner and far enough away. He comes in all the time, Betty's words replayed in your mind. You were either going to need to find a way to deal with your issues, or find a new job.

"Hiya, Joel. New girl take care of you?" Betty asked as she ambled over to refill his coffee. His eyes flicked around the diner, following your form as you smiled and chatted warmly with other customers.

"Yeah, when did she start?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal, but Betty saw right through it.

"Today," she told him with a smirk. "Real smart. Pretty, too, don'tcha think?"

"Uh," Joel stammered before clearing his throat. "Yeah, suppose so."

"I think she's single," Betty told him, leaning up against the counter.

"When are you gonna quit tryin' to set me up with every woman in this town?" Joel asked her with a grin.

"Whenever you decide to finally settle down," she shot right back. "You need a woman in your life, Joel."

"Do you do this to all your customers, Betty? Grill 'em 'bout their love lives and tell 'em what they need, like you know best?"

"I do know best, Joel," she said with a wink. "And you know it."

"Yeah, well. I got my hands full with Sarah and work down at the station. Don't got time for all that," he said, taking a sip of his black coffee.

"Sarah's 'bout to be goin' off to college before you know it, and there ain't nearly enough crime in this town to keep you that busy," she said with a shake of her head.

Joel mumbled something under his breath before taking another sip of coffee and glancing around the dining room.

"What was that?" Betty asked, leaning in and cupping her ear. Joel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't think she likes me much, anyway," he said, clearer now.

"Oh, well I can find out for you, sugar. All you gotta do is ask." Betty gave Joel the biggest shit eating grin she could muster. He took a deep breath before asking what he knew would be a huge mistake, but he suddenly needed to know the answer.

"Can you..." he trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek and staring down at the closed menu.

"Can I what?"

Joel groaned and dragged his eyes back up to Betty.

"Can you find out if she'd be interested?" he finally spit out, and Betty clapped her hands.

"Of course I will, Joel! I would absolutely love to," she gushed, and he rolled his eyes again. Just then, he saw you come around the corner and go behind the counter, completely ignoring the two of you before reaching up to the kitchen window and grabbing his lunch. You turned around and gave him what looked to be a forced smile and carefully set the plate down in front of him with a bottle of ketchup. Betty took a step back and watched with a glimmer in her eye as Joel's neck began to flush.

"Can I get you anything else?" you asked. Your voice sounded sweet and you were smiling, but your smile didn't reach your eyes. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

"Nope, all set, thank you," he said, giving you a warm smile in return, but before he even had a chance to say anything else, to try to make a connection and learn more about you, you scurried away. He glanced over at Betty and raised his eyebrows.

"See?"

She waved him off and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter.

"She's just nervous, is all."

The embarrassment still sat with you by the time you arrived back to your apartment that evening. When Betty caught you off guard and asked what you thought of Joel, you couldn't turn down the idea fast enough. You must have looked and sounded crazy based on her reaction. Your only saving grace was Joel had already left the diner and didn't hear you vehemently tell her you wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't his fault, you weren't interested in hurting his feelings, but you were far too vulnerable still. The wounds were too fresh and the memories were too strong.

Besides, even if you weren't in the unfortunate position you were in, you wouldn't feel right dragging even more people down with you. You dug this grave, so you had to dig yourself out. And you were on the right track, too. As far as you knew, nobody knew where you were. You were incredibly careful, you kept a low profile, and you didn't contact a single person back home. You had no idea who you could even trust anymore, so the safest bet was to just cut all ties and start over.

You weren't going to risk everything by getting involved with some guy. Okay, he was more like a man. But still. Your situation was far too complicated to get involved with anybody. Technically, you shouldn't get involved with anybody.

No, it was a very bad idea.

So why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

"Stop it," you muttered out loud to yourself as you paced around your little apartment. With a huff, you picked up the small potted plant you bought on clearance and gave it a little bit of water from the dripping kitchen sink before putting it back on the windowsill.

Remember what he smelled like? Remember he's a cop?

That did the trick. Those two simple reminders erased all prior thoughts about the handsome sheriff who visited the diner earlier that day.

And as you tucked yourself into bed that night, you convinced yourself the only reason who were momentarily intrigued by the man's interest was flattery. You were simply flattered someone looked at you in that way. It's been a long time since anybody had, and it just made you feel good.

Yep, that's all it was.

When Joel sat down at the counter the next day and was greeted by Betty instead of you, he was surprised to find he was disappointed. He had just met you, he knew nothing about you, he barely even spoke to you. Why should he care if you were waiting on him today or not?

"She ain't here," Betty said when she caught Joel glancing around the dining room. He tried not to look deflated.

"Who?"

Betty laughed heartily at that and had to pause to catch her breath so she wouldn't spill his coffee.

"Listen, Joel," she said, setting the coffee pot down and leaning on the counter. "Remember what I said yesterday? 'Bout how I always know what's best?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, eyeing her up and bracing for what was coming next.

"Well, turns out I might have been wrong. There's a first time for everythin', right?" she said, forcing a laugh that he didn't reciprocate.

"What'dya mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't think she's interested in datin' anyone right now," was all she said, and he felt the disappointment instantly flood his veins. He didn't even realize how much he had been hoping his instinct was wrong, that maybe he misread you, but of course he was right. He was a cop, after all. He was good at reading people, it's what he was trained to do.

"That's it?"

"I don't know, Joel. Maybe she's not into men, I didn't ask any more questions," she said. "Besides, I was thinkin'. Margaret's daughter is back in town. You remember Nikki?"

Joel shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He remembered Nikki. He wasn't interested in Nikki. She was a nice girl, but he didn't feel anything when he looked at her. Not like the way he felt when he looked at you.

"Now I know for a fact that Nikki's had a crush on you since you were in high school. I could talk to Margaret at church this weekend..."

"No thanks," Joel said immediately, then glanced at his watch before standing up and tossing a tip down on the table. "Gotta get back to work, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

He turned on his heel and left before Betty had a chance to reply.

What a stupid idea. What did he expect would actually happen? That you would fall in love with him after he spoke barely three sentences to you? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hey, Joel," he heard the owner of the hardware shop call out to him in greeting as he walked by.

"Hey, Lee. How's it goin'?" Joel stopped outside the open door to the shop, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Lee sweep the floor.

"Can't complain. 'Cept, you get any leads on those vandals? Someone's been drawin' obscene things on the street signs over on Willow." Lee lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder before adding "someone even drew a phallic image on a deer crossin' sign."

Joel had to stifle a chuckle because he knew the old man was completely serious.

"I'm on it, Lee. Promise, I'll get to the bottom of it," he said with a nod.

A clatter deep within the store pulled both of their attention toward the noise.

"You alright back there, miss?" Lee called, peering down the aisle. Joel's breath caught in his throat when he heard your voice.

"Yeah, sorry! Just dropped something," you replied, emerging from the aisle looking a little flustered and holding an array of tools in your hands. You stiffened before you even laid eyes on him, like you could sense him before even seeing he was there. Joel couldn't help but take it a little personally. Why were you so sweet and friendly to Lee and other customers at the diner, but so cold to him?

You glanced his way nervously and he tried to give you a reassuring smile, maybe even a quick hello, but you immediately turned to address Lee, asking him questions on how to fix a kitchen faucet. Joel watched as Lee picked out the right tool for you and explained how to fix it, but it was clear as day you were having a hard time following. Lee must have noticed as well.

"You ever fix anythin' 'round a house, sweetheart?" Lee asked, and a little pink dusted your cheeks, making Joel's heart flutter in his chest.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked him with a sweet smile. Why wouldn't you look at him like that?

Lee laughed good-naturedly before turning to Joel.

"Joel, would you mind helpin' her out? Her place's on the way back to the station."

Your smile fell and you instantly shook your head, eyes widening as you clutched the tool in your hand.

"N-no, that's okay, I can manage," you said, first to Lee, then braved a glance in his direction before dropping your eyes to the floor.

A big part of Joel told himself to just give up, just let you be and ignore whatever it was that made you dislike him so much. But he just couldn't do it.

"Not a problem, it should just take a second," Joel finally said, tilting his head to look at you. "Where d'you live?"

He could tell you were incredibly uncomfortable now, and he wondered if he should stop pushing it. It looked like you could hardly breathe as you stared at the floor and considered your options.

"Just a few blocks that way," you said meekly, pointing north up Main Street. Joel pushed himself off the doorframe and stood aside so you could squeeze through without getting too close to him, and for that you seemed grateful. He nodded to Lee before following you down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say.

"You likin' it here so far?"

"Uh huh," you replied, your gaze trained straight ahead. The pair of you walked in an awkward silence for another minute before he tried again.

"You got a place right on Main?"

"Above the pizza parlor," you said, and before he could follow up with another question, you suddenly stopped walking. He turned around when he realized and gave you a confused look.

"I really appreciate the offer, but I think I can figure out the sink for myself," you told him, forcing yourself to look into his eyes this time when you spoke.

"It's no trouble. It's what we all do 'round here, we help each other out," he replied. You fidgeted with the strap of your purse and averted your gaze. He waited for you to weigh your options, not wanting to pressure you but also not ready to give up, either. Finally, you spoke.

"You said it'll be quick?"

He grinned and nodded.

"Less than ten minutes."

You sighed and forced yourself to continue walking.

"Okay, if you're sure you don't mind..."

"I'm sure."

You walked in silence the rest of the way to your apartment. Joel seemed nice enough, and you could probably even get over the fact he was a cop, but you just couldn't get past the fucking cologne. It permeated every molecule of air whenever he was near, and you couldn't stop the horrible memories that came flooding back. You knew you would end up regretting allowing him into your apartment because you would end up spending the rest of the day trying to rid your little sanctuary of that scent. But you were weak. You never were very good at saying no. And this time was no exception.

You unlocked the front door and Joel held it open while you led him up the creaky stairs, then unlocked the second door at the top that led directly into your small apartment. He closed the door behind him and glanced around, taking in your space for the first time.

"Cozy," he finally said, and you let out a soft chuckle.

"You could say that," you replied. The room wasn't very big, but he noticed the moment you both entered, you put as much space between the two of you as you could. Your eyes were flicking around the room anxiously, your back against the only window and your fingers clutching the tool to your chest, toying with it nervously. He took a couple steps towards you and your fidgeting stopped. You dragged your gaze up to his as he studied your curious behavior. If it wasn't obvious before, it was crystal clear now: he made you incredibly uncomfortable.

Rather than make things worse, he stopped halfway across the room and just held out his hand. You stared at it, unmoving and barely breathing before he cleared his throat.

"Wrench?"

"Oh," you said softly, letting out a shaky breath before taking a step forward and handing him the tool you had just bought. He took it and gave you one more look before turning back towards the small kitchen. He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of a chair, and your throat went dry when you clocked the gun on his waist.

You watched him warily as he flicked on the overhead light and fiddled with the lever of the sink before opening the cabinets underneath and peering inside at the plumbing. You hardly moved a muscle as you watched him. You wished you could light the scented candle on your table to help minimize the cologne, but you were too nervous he would find that suggestive. The silence became deafening as he worked, and you felt compelled to say something.

"Can I get you some water?"

He stopped what he was doing and gave you a small smirk.

"As long as it ain't from the tap," he said, tilting his head towards the faucet he currently had taken apart. You smiled and walked quickly over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. He noticed your fingers shaking slightly when you handed him the water, and he frowned.

"You alright?"

"Me?" you squeaked, as if there were anyone else in the room he could be addressing. He nodded slowly and unscrewed the cap, still staring at you.

"I'm fine," you assured him, but still took a few paces back to stand next to your window again. Far away from him. He looked you up and down as he took a sip of his water before setting the bottle down on the counter.

"I can tell you got some issue with me," he began, and you stilled, watching him carefully from across the room, clutching the water bottle tightly against your chest. You shook your head quickly, but he held out a hand to stop you.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the diner," he said.

"W-what do you mean?" you stammered.

"Betty," he added, raising his eyebrows. "She's got a tendency to stick her nose where it don't belong, and I know she said somethin' to you 'bout me. I just wanted to apologize if that put you in tough spot."

"Oh, that's alright," you told him, quickly waving him off. He chewed the corner of his mouth as he studied your surprisingly relaxed response. So Betty's prying wasn't the problem.

"You gotta give me somethin' here," he said after a moment, and you dropped your gaze to your feet. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," you said softly, your eyes still pinned to the floor.

"Then why can't you stand lookin' at me for more than five seconds?" he asked, desperate now to know the answer.

"Does it matter?" you whispered.

"I wish it didn't," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. You finally looked up at him now, taking in his hurt expression, and you felt your resolve crumbling. What happened to you wasn't this man's fault.

"What does that mean?" you asked him, and it was his turn to look away.

"Nothin'," he finally mumbled, his heart slamming against his chest.

"It's your cologne," you blurted out, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.

"My... cologne?"

"It's nothing personal, I'm just sensitive to smells." He knew you were lying. Your entire apartment smelled like garlic and marinara sauce from the pizza place downstairs. But he decided not to push it.

"My daughter - Sarah - she got it for me for Father's Day. Truth be told, I don't like it much, either," he told you, and much to his relief, he saw the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. He just shrugged and turned back to the sink.

"Nothin' for you to be sorry 'bout. Thought I offended you or somethin', is all," he told you as he worked on putting the faucet back together.

You took a few tentative steps closer to peer over his shoulder.

"Can you show me what you did to fix it?" you asked. He straightened up to look at you and twirled the wrench in his hand, deciding to be bold.

"If I do that, then I won't have an excuse to come see you when it breaks again."

You bit your lip to hide your smile as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He grinned and turned back to the sink. Maybe he still had a chance. He was nearly finished, but he showed mercy on you and explained what he did, anyway.

Once he was done, you walked him down to the first floor, thanking him profusely along the way.

"Don't mention it," he said, shoving his arms through his blazer as he walked, but turned back before you closed the door.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gazed up at him. Now that you were back outside and the scent wasn't so strong, you allowed yourself to acknowledge that Joel was a good looking man. A really good looking man. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed Patrick for ruining so many things for you, but you were afraid the worst thing he might have actually ruined for you was Joel.

You slowly nodded, then he grinned and tilted his head to the side.

"You have yourself a good rest of the day, sweetheart."

You felt yourself blush at the term of endearment, but luckily he had already turned away.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @merz-8 @sarap-77

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan —Roan’s having a hard time adapting to the new babysitter. stepmom!reader, 1.4k

Eddie’s car is parked poorly on the driveway, but it’s there, and it’s nice to see after a long day. You park snugly behind him, pull your purse onto your shoulder, and rush out of your car, up the steps to the house. 

You open the heavy front door.

“Roan?” you ask, greeted by the smell of Eddie’s tomato pasta and fresh bleach. “Eddie, did you mop?” 

“Sasha mopped,” Eddie corrects from the top of the stairs. “She’s up here.” 

“Sasha?” 

“Roan.” He smiles at you. “Sasha is long gone home, baby. And if I were you I wouldn’t say her name. It hasn’t got me super far.” 

You wince, hanging your purse and coat over the bannister and shucking off your shoes, aching feet a little less painful on the carpet of the stairs. Eddie waits for you on the landing, and he kisses you when you’re close enough, to your fear. 

“I’m gonna fall.” 

“No,” he says, encouraging you against him with a forearm to the small of your back. “Like I’d let you.” 

“Is it really bad?” 

“She went into a full blown nuclear meltdown. I don’t think Sasha will be back any time soon, she looked shell-shocked,” Eddie says. 

His eyes flare wide and his lips pucker, but he looks less worried and more entertained. He knows Roan is gonna be fine eventually. She has a case of the crankies because nobody will let her have her way (but you would if you could).

“She definitely wants to see me?” 

“I think you’re the only person she wants to see. She kept pushing me off of the bed.” 

“Oh.” You kiss his cheek. He smiles like he did the very first time you kissed him, surprised and elated to be liked, which is a tad silly —you love him. “Hello. Dinner smells nice.” 

“It does, doesn’t it? I’m gonna go make some garlic bread if you don’t need me.”

You hold his arm. It’s strange to be in love sometimes. You coparent his occasionally angry child. He makes you dinner every single night. There’s barely time to say hello, but you say it because saying hi to him is always, always fun. 

Eddie gives you a quick hug. “I’m downstairs if you want me,” he promises. 

You ease around one another. He goes down the stairs too quickly, you knock gently against ‘Princess Roan’s’ door. The placard is missing a few gems, but it’s still sparkly. 

There’s no answer.

“Hello?” you ask, knocking the door again. “Baby, I’m coming in to see you.” 

“…Okay.” 

You smile at the sound of her voice. You’ve missed her, even though it hasn’t been that long. It’s better to see her, opening her door, finding her all curled up on her bed. She’s mostly guilty, you’d say, but still annoyed at the situation. 

“Hey, angel,” you say, pausing against her doorway. 

“Hi, mom.” 

You grin. “Dad told me what happened.” She tenses, expecting a telling off, but Eddie has that covered. She can’t treat people the way she did, pushing poor Sasha and screaming at her to go away isn’t fair, but she had her reasons. Neither you nor Eddie plan to ignore them. “You okay?” 

“Fine.” 

“What can I do to make you feel better than fine?” you ask. 

“Let me come to work with you.” 

“I told you already, Ro. You can only come with me for emergencies. They’re very grumpy at work.” 

She glares and curls tighter into her ball. She’s small, less than a third your size but with feelings that would threaten to tip you over. Her dress is creased to death and her face is covered in tears. 

“Wanna get dressed for bed?” you ask. 

Roan sighs tiredly. “No.” 

“Just let me wash your face then, princess. Tears make your eyes sore after a while.” 

“Can you hug me?” Roan asks shyly. 

You cross the room. She slides across her bed to make more room for you than you need, but you love how big she seems to think you are, in a way. Like she sees you as much older, maybe more protective, or that’s what you’d like to think. You lay down in her bed, and you move your arm from your side to let her know the hug factor is ready for business. 

She lays her head on your shoulder. 

“It’s hard missing you,” you say. 

It’s hard missing both of them. You feel like a lot of your life is totally wasted at work when you could be talking yourself hoarse with Eddie, Roan between you both or on someone’s lap. You’d rest your face on his arm and watch his lips make each word. You could do it forever, but the world doesn’t let you. His stories and jokes have to wait until the weekend.

“It is?” Roan asks quietly.

“It’s so hard. I miss you all the time.”

“I miss you too,” Roan says. 

“I know.” Her bed is crazy comfortable. You stretch out and turn your face down to hers, back twinging, content to stay her with her forever. “Can I give you a little kiss?” 

She laughs and turns her cheek to you for kissing. 

“It’s been a long time since I asked you that, huh?” you say, pressing three light kisses in the same place. 

“You aks me sometimes.” 

“You never ask me!” you tease in a shouting-whisper. “You just plant them on me!” 

“You like kisses.” 

“I love ‘em. You and dad give the best kisses I ever had.” 

She smiles, but it slowly turns into a frown. “I don’t like being home with Sasha.” 

“It’s summertime, bug. Me and dad have to work, Wayne has to work. We can’t find any other way.” 

“Sasha doesn’t… She’s not… Ugh.” Roan rubs her sad face into your chest. 

“Sasha’s still a stranger, baby, that’s all it is. I know she seems a bit weird right now, but that’s, like, how meeting new people goes!” You hug her to you loosely. “You remember when you met me?” 

“You liked me on the first day,” Roan says. 

“Of course I did.” 

“Sasha doesn’t like me.” 

“Sasha thinks you’re awesome. But when I first met you, Ro, you were littler, and you liked to cuddle more. It was easier for me and you. Plus, I think things for me and you are much more special.” 

“She doesn’t like me anymore.” 

You coo sympathetically. “No way. I think if you say sorry, and maybe me and dad can explain, Sasha won’t mind.” 

“I just wanted you,” she says. 

“I know. It’s okay if we miss each other, because we always get to see each other before dinner.” 

“Is dad still mad at me?” 

You sit up to look down at her, stroking the dark baby curls away from her face, smiling as they spring back into place. “Nah. But maybe he deserves an apology like Sasha. He said you gave him a couple of pushes too.” 

“He was trying to give me a hug and I was still mad,” she complains. 

“That’s okay. I guess dad’s not the kind to hold a grudge anyways.” 

Eddie absolutely holds grudges. He has one-sided beef with half the town and mutual beef with the other half, but he doesn’t hold one with Roan. You wipe the tear stains from her cheeks with a warm cloth and get her changed into clean pyjamas, holding her hand the whole time at her insistence, which makes doing her buttons up hard. 

“Why can’t uncle Steve have me?” Roan asks as you carry her downstairs. 

“Because he has a job, too.” You put her down at the bottom of the stairs. “Most grown ups do.” 

“And you can’t have summer vacation?” 

“I wish, baby. I wish.” 

Roan walks ahead of you into the kitchen, where Eddie’s setting the table, pasta and garlic bread and a big tossed salad waiting. Roan’s place has been set especially for her, with her glass of water, her glass of juice, her favourite fork, and the big purple cushion on her seat. 

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks her, bending at the waist when she holds up her arms. 

He gives her a soft hug, patting her back between lazy up and downs. 

“Sorry, daddy.” 

“That’s okay,” he says genuinely, “I know summer is hard. Maybe I can get some more days off soon.” 

That sounds like a good idea. 

“Please,” Roan says. 

Eddie coils one of her curls around his finger. “I’ll see what I can do. And you’re going to be nicer to Sasha?” 

“Yes. Sorry.” 

Eddie tips her head back to kiss her nose. “I don’t want you to be sorry, I just want you to be kind.” 

“‘Cos kind is the new cool,” Roan says. 

“Yes!” He drags her up his chest to squeeze her tightly. “And we’re the coolest cats in town.” 

[munsonsmixtapes]

Angel

Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!shy!probie!reader

summary: You and Buck have been acting weird since the night at the bar and the other members of the 118 get suspicious of your relationship

word count: 2k

part one part three part four part five

The kitchen was empty when you showed up to work. You had gotten there early to prepare the meal you were going to share together to thank the crew for being so welcoming. You had a big feast planned out and were really looking forward to everyone enjoying the meal you prepared for them and the time that it took to do so.

Not only had you wanted to impress Bobby, but you also wanted to impress Buck…maybe a little. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the night before and were suddenly really excited to see him.

It seemed like everyone entered at the same time and they all followed the smell of your cookies that had cooled down just enough. Buck was the first to enter the kitchen and he reached for a cookie, but you slapped his hand before he could get one.

“Damn, slugger,” he winced as he clutched his hand to his chest in a dramatic manner. You had every intention of letting him have a cookie, but now you kind of wanted him to work for it.

“Who’s slugger?” Hen asked as she got a cookie and took a bite.

“Nothing,” Buck winked at you. “Just an inside joke.” You felt your cheeks warm and you lowered your head, feeling your cheeks warm.

“An inside joke?” Eddie asked as he also got a cookie and took a huge bite out of it. “This is so good. What’s the occasion?”

“Yes,” you nodded your head. “And I just wanted to make you guys something to thank you.” You felt yourself becoming all shy again despite how close you were getting to everyone.

“You didn’t have to thank us,” Bobby spoke up as he entered the kitchen, followed by Chimney and Ravi, all reaching for the baking sheet, now the only one not with a cookie being Buck. “You’re family now.”

Your heart warmed at the words and you turned to Bobby who gave you a smile. You then turned back to Buck who was already looking at you, a smirk playing on his pink lips. You picked up a cookie off the sheet and handed it to him, your fingers brushing as he reached out to grab it.

“Well, since we’re family, I’m making you all my best dish. Homemade lasagna.”

“Sounds great,” Eddie gave your shoulder a squeeze and Buck didn’t miss it, still unsure of whether or not something was happening between the two of you. He really hoped there wasn't.

“Is there going to be garlic bread?” He asked and you gave him a look as if to say "Really?"

“You're right," he chuckled. "Stupid question."

"Of course there's going to be garlic bread, Buckley. And salad and more cookies." You smiled to yourself proudly as you watched the rest of the crew devour the cookies you had gotten up early to bake.

"Good," Chimney spoke up. "Because these definitely won't last until dinner." He grabbed another cookie and chewed on it.

"Yeah," Ravi chimed in, grabbing another one as well. At that point, it was hard to keep track of how many there were to begin with. You were so glad you had doubled the recipe at the last minute.

Buck moved closer to you, letting his shoulder brush yours and you were still unsure of his intentions as far as you were concerned. You were still very unsure whether or not he was actually interested in you. Maybe you'd have to ask Eddie since asking Buck himself was definitely not something you felt ready to do.

Even though you were getting more comfortable with him since you had hung out at the bar the night before, you still didn't feel as close to him as you did to Eddie, who had become your closest friend in the 118. He was like a brother to you and you were very grateful to have him.

You turned in his direction, but you weren't thinking about him. Buck had invaded your mind and all you could think about was how you should have just taken the chance and kissed him in the elevator the night before like you had wanted to. You weren't sure how it would have played out, but you would have hoped that he would have returned it.

"Whatcha thinking about over there, slugger?" Buck nudged your shoulder and you immediately pulled your attention away from Eddie, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"Nothing," you shook your head.

"If you like him, you should say something," he said low enough for just you to hear.

"I don't like Eddie." And you didn't. Not like that, anyway. You were afraid you were starting to feel that way about Buck, though. But you were going to push those feelings down because you didn't think that getting involved romantically with a coworker was the best idea. You had seen that play out so many times and it never ended well.

"Well, it seems like you do with the hearts that were forming in your eyes." How were you going to explain that you were thinking about him and just happened to be looking in Eddie's direction? And it would have been just downright embarrassing to admit that you were thinking about kissing him. As far as you were concerned, you were going to take that secret to your grave.

"Alright, I guess I believe you," he nudged you shoulder one more time before grabbing one more cookie than heading over to the couch to take a seat.

Buck didn't understand how you couldn't see how he felt about you. Everyone else in the 118 could, so why did you seem so clueless? And why couldn't tell if his feelings were reciprocated? That was something that was so obvious to him, but you were just a big question mark. You were mysterious and he couldn't figure you out for the life of him.

He knew that you were shy and maybe he just needed to get closer to you for you to fully open up. But then there was Eddie. You were definitely close to him and Buck was definitely jealous of that even though he'd never admit it. Every time he watched the two of you, he felt sick to stomach and would suddenly be filled with anger.

He watched Eddie whispering something as the two of you sat on the couch, not even aware that he was crumbling his cookie in his fist, catching the attention of Chimney. He sat to the left of him, completely blocking his view of you and Eddie and maybe that was for the best.

“What’s going on, Buck?” Chimney asked and Buck just furrowed his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” Buck shook his head.

“Well, something clearly made you upset since you crumbled your cookie.” Buck looked down and opened his hand, the cookie crumbs falling to the table.

“It’s nothing, Chim, I swear.” Buck knew that Chimney was just looking out for him, but it just seemed like he was trying to pry and Buck didn’t like that. Not one bit. This was no one’s business but his own. And maybe yours if he ever got the guts to tell you how he felt.

“Well, let’s just say that if looks could kill, Eddie would definitely be dead.”

Buck sat with the words the entire day, deciding that he was finally going to tell you after work. He could see how it would play out so clearly in his head. He’d show up at your apartment and tell you exactly how he felt about you and you’d respond with a kiss before telling him that you felt the same way. You’d then invite him inside and the two of you would snuggle up on your couch and watch a movie, your night filled with nothing but kisses and giggles.

But all of that came crashing down when he watched Eddie chasing you around the firehouse. As soon as he caught you, he picked you up and spun you around, giggles spilling from both of your mouths. Nothing going on between you and Eddie his ass. He didn’t want to see the rest of the interaction and hurried to his locker to grab his stuff. He really needed to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

“Damn, where’s the fire, Buck?” Hen chuckled. “Got a hot date?”

“Something like that,” Buck muttered under his breath as he put the strap of his bag over his shoulder, making a beeline for his jeep just in time to watch you and Eddie exit the firehouse to the parking lot.

“Hey, Eds,” you called after him. Eds? Yeah, Buck was so fucked. “Can I get a ride to the bar? I left my car there last night.”

“Sorry, I have to go pick up Chris. But Buck should be able to.” Eddie was trying his hardest to set the two of you up and he was hoping that now he would finally be successful. He had hoped that leaving the two of you alone at the bar the night before would have made you confess your feelings to each other, but considering the fact that you weren’t acting like a couple, he was beginning to think that didn’t happen.

“Is that okay, Buck?” There was no fucking way that he was going to be in a car alone with you. You were a taken woman and he was afraid of what he would do. He wanted to kiss you so bad and he definitely wasn’t going to hurt his best friend by doing so.

“Sure, come on.” He nodded his head towards the parking lot and you followed him. He should have known that he couldn’t say no to you. Once you were both in his jeep, he sped off to the bar, simultaneously wanting you to be out of the car as soon as possible but also wanting to spend time with you. He couldn’t seem to make up his mind. Especially since it seemed like you were dating his best friend.

Buck was suspiciously quiet as he drove, maybe going a little bit over the speed limit. You looked over at him and could see that his jaw was clenched and he seemed very upset. What had happened that the man who never shut up had been rendered speechless? Surely it had been your fault, right?

“Buck?” You asked, turning to look at him again. He kept quiet, not even looking your way. “Buck, c’mon, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “It’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not. I know we’re not exactly close, but you can tell me, I promise.” His anger was reaching its peak as he pulled into the parking lot of the bar. He pulled into a spot and put the jeep in park before getting out, making his way towards the building. He couldn’t tell you now. He really couldn’t.

“Buck,” you called after him as you followed his lead, trying to catch up to him. “Buck, please,” you pleaded.

Now he felt like a dick. All you were trying to do was talk to him and he was treating you like garbage. You didn’t deserve that. Especially when you didn’t do anything wrong.

“You wanna know what’s going on?” He asked, turning around to face you. “Fine,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I like you, okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. Of course he liked you. You were friends, right? Unless there was some underlying meaning to his words that you were missing.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the moment you stepped into the fire house and it’s driving me fucking crazy.” He was stepping closer to you and you were just trying to wrap your head around the whole thing. He liked you? As more than a friend? Since when?

“You like me?” That was not what you thought he was going to say. It was very common for the people you liked to not reciprocate your feelings, shutting you down time and time again. But this was different. Buck liked you. He liked you and as more than a friend.

“I do,” he nodded. “But don’t worry about it. I know you’re with Eddie.” Where had he gotten that impression? You and Eddie were friends. Just friends, absolutely no attraction between you. And Buck should have known that.

“Buck, I’m not with Eddie,” you laughed. “He’s just a friend. More like a brother, actually.”

“You what-”

“I like you,” you told him, taking his hands in yours. His eyes widened then he looked on either side of him, but you grabbed him by his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Yes, you, Buck.”

“But, what about-”

“For once in your life will you please just shut up?” You asked and pressed your lips to his. He gasped into your mouth but he eventually melted into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his lips slotted between yours.

It was soft and sweet and everything either of you could have imagined. His lips were just as soft as you were hoping and he seemed to pour all of his feelings for you that he had accumulated over the past few weeks into the kiss, making you feel nothing but special.

Just as he licked into your mouth, a rain droplet hit your cheek. You pulled away just as it started to downpour and Buck grabbed you by the hand and pulled you under the awning to shield you both from the rain and his lips found yours once again and he smiled into it.

“What?” You laughed.

“Nothing,” he pecked your lips. “You’re just an angel.”

[petriwriting]

My Chef - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: You stay the night at Theo's, he makes you dinner. Oneshot. Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Little-bit of soft Theo. Established relationship, Sad-about-his-dead-mom-Theo.

A/N: You're telling me fannon italian!Theo can't cook pasta? Nah. Based on a scene from the movie chef. Bonus: Here's the recipe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJUiWdM__Qw

It was a quiet evening, you were at Theo's house, luckily his father hadn't bothered being home all weekend. Otherwise, the house would have been an un-ideal place to be with his father around. but the house was silent, apart from the Nott house elf, who was tidying the halls, despite Theo telling him to take the night off. You were wearing Theo's jumper, laying in his bed. You'd been relaxing. Since school was out for the summer, there wasn't really much else to do. You had mentioned you were hungry, and without much notice Theo disappeared into the kitchen. It was sweet, he said he could cook for you, which he had never done before.

You wandered through the halls of his house, looking curiously at how sterile the house seemed. There wasn't many family photos, or really much decoration. One photo was of Theo and his father, which made you smile slightly seeing it. As you made your way into the kitchen, you were met with the smell of fresh pasta.

Theo was kneading the dough, although he was unfortunately making a mess. He smiled as he greeted you. "Hi," he said softly. you sat at the kitchen counter, watching him work. "This part isn't as fun." He said. "Well it looks like fun." you chuckled. "Do you want to try?" he asked. "sure." you washed you hands, rolling up your sleeves and standing in front of the ball of dough on the counter, you were watching Theo's hands as he demonstrated. . .

Theo stood behind you, wrapping his arms around you, sprinkling some more flour over the work surface. "just like this." he said softly, taking your hands and guiding your movements. you flushed slightly, feeling the warmth of your cheeks from being so close to him. You could smell his scent, it was a mixture of tobacco and cedar.

"Okay, my arms are a bit sore now." you admitted. "Maybe it isn't all that fun." you said. Theo chuckled. "I'll take it from here then," he said happily. you turned to him, he was so close to your face. You wanted to kiss him, but didn't, instead taking a bit of flour and tapping it onto his nose. He laughed, playing along after wiping himself off.

"that was rude," he quipped jokingly.

You continued to linger around the kitchen, watching Theo as he cooked. You had no idea previously that he could cook, as it wasn't a skill that most men have.

The smell of fresh garlic filled the home as your stomach growled in hunger. Theodore Nott would make an amazing housewife, he was kind, attentive and he could cook. It made you feel warm and fuzzy to think that he would, in fact made an excellent husband one day. After some time, he broke the silence. "have a seat," theo said finally. "I'll set the table for us."

You follow suit, taking a seat at the large dining table. watching as Theo set two plates on the table, napkins, and cutlery. he even grabbed two glasses to pour each of you a glass of wine to pair with the dinner, finally lighting a candle, just for ambiance.

A relaxed afternoon had now blossomed into a somewhat romantic date. you were not complaining at all.

"Thank you for cooking, Ted." you said, before taking a bite. It was sweet, it wasn't very often that Theo would lean into his italian heritage, although on that night you were very thankful for it. "Of course," he says. "Buon appetito." 

As you took your first bite, it was delicious. you were in awe, each flavor complimented each other perfectly. "oh merlin." you exclaimed. "This is delicious!" Theo smiled, watching you enjoy his work he was quite pleased with himself.

you finished up pretty quickly, sitting at the table with Theo. before too long you were sipping wine together. "Where did you learn to cook like that?" you asked curiously.

"Well," he said, slightly stiffening up. "My mother taught me to make fresh pasta as a child." he explained, "It's one of my favorite memories with her." he said somewhat sadly.

"Oh. I'm sorry." you said quietly. "It's alright." he insisted. "It's nice to honor her memory." you were silent, letting Theo speak, it was relief for him to finally be able to talk about it with someone who actually cared. you were happy to listen to him talk about his mother, or anything really. "I think she would have really liked you." he admitted. you smiled softly. "I would have loved to meet her." you said.

This was Theo's soft spot. "I wish she could have met you," he says, softly, looking down. You didn't want to pry, or come across as cold, so you rested your hand on his and rubbed his hand with your thumb gently. The two of you enjoyed your meal, and the glasses of wine. You were quietly because you were eating, and because it was genuinely a good home-cooked meal which you hadn't had in a while. after some time, You got up from your seat walking over to Theo, giving him a hug. a genuine embrace, which Theo melted into immediately.

"Thank you for dinner." you said softly. "It was really delicious. I didn't know you were secretly a chef," you smirked. This earned a chuckle out of Theo "Well, there's a lot most people don't know about me." he said. "But you aren't most people."

"yeah?" you asked, just wanting to hear him talk. when he opened up, which he rarely did from being scolded for it so many times in his life, it made you feel closer to him. "Yes."

"I don't think i've ever told anyone that before- About my mother." he admitted. "But it's different with you."

"why is that?" you asked. "Because i'm in love with you." he says simply, standing up, looking at you deeply. He was playing with your hands. you were smiling. it was a blissful moment. He was memorizing the contours of your face in the candle-light. he looked at you as if he would never see you again, soaking in the feeling. "And..." he said, very matter-of-factly, his more outward cocky attitude showing a bit more as he relaxed. "you know what they say," you looked at him, pretending to be confused. "What do they say?" you retorted. "Kiss the chef." he smiled softly, leaning into the embrace to kiss you, melting into the moment. It was a sweet and romantic kiss that you'd find in romance novels.

"I love you." he whispered. "I love you."

[illusivelle]

just right

pairing: carmen 'carmy' berzatto x reader rating: t (for now) length: 1,699 words content: mild cursing summary: you go to the market every week like clockwork, normally one of the first ones there. but you don't expect to see a familiar face standing at one your favourite vendors. a/n: did someone say brain rot? hope you all enjoy this one. i just can't get enough of a neighbour trope apparently. not proofread although not exactly a middle of the night dump - more like middle of the day. read part one link to ao3 here!

You'd gone from never seeing your neighbour, Carmen — no, Carmy — to seeing him every so often. In the halls mid afternoon, when you'd just come home and were ready to settle in and it looked like he was heading out to start his evening. Sometimes out in front of the building while you exchanged your goods with your elderly neighbour, fresh bread for flowers and greens, Carmy strolling into the apartment with his own bag in tow. And now, well before most of the city had even had their first coffee, at the farmer's market.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. The silhouette of your neighbour that started to haunt your dreams at night. Floppy soft curls, stark blue eyes, tattoos littered over the carved muscles of his arms and hands. But as you slowed your pace to a near stop and focused, you knew it wasn't just your eyes playing tricks on you. There was Carmy standing underneath the tent of one of your favourite growers, a tattooed hand covering his mouth as he grazed his knuckles along his lips. Those blue eyes bright even this far away, darting between the offerings on the table and the familiar face behind the counter who was eagerly smiling and chatting him up.

And again, you were rendered frozen. He hadn't even looked your way and yet your feet felt cemented to the ground in your indecision.

Go to pick out your produce like any other day, or turn around and run?

The latter made your brows pinch together because why was that even an option? Carmy didn't own the market, and he sure as shit wasn't going to be the reason you leave the market fruitless (literally). But there was a churning low inside your belly, a wash of nerves as you started to close the distance between the two of you. Or rather, between you and the stall. The vendor — the real reason you were approaching now, and it had nothing to do with the undeniably attractive man standing there, too.

You didn't look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with the incredibly interesting purple cauliflower, flipping it in your hand a couple of times before you heard the soft grumble of somebody clearing their throat.

But still, you didn't look up from staring at the vegetable, like it was the single most fascinating thing in the world. And truly, it was, because you had no idea that cauliflower could even be another colour other than white, nevermind the fact that these stalks were larger than usual with its long leaves cradling them on every side.

Maybe that was your first mistake, going blindly for the first and nearest thing you saw instead of picking up something you were used to. God, why didn't you pick up the onion or garlic or tomato? Or maybe, just maybe, it was an unconscious choice to try to break through the hypothetical wall between you and your neighbour.

"Hi."

The look of shock on your face wasn't exactly fake. Carmy did surprise you. Partly because you weren't expecting him to say anything to you at all, but mostly because when you tipped your head to acknowledge him, he was suddenly so incredibly close. Close enough for you to catch the lingering smell of smoke, a hint of coffee, and fresh soap. A strange blend but on him, it oddly worked — and made you want to lean in closer.

"Hi."

"It's sweet."

"What?"

"A little nutty."

"I don't—"

"The cauliflower." A shy smile split Carmy's lips as he stared pointedly at the bunch of purple florets in your hand before he locked his gaze with yours. "Mostly sweet, though."

Right, the cauliflower. "Too sweet, you think?" Your attention faltered for a second and landed on his lips at the same time he decided to roll his tongue along the bottom one.

"Mm, just right, I'd say."

"Just right."

What was it about Carmy's presence that made you want to sit with it a moment longer? Your conversations with him have mostly been in passing save for the time you handed him his package, but even that was short, only a few words exchanged between the two of you. It didn't matter how little he said, you hung onto the words. Not quite grasping for more but appreciating that he wasn't the type to speak just to fill the air. Appreciating that there seemed to be more under the surface he wasn't voicing, but was clear if you just had enough courage to look into his eyes a little bit longer.

And today, you found that courage. Flicking your gaze up to him and holding his stare, a slow smile unfurled from one corner of your mouth to the other, shocked to see it mirrored in Carmy's face.

"Have you ever tried it before?"

"No, never."

"You'll have to let me know how you like it."

"Oh?"

"Roasted is usually a pretty safe option," he continued, picking up some sage and handing it to you, "but turning it into a soup with some crispy sage on top is better."

You glanced down at how easily Carmy placed the herb in your palm, smiling to yourself before nodding. "So you like to cook?"

"Uh," he chuckled, knuckles lifting to graze his mouth again as if he wanted to hide that smile, the indent on his cheek peeking out from behind his wrist, "something like that, yeah."

"A chef?"

"I, uh, yeah. I cook. I'm a chef. Of sorts."

"Of sorts."

"I used to— um. Used to cook fancy things, now I cook other things."

"Right," you drawled, and although your brows were bunched together, amusement lined every other inch of your features, "so, used to cook in your basement and now you cook…?"

"In a kitchen."

"Real food this time, though."

"Mostly edible."

A loud laugh escaped you, almost embarrassingly so. The banter between you two was quick, easy, fun even as you caught the way his chin dipped into his chest on a wider smile. His dimple was very much showing itself now and you were glad that your hands were full because they itched to touch him.

And that would be absolutely no fucking good, would it?

You barely knew Carmy — Carmen. He was just your neighbour, nothing else.

As your laughter dwindled down to nothing but soft smiles, the vendor came around to greet you. In his hand were some of the other fruits and veg you normally liked to keep, a handful of fresh lemons in a basket and extra radishes and red onion.

"D'you—?"

"Do I?"

"Come here often?"

"I mean, as often as I can given it only happens once a week." You teased.

Carmy redirected his attention to the man behind the small counter, and they did a similar exchange. Cash for produce that went right into the large bag you hadn't noticed was tucked behind his back. "Are you, uh, you gonna walk around a bit more—"

But a sharp ringtone sounded from his pocket and Carmy was already groaning, fishing for the phone and giving you an apologetic look. "Sorry, I gotta—"

"Of course."

With his back turned to you and his voice lowered, speaking in hushed tones, you moved to the side in an effort to give him his privacy. But you couldn't help your curiosity, peering over your shoulder to watch the way he tangled his hand through his hair and paced back and forth.

Who was he talking to? What was it about? Why was there a divot in his brow and why did you so badly want to soothe it with your fingers?

You shook your head in a shallow attempt to shake the thought, the thought that had no business forming in your mind. Carmy stared at his phone for a moment before he pocketed it again, turning to you with an uncertainty flashing in his eyes, like a cloud rolling through the sky. "Hey, I, uh, I gotta go, but… woulda been nice to have some company today."

"A chef's company, no less." You kept your tone light and easy, fingers wrapping around the straps of the bag you hitched higher on your shoulder.

But his tone was far less playful, laced with intention as he spoke. "Or just a person with a curious mind."

And there it was again, another moment that hung on a thin thread in the small space between you two, a ghost of a smile that made his dimple peek through the stubble on his cheek.

"See you around?" He asked quietly, his head slanted to level with your gaze.

Was there any other answer? "Yeah."

"Okay." Carmy nodded, wiping his fingers over his mouth before giving a nod to the vendor and turning back to you. "Okay."

"Okay."

A few seconds passed where you thought maybe the rest of the world stopped. Just the endless swirls of the blue in his eyes, like the sky meeting the sea and each blink, a tide calling to you. A few seconds, a few blinks, before Carmy was nodding and walking past you, throwing you a tiny smile over his shoulder that you would've missed if you hadn't been staring so blatantly at him.

Carmen Berzatto, your next door neighbour that was clearly reeling you in whether he knew it or not. And for fuck's sake, you should really get a grip sooner rather than later, scolding yourself silently as you belatedly realized you'd been ogling him as he left.

When you went home less than an hour later, your elderly neighbour gave you the fresh bread and asked you what she was supposed to do with the purple cauliflower you handed to her. "Heard it was best roasted," you shrugged, but hung onto the vegetable, "do you want me to make you something with it instead?" This thrilled her, clear in the wide grin crossing her face as she shoved the bundle back into your bag, letting you know how excited she was and thanking you.

"Thank Carmy." You said without thinking.

And almost too quickly, she smirked. "Oh, why am I not surprised?"

[thebearer]

i'll make you so sure about it |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: a run in with "claire-bear" leaves you bristled with jealousy. carmen assures you there's no need to be.

contains: minors dni 18+. mean-ish reader (she's jealous), dom/sub dynamics, dom!carmen, kinda brat tamer!carmen too, language, mentions to past relationships, fingering (fem rec), p in v sex, aftercare.

“What else is on the list?” Carmen pushed the cart through the aisles of the grocery store, tossing the figs into the basket. 

“Black garlic.” You marked through the scratchy handwriting that belonged to Carmen, pen tapping on the small notepad. “Never heard of black garlic.” 

“Really?” Carmen hummed in amusement, a tiny smile that was soft but warm- just for you. “You’ve had it before.” 

“Have I?” You lifted a brow. “You’ve been sneaking things in my food, hm?” 

“Tryna expand your palette, babe.” Carmen scoffed, pulling you in by your waist into him. 

You laughed, looking down at your list, squirming when his fingers ghosted over your sides. “Oh, shoot, I forgot we need detergent.” You hiss, looking at the bottle of Tide in the cart beside you. “I’m gonna go grab that, and you get the rest on the list?” 

Carmen nodded, taking the pad and pen out of your hand. “I got it. I’ll be over here, alright?” He nods towards the produce. 

You head in the opposite direction, spilling off in the frozen aisles to head back towards the cleaning section, snatching the detergent off the shelf. You’d have to run by the little apothecary shop down on Main to get more of the scent boosters you liked- that Carmen liked. He liked how your sheets always smelled when you first started dating, soft and clean and sweet somehow? Fuck, he wasn’t even sure how, but when you moved in with him, that smell lingered into his clothes, his sheet. He’d catch whiffs during the day at work, a calming breeze that grounded him, kept his mind rushing back to you. 

You scanned the produce section, finding the familiar head of curls tucked under a Bears hat. You had bought him that hat, a little playful joke since some customers were always asking if the restaurant was named after the team. It infuriated Carmen, annoyed him to no end, but the hat? He rolled his eyes, muttering something about you being “real funny” in a sarcastic tone, but he wore it anyway. It was a nice hat, what can he say?

Carmen was on the end, a grip on his basket that had you a little suspect, until you saw the other basket, parked next to his, a girl leaning towards Carmen. Your heart dropped, a spike of jealousy, hot and blinding shooting through your spine. 

“...You know I meant to stop by the restaurant last week, but I was so busy with rounds. You were closed by the time I got off.” The girl bragged, loud enough so the ones around her would be impressed. You wanted to scoff, did she not know this was Chicago? 

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You could hear the edge in Carmen’s voice, and not the usual one that accompanied with unprompted social interaction. This was one harder, a strain that had you suspicious at the defensiveness. 

“Hey, Carmy,” You muttered, stepping beside him. He jumped when you did, eyes wide and scared like he’d been caught. “I got the detergent.” You placed it in the basket, trying to avoid the eyes of the girl in front of you. 

“Oh, uh, that’s great. Thank you.” Carmen’s hand found your waist easily, but you didn’t miss the way his hand rubbed on his jeans first, wiping the sweat off. 

“Hi,” The girl said, a tight lipped, forced smile that you knew all too well. “I’m Claire.” 

You gave it back, a snarl and cutting eyes, letting your name slide through your clenched teeth- a threat. “Yeah, uh, Claire and I…we, uh, used to go to school together.” Carmen stuttered.           

“Really? That’s it, Bear?” Claire laughed. Your spine straightened, the primal urge to ram your cart into hers so it sent the handle flying into her stomach because she used your nickname- maybe she’d break a rib. 

Your eyes cut to Carmen’s, lips rolling into a pursed pucker. Carmen flushed, red cheeks that spread to his ears, down to his neck. “Well, I mean, Claire’s real close with my family too.” Carmen offered, looking down at you, his heart dropping when he did. Fuck, you were pissed. 

“Richie and Mikey used to call me Claire Bear all the time.” She laughed, a forced, mean girl-esque laugh. “Used to tease Carmy for always drawing me.” 

“Oh?” You quipped, turning to Carmen with narrowed eyes. “Well, that’s funny. You must’ve been really close to get the Bear nickname too.” You hummed, an edge to your voice that had Carmen’s stomach dropping. He felt like he was going to be sick, under your gaze, hard eyes that questioned and challenged him. 

“Oh, yeah, we were always really close, weren’t we, Carmen?” Claire batted her eyes at him, and for a moment, you had to grip the basket. Stop yourself from slamming her head into the fridge. 

Carmen looked like he might pass out, palms rubbing against his jeans, eyes bouncing from you to her. “Y’know we should catch up sometime, Carmy. I’d love to see Sugar and Richie.” 

“Yeah, I-I’m not sure what they’re-” 

“-You know what.” You snipped, teeth ground tight. “I think I’ll finish shopping, and you two can catch up, alright?” You snatch the list out of Carmen’s hand. “It was so nice to meet you, Claire.” 

Carmen can feel your anger even after you stomp away, whizzing into the next aisle, slinging the basket with so much fury the detergent slides and he cringes as he thinks about the plums that probably got crushed. 

“Uh-oh,” Claire snickers. “Looks like I got you in trouble.” 

“Yeah- I mean, no, she’s just… We have plans later, so I gotta go. Tell your family I said hello.” Carmen nods, barely hearing her reply before he’s chasing you down the aisles. 

“Baby, hey, c’mon-” 

“Don’t.” You hissed, shoving Carmen’s hand off you. “Go back and talk to Claire Bear.” You snarled, voice rising in pitch to mock the name. 

“Don’t do this.” Carmen’s stomach turned, twisting with that familiar twinge of anxiety. His eyes were already darting towards the far end of the store, feeling like he needed to get a bottle of Pepto… maybe two. 

“Do what?” You snapped, huffing at him. “Honestly, Carmen, how would you feel if I ran into one of my old exes and they were talkin’ to me like that, huh?” 

“She’s not an ex-” 

“-Oh? She isn’t?” You deadpanned, glaring at Carmen. He faltered, eyes darting from your gaze just for a moment. “You’re such a fucking liar, Carmen, I’m not stupid.” You huffed, shoving the cart. 

“Hey,” Carmen snapped, heavy hand landing on the cart’s handle to stop it. “Cut it out, alright?” 

That only made you bristle even more, bouts of fury that spiked through your body. You wanted to scream, cause a scene and storm out, leaving him mortified and standing there with everyone staring at him. A few years ago, you would have. 

Instead, you slammed the rest of the list into the seat of the cart. “Give me the keys.” You huffed. 

“What? You can’t-” 

“-I’m going to sit in the fucking car, Carmen. Give me the fucking keys.” You growl, louder this time, turning the head of a passerby. 

Carmen flushed, furiously, shaking hands fishing his keys out of his pocket, dropping them in your hand. “D-Do you need anything else not on the list?” He asked softly, a hope that you might soften at his tone. 

You didn’t reply, turning on your heel instead, stomping out of the sliding doors. Carmen felt his stomach turn, lurching in his throat, heart hammering so hard sweat was forming at his hairline under the hat. He definitely needed that Pepto now. 

“She’s just a friend! A childhood friend, that-that I don’t even talk to!” Carmen huffed, his voice rising. You had been on him, furious and accusing from the moment he got in the car, all the way home, carrying the groceries up the steps of the apartment. 

“That you fucked!” Your voice shrilled loud enough Carmen flinched, knowing the neighbors would hear. “You fucked her!” 

“I-I… like one time!” Carmen stuttered, throwing his hands out in exasperation. He set the detergent with a heavy thud on the counter, glaring at it. It was the detergent’s fucking fault this happend, Carmen thought. He should have just gone with you or gotten the detergent instead- fuck, why did he have to run into Claire out of all people. 

“I knew it!” You smacked your hand against the cabinet. “I fuckin’ knew it! God, you are such a liar, Carmen!” 

“How did I lie? How? Hey, get back here, I’m talkin’ to you!” Carmen had reached his breaking point, beyond irritated and frustrated. 

“Fuck you, Carmen. Just a friend, my fuckin’ ass.” You growled, pushing the door to your bedroom open so quickly it hit the wall, the door stopper buzzing angrily. 

“Can you- Can you just listen to me, please?” Carmen took a grounding breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with clammy, uncomfortable hands. 

“Listen to you what? Listen to you tell me how you’ve known Claire Bear your whole life? And how the two of you have sooo much history together?” You sneer, teeth baring in a sort of growl that made Carmen’s heart spike with anger…maybe fear… maybe both?

“We don’t have… Baby, I-I really don’t fuckin’ know what you want from me here, alright? I don’t like Claire.” Carmen huffed. 

“Anymore.” You muttered, bitterly. 

“Yeah, anymore. I don’t- wait.” Carmen held up his hand, realization washing over him. “Wait a fuckin’ second. Are you- Are you jealous right now?” 

“Shut up, Carmen-” 

“-Oh my God! Holy shit! You’re jealous?” His tone was far too light, nearly mocking, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Why the fuck are you jealous?” 

“Oh, fuck you, Carmen! Like you wouldn’t be jealous if my ex was all over me like that in front of you!” You countered bitterly, satisfied at the way his jaw flexed at the thought. 

“Yeah, but your ex doesn’t have you, I do.” Carmen said, an edge in his voice that had ice shooting down your spine, a tingle spreading between your legs. He took a step forward, so close to you, his eyes were piercing into you, cutting right through your soul. “And Claire or-or anyone else doesn't have me, alright? You fuckin’ got me.” 

You tried to stay strong, keep your facade up for a little longer, not let him know how your knees were buckling under his stare. “Still, Carm,” Your voice was softer now, on the edge of a whine. “‘S not fair you let her talk to you like that in front of me.” 

“What did you want me to do?” Carmen scoffed, his hand finding your hip. “She only talked like that because she knew I was with you. Wanted to get under your skin, and you fuckin’ let her.” 

“I did not-” 

“Oh?” Carmen’s tone lilted, leaving you blushing furiously under his challenging gaze. “That’s why you threw a whole goddam fit? Fuckin’ leavin’ the store? Bitchin’ me out the whole way home?” 

You pouted, huffing at the meanness in his tone. Carmen’s hand caught your jaw, pulling your gaze back to him. “You acted bad, and for what? I don’t want her. I don’t want anyone but you, you know that.” Your cheeks burned with heat, hoping he couldn’t see how flustered he was making you, scolding you like this. Oh, you were fucking throbbing. 

“Even when you’re mean to me like that. You know I only want you. Don’t insult me like that, thinkin’ I’d ever want someone else, you got me?” Carmen snapped. 

“Yes, Carmen.” You muttered, eyes rolling to the floor. 

“Who?” Carmen growled, jerking your chin back to him. 

You blushed, thighs rubbing together. You knew what he wanted, what was coming. “Yes, Daddy.” You muttered, pitch rising in your tone to that light airy voice you used when you played, reserved just for him. 

Carmen hummed satisfied, letting his hand slide down your jaw, fingers curling and tilting your chin upwards towards him. “Why would you think I wanted anyone else, hm?” Carmen rasped, lips brushing over yours but not giving into you yet- teasing you. His free hand slid down your waist, slowly, pinky toying with the edge of your leggings. “You know you’re it for me. Don’t you?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” You hummed, his hand sneaking under the stretchy elastic of your pants, sliding closer and closer to where you needed him most. 

Carmen’s lips slid over your soft skin, finally pressing to the corner of your mouth. His fingers cupping your mound, sliding over your clothed slit teasingly. “Think I need to remind you, hm? D’you forget? That’s it?” Carmen rasped, pointer finger pressing against the cotton of your panties, circling over your clit. 

You gasped, clawing at his shoulders, his lips trailing down your jaw, free hand moving to hold you by the back of your neck, keeping you still while you squirmed against his touch. “Think I need to remind you, baby.” Carmen growled, the vibrations from his voice muffled on your skin, sending shockwaves to your core. “That what I need t’do, huh?” 

“Yes.” You whined, nasally and desperate, abdomen already clenching at the way he was working your clit. “Please.” You begged. 

“Please, what? Huh? Who’re you talkin’ to?” Carmen hummed, teeth grazing over the sensitive spot on your neck that had you lurching, knees buckling at the combined sensations. 

“Please, Daddy.” You panted, eyes rolling back when he licked over your neck, fingers pressing harder, rubbing tighter circles around your clit. 

You could feel how hard Carmen was, bulge rubbing against your hip, trying to satisfy his own throbbing. Your nails sunk into his skin, sure you’d leave marks, but you were sure he wouldn’t care. “You want me to take care of you? Want me to show you?” Carmen asked, so sweetly it made you gush, clenching around nothing, desperate for him to fill you up. 

“Yes, please, Daddy. Please.” You shuddered, a strangled breathy moan falling past your lips. “I need it so bad, please.” 

Carmen’s pace picked up furiously, a groan leaving his lips when he sucked at your sensitive skin there, hand tightening around the back of your neck to keep you in place. You could feel your legs shake, Carmen’s pace steadying and keeping tight circles around your clit, sending you reeling and jerking with every graze of his tongue, clinging to him while you fell apart- too easily. He did this to you too easily, knew you too well so he could. 

Carmen’s hand pulled out of your pants, your panties soaked with your own slick, some coating his fingers where you leaked through the fabric. Carmen let them pass in front of you, eyes locked to yours when he slipped them in his mouth, your breath hitching when he cleaned your release off his fingers. 

“Out of your fuckin’ mind if you think I want anyone else.” Carmen’s eyes darkened, holding your gaze in a menacing way. “Nobody tastes fuckin’ better than you, are you crazy? Thinkin’ I’d want someone else.” Carmen scoffed, leaving you shuddering, still reeling from your own high. 

“Take those clothes off and get on the bed. I’ll show you who you belong to. Who I belong to.” Carmen’s head jerked towards the bed. 

You scrambled towards it, shoving off your legging and peeling off clothes, tossing them into the corner of the room. You were slick, still pulsing from moments before, lying back on the edge of the bed with parted legs. The sick click of your own wetness filling the room when you spread yourself- oh, Carmen was sure he was going to pass out, looking at you spread and wet and waiting for him. All for him. If it wasn’t for the near painful throbbing of his cock, he would have devoured you, made you cum over and over and over on his tongue until his mouth was drenched with you, your scent filling his nose. Another time, he decided, pumping himself a few times. 

“You know, you really piss me off sayin’ shit like that.” Carmen huffed, pushing his hair back with his hand, inked fingers running through those blonde curls that were your weakness.

You look at him, feeling the fat head of his cock rubbing through your folds, teasing you already. “Actin’ like I’d ever want somebody else. Gettin’ jealous and for what, huh? Just actin’ out.” Carmen leaned down, folding his body so it was over yours, his face inches from your own. “You know you’re the only one for me. Only one I’d ever want.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to reply, pushing in deeply in one swift movement, filling you entirely with his length. You gasped, clawing at his shoulder blades until he was flush against you, your breath stammering, eyes rolling back at the stretch. 

Carmen waited, feeling you relax around him until he moved, a hard snap of his hips, unforgiving and painfully slow, rolling into you. You whined, a high pitched gasp, Carmen’s lips pressing to your wrist gently. He let his hips roll, getting into a steady, hard pace that left you drooling, eyes rolling back at each calculated jab to the sweet spot inside of you. The way you were clenching, Carmen knew he wasn’t going to last long. 

“Thinkin’ I’d want somebody else,” Carmen scoffed between gritted teeth, swallowing back the groan in the back of his throat at the way your pussy was strangling him right now. “I told you a million- shit- a million times before, baby. You’re it for me. You got that?” 

“Y-Yes, Carmy.” You shuddered, eyes already glossing over, mind numbing and reeling all at once. Your legs were shaking, burning already with another build up of pleasure. Carmen’s hips snapped, leaving you crying out, your own moans bouncing off the walls. 

Carmen chose not to correct you, muscles tightening in his legs and abs, trying to keep himself from spilling too soon. He knew you were close, could see it in your eyes, the rounding of your mouth. Leaning down, Carmen buried himself back into your neck, pushed into your skin. His own soft whines muffled against you, leaving you soaring with adoration, swimming in pleasure. 

“I don’t want anyone else but you.” Carmen admitted, hidden in the slick skin of your neck, a much softer admission than anything before. It was sincere, leaving you burning with heat, shaking as the tight coil in your tummy unraveled. 

Carmen felt you gush over him, wetting the hair at the base of his pelvis, before he pushed himself back up, pounding hard and deep inside of you to finish himself off. Hot breath hitting your neck, tiny whines and groans of pleasure buzzing in your ear before he finished, spilling inside of you with long, slow strokes. 

Carmen collapsed on top of you, his own mind racing and cloudy, chest heaving against yours. You sighed, welcoming the weight of him on top of you. It was heavy, a little crushing, but safe in a way. It was him, smothering you in the best way. 

He rolled off, a few huffs before he was beside you, feeling his release run out of you. You didn’t even care, you had the detergent- you’d clean the sheets. 

“You know I don’t like her.” Carmen muttered, still staring at the ceiling. You turned to look at him, silent but questioning. “Claire, or-or anyone, right?” Carmen’s eyes were rounded, filled with a familiar guilt that told you his mind was racing again. 

“I only like- I only love you.” Carmen corrected, lips pressing together, jaw flexing with emotion. “I-I don’t know why she did that, but… Like, you’re it for me. You know that? I don’t care about any of that other shit with Claire or-or anyone, because I just want you.” 

It was raw, a little hushed like he was scared to admit it, to say it too loud and scare you off- scare himself. But you did know it. Even through your blind, jealous rage, you knew it. You knew Carmen only cared for you, only loved you. And you felt the same way about him. 

“I know.” You nodded, reaching out to grab his hand, curling your fingers around the calloused fingers, bringing them to your lips. You kissed the inked ‘O’ on his middle finger, letting your nose nuzzle the skin. 

“I’m sorry I got jealous.” You muttered, leaning into his hand, hoping it would hide your flushed, embarrassed cheeks. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t like how she was trying it with you. Trying to come at what’s mine.”

Carmen grinned, the possessiveness in your voice, it made his heart skip. Knowing there was someone out there so fiercely protective of him- wanting to keep him and love him that way. It was something he never imagined having. He was glad he had it with you. 

“I know.” Carmen nodded, biting back his own grin. “You got me, though. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Carmen nodded, sliding closer to you on the duvet, letting his leg fall over your hip. 

You settled under the weight, still cradling his hand to your cheek. “Good.” You hummed. “‘M not goin’ anywhere either, Bear.” 

“You better not.” Carmen grinned, playfully but he meant it. 

You laughed, a breathy light huff, lips pressing a kiss into his thumb. “Well, except to clean the sheets.” You muttered, feeling the wetness pooling around you. “Probably need to do that.” 

“Yeah,” Carmen sighed, looking between the two of you. “I need to put the rest of the groceries away, too. Kinda got… distracted, ya know.” 

You blushed. “Sorry about that.” 

“Don’t be.” Carmen muttered, sincerity in his tone. “You-You don’t have to be sorry for that.” 

You didn’t argue, simply melting into his touch, leaning forward so his lips were on yours, body pressing your into the mattress, pinned by his kiss. You could feel the burn between your legs, the raised skin on his shoulders where you’d clawed at him- marks that he was yours, reminders that you were his.