Sorry But There's Simply Not A Malewife On The Level Of Joel Hammond From Santa Clarita Diet. His Wife

A man with a reputation; masterlist

- thomas shelby + arranged marriage!trope

1. a man with a reputation

; you cannot talk your way out of this, for the first time of your life , you're given no choice

2. an introduction

; you meet your husband to be for the first time

3. office scandal

; polly takes you with her to run an errand

4. the color green

; you've met tommy's secretary, who has a thing for him.

5. the shelby charm

; tommy demonstrates his charm on an unsuspecting girl.

6. entanglement

; your fate is now sealed

7. a perfect fit

; you and your family plan for the engagement party

8. desperate measures

;you finally take on the role of the tomm's bride-to-be.

9. different yet the same

;nothing stays the same, but how can you explain that to the people you love?

10. future mrs shelby

;the dreaded day arrives

11. my mother's daughter

; you and your mother get into a heated argument

My friend who doesn't watch WWE wanted me to send her some info about the wrestlers so I sent her these..

Hello?

Baby, No Attachment

Reluctantly, you met Steve's eyes, that stupid smirk ever present on his lips as he drank you in. If you could melt into the floor at that moment, you absolutely would have, his stare burning into you, reminding you of that cool, summer evening you first met.

"Are we going to do this or not, Harrington?"

or; the 5 times Steve Harrington was an asshole to you, with the 1 time, he revealed his true self.

cw: 18+ mdni; smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, cream pie, squirting, angst (what's new), mean!Steve, Steve talking you through it once again, slight Eddie x reader, 13.7k+ words. (+ part two) (+part three)

The boy you knew as your neighbor was quiet, yet quick in your neighborhood. Always on the go, never home, only when his parents were gone did you see him moving behind the windows of the two story Harrington home. Girls were reoccurring, a different one every week, countless times you’d seen the flash of a different bra-clad blonde or brunette in between parted curtains.

He was known as Steve, King Steve, the enigma of a man you only knew personally through rumors floating through the halls of Hawkins High. His cocky ego shining through shitty friends, the closest you would know to the truth behind the rumors.

Your first interaction with him was quick, the silhouette of his body dropping from his window as he tried sneaking out for the umpteen time that week. You heard a low groan as he landed wrong, curses escaping his lips as he found his way to his feet.

You were leaning against the vineyard covered wall of your own backyard, watching him through the cracks in the wooden fence separating your properties. A cigarette lay in between your fingers, the heat of it reaching your fingers as it continued to burn in your grasp.

“You good there, Harrington?” You asked, taking a slow drag as you saw his mop of hair pop up over the fence. A grimace was covering his face, a bruise over his nose and right eye. That’s different.

“Yeah, yeah, just perfect,” he replied, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. He barely glanced at you, running his fingers through his mane, settling it back into place. He brushed off his shoulders, muttering curses under his breath as he smoothed his clothing. You stared at him, cocking your head as you took in the sight before you.

You hummed in response, exhaling smoke as he seemed irritated in the moment. He didn’t know what to say to you nor you to him, as it was the first conversation you ever had since you’ve moved next door. It had only been a few months, but he had been the only one you heard anyone speak about.

“Aren’t you a little too young for that?” He asked you, stretching a hand over the fence as he signaled for you to hand him the pack. He seemed like a concerned father figure in this moment, irritation crossing his features even further than they did previously.

Looking down at the box between your fingers, you shrugged, feeling the cool, summer wind hit your body. The sun was setting, the golden rays casting a halo around his perfectly set hair.

You crossed the small distance between houses, pressing your frame to the fence as you held eye contact. You saw his throat bob, gulp barely audible as you centered your ground. Placing a cigarette between his outstretched finger tips, you smiled at him.

“Never too young for a little fun, Harrington,” you muttered, tracing your eye line over the fresh bruises. The cigarette gets placed between his lips, damp red meeting the yellow toned paper.

Steve rolled his eyes at you, patting down his pockets as he searched for something.

“Light?” You questioned, waving your own cigarette in the air around you. His eyes followed the movement, another sigh escaping from him.

“Yeah, come on, sweetheart,” he mumbled, craning his neck over the fence as he awaited your next move.

Smirking, you leaned forward, pressing the burning end of yours to his unlit. Faces inches away from each other, he took a few quick breaths, his cigarette slowly being lit from your own as he guided his eyes over your features.

His deep brown eyes bore into your own, a dark bruise beginning to set right on the bone. Strange enough, he seemed pretty with it, the contrast of colors and tones bringing out flecks of amber hidden in the iris.

Pulling away, he took a deep breath, smoke filling his lungs as he draped his arms over the wooden boards.

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Steve said, fingers tapping out ash. You watched as it floated in the wind, slowly walking backwards until your back hit the brick wall you previously stood against.

“Can’t stop seeing you,” you replied, squinting as you gestured up to the second story of his house. He followed your point, noticing how his bedroom window was directly across from your own. A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You’ve been stalking me, princess?” He asked, tongue darting out to run across his exposed teeth. You flushed in your face.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now,” he continued, parting his lips to take another puff of the tobacco. Grumbling, you hid the smile that was threatening to burst out at his flirtatious behavior.

You snubbed your cigarette out, Mary Jane pressing into the concrete as a small billow of tobacco smoke pooled around the leather.

“I’m just making conversation, Harrington. We are neighbors after all.”

He nodded, eyes trained on you as they roamed over the length of your body. Only suddenly now did you feel self conscious over the short plaid skirt you wore.

“Say,” he began, lip briefly being sucked in between his teeth. “Let’s just bypass all that, and you could get to know me more as a … friend. A close friend.”

Closing your eyes, you laughed aloud as your head hit the brick behind you. The rumors of this Steve were materializing right in front of you. You opened them, only to be met with Steve’s gaze, smirk on his lips and cigarette pressed against his bottom lip as he slightly covered his face.

“Is that what you’re gonna call it?”

Two could play at this game, you figured.

“9 pm? I know a real nice spot by the lake,” he winked, making an ‘okay’ gesture with his thumb and forefinger. “Ladies love it, or so I’ve heard.”

“Or so I’ve heard,” you mocked him, laughter bubbling out of you. He followed your laughter, chuckling low as the breeze picked up around you.

“I could show you a real nice time, sweethe-”

“Steven!”

His head suddenly turned towards his open window, a woman’s voice calling out to him from somewhere deep in the house. It sounded like Mrs. Harrington’s voice, the memory of it from moving day when your parents forced you to bring over that homemade cherry pie. The smirk dropped from his face as he took a quick hit from the cigarette before flicking it somewhere behind him.

“Gotta go, princess,” he ushered, running a hand over his hair. He backed away from the fence, turning to duck on the side of his house.

He made it a few steps before quickly returning to his previous spot.

“Don’t wait up,” he called out, causing your smile to falter slightly. You covered it up, hoping to go unnoticed by him. “I might be a while before coming back, so don’t get your hopes up, princess.”

And with that, Steve Harrington was gone. The only evidence that he had even been there were the sounds of his footsteps crunching the gravel and the faint start of his BMW in the distance.

It shouldn’t have hurt you as much as it did when you didn’t hear from him that night. 9 pm came, then 10, then 11, next thing you knew, it was past 1 am with your window cracked open. You didn’t know what you were waiting for, a rock thrown at the glass or a whisper from below or for him to even burst through the bedroom door, anything to signal that he was to be true in his words.

He had told you after all to not wait up for him, to not get your hopes up, so it wasn’t his fault that you were feeling the way you did.

It definitely shouldn’t have hurt that much when you woke up in the middle of the night, still in your clothes (that you definitely did not pick out for him), to the sounds of a girl giggling. You squinted at your alarm clock, noticing it was nearly 3 am, the only light filling the room from the moon shining in the sky.

You crept to your window, straining your eyes in the darkness to see Steve and another random blonde making out with a fever as his hands snuck beneath her top. Her back was turned to you as his mouth licked into her, only separating to pull her top over her head before pressing his mouth to her neck.

As his teeth grazed a spot on her skin, his eyes fluttered open, making eye contact with you. They seemed to light up, an upward quirk of his mouth.

You pulled your curtains shut, heart beating rapidly as you realized he had completely seen you watching him. His stalker joke earlier ran through your mind, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

Fuck you, Harrington.

A few weeks had passed before your next interaction with Harrington boy, the summer hours ticking by slowly as you searched what to fill your days with. People watching in downtown became tiresome, the same groups of people making their errands around the same hours. The town was so mundane to you, atypical families with their 2-3 kids, the most action that had happened was a 12 year old stealing from the Mini-Mart on 3rd.

You refused to acquaint yourself with the people in town, finding the same interests in them something you would never have in common. That is, until Eddie Munson came around. Town freak, ostracized by many, quirky, over dramatic, seemed like a theatre kid despite never stepping on stage a day in his life.

He did his thing, sold whatever to whoever, while you sat in his van and looked pretty, listening to the rock music he was so drawn to. You didn't have much in common, but you really didn't need to. What brought you two together was the fact that Hawkins did not really accept either of you. You were still the new girl who had transferred at the end of junior year, and he was the super senior, one that did not seem like he was leaving Hawkins High anytime soon.

You sat in the front seat of his van, feet up on the dash, hands resting up by your head as you reclined low in the seat. He drove recklessly, barely paying attention to the road as his fist came up to bang at the stereo, music skipping periodically.

"Come on, man," Eddie muttered, cursing low under his breath.

You laughed at him, shaking your head at his antics, a thing you had gotten used to during the last few weeks. Trees flew past you as he made his way down winding roads, blurs of greens and yellows barely visible. The roads grew familiar, the route he normally would take when he was bringing you home at 4 am.

Squinting, you sat up in your seat, bringing your feet off of the dash.

"Where are you going, Munson?" A familiar building past you, next thing you knew, he was pulling up on your street. He flashed a wicked grin your direction as he threw the van in park, your house in the near, yet far distance. "I'm serious, Eddie."

"I'm making a special delivery," he winked at you, eyes wide as he reached towards his black aluminum tin. Glancing out of the window, you searched for any sort of noise, normally used to the 'special deliveries' being towards parties.

"Here?"

He gave you a 'mhm' in response, hoping out of the van as he made his way towards your house. You sat in shock, mouth dropped open in confusion as he swiveled around, waving his arms at you as you sat frozen.

"You coming or not, Yn?" He shouted, causing you to scramble out and shush him. Whether or not you were ostracized by the town or not, you had a profile to keep up. Rumors of hanging out with him were one thing, but being seen on one of his deals was another.

You jogged to catch up to him, arms crossing over your chest. Glancing down at your outfit, you realized what an odd pair the two of you made. Eddie, in his black ripped jeans, leather jacket and jean vest. You, in your mini skirt, maroon colored Mary Janes over socked feet, and cream sweater, cut off right below your elbows.

"I swear if you're delivering to my little brother, Eddie, I will kill you," you muttered, shaking your head as you struggled to keep up with his long legs. He cackled at you, shaking his head as the two of you continued on the trek to the house.

Your porch light was on, mirroring Steve's house next to it. There was no way your brother was that bold with your parents car in the driveway.

"Try again, Skipper," Eddie mocked you, finding humour in the way you often had to practically skip to keep up with him. You continued following him, jaw dropping as he walked over the Harrington lawn, converse scuffing over the tiled walkway.

"Oh, there's no way, Munson," you protested, shaking your head vehemently as his hand rose to knock at the door. He furrowed his brow at you, stopping his hand in his tracks as he stared, confused at your apprehension. You dropped your voice to a whisper. "I'm not going in there!"

"What's the big deal?" He dropped his voice to match your volume, glancing around him as if he was expecting someone to be eavesdropping.

"I just- I can't do it," you muttered, stepping closer towards him. Your voice was barely audible at this point, "Steve's in there."

His mouth was parted as his features were drawn up. His fist was inches away from the door about to knock, and pure confusion was written all over him.

"What?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes, "I said, Steve's in there." A red flush covered your cheeks as you dropped your gaze.

"And why are you being weird about it?" He asked, knuckles rapping at the door quickly as you yelped. Before you could make a run for it, the double doors swung open, the devil himself making an appearance. You turned around quickly, turning your back to him before he could meet your eyes.

"Munson." You heard Steve greet him, Eddie humming in response as you felt like disappearing. "Oh, hey there, princess."

"Princess?" Both you and Eddie spoke at the same time, nerves present in your voice and disgust in his. You turned around on your heel, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as Eddie glanced in between the two of you.

Reluctantly, you met Steve's eyes, that stupid smirk ever present on his lips as he drank you in. If you could melt into the floor at that moment, you absolutely would have, his stare burning into you, reminding you of that cool, summer evening you first met.

Opening your mouth to reply, you couldn't help, but immediately close it, losing all words to say. You noticed how his bruises had healed, revealing perfect skin and those big, brown eyes.

"Are we going to do this or not, Harrington?" Eddie's patience had run thin, voice irritated as he shook the tin in his hands. The contents made a loud noise, breaking up the tension in the air between the two of you. Steve rolled his eyes, cutting his gaze to the long haired teenager.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Munson," he muttered, stepping aside to let the two of you in. Following Eddie, you walked in, high on his heels. Hearing the giant door shut behind you, you took a look at the house, it being much bigger than your own upon entry. You and Eddie followed Steve as he made his way into the living room, a small group of teenagers you recognized sitting in various spots around the room.

"Party's here!" Steve joked, urging a crowd of cheers from them. As Eddie went to make his deals with the other teenagers, you found yourself standing in the corner of the room, hands clasped in front of you as you were unsure of what to do.

That was the difference between you and Eddie, while you were both awkward and quiet, Eddie had a way of being himself through and through. He could blend into any social situation, his loudness faking confidence that allowed people to either love or hate him. You preferred silence and politeness, normally standing in the background of your parents in their social gatherings.

"Didn't take you for a drug dealer, sweetheart," you heard Steve's voice behind you, causing you to jump where you stood, heart racing in surprise. He laughed, hand coming up to rest at your shoulder. "No need to be nervous, 's just me."

You glanced down at his hand, noticing the way it fell to his side the second your gaze landed upon it.

"I'm not," you answered, taking a small step back as this man was so deep in your personal space. "I'm just friends with Eddie."

"Hmm," a thick hand came up to scratch at his chin, and you couldn't help, but watch it as his fingers stretched out. A watch covered his wrist, the metal stretching over skin as a few loose hairs poked out from beneath his sweater. "Never knew the freak's first name."

Rolling your eyes, you turned towards Eddie, watching as he sat there flirting with a blonde girl. She was recognized as a cheerleader, her high ponytail swinging as she cocked her head, laughing at one of his jokes.

"Yeah, well, his name's Eddie, so..."

You didn't know what to say to this man, your last conversation flowing through your recent memory. His empty promise of hanging out with you that day sat in the forefront of your mind, that day being when you swore off the thought of entertaining the idea of him. Thinking of the memory had your fingers itching, the need for nicotine having your mouth water as your nerves got the best of you.

"We could have a smoke in the meantime, while he, uh," Steve seemed to read your mind, glancing over at Eddie continuing to make his deal. He was making a fool of himself, trying to impress that blonde. It seemed to be working as she giggled, tucking a strand of her bang behind her ear. "He, uh, finishes up."

"I've been trying to quit," you said, shutting down the flirtatious tone in his words. Steve quirked an eyebrow at you, smug look on his face.

"I see you smoke every night, sweetheart," his voice was low as he took a step towards you. You couldn't maintain eye contact, pursing your lips to stop the smile forming.

"You've been stalking me, Harrington?" You shot his own joke back at him, noticing the way his eyebrows shot up at you, recognizing the line. He laughed, shaking his head as he held up a finger at you, shaking it side-to-side in a 'No'.

"Nuh uh, sweetheart," laughter evident in his voice. "But I could, if that's what you're into."

You giggled out loud this time, hand coming up to cover your mouth. Your elbow rested at a hand that covered your chest, toe digging into the ground below you as you felt his eyes graze over you.

"Come on," he said, grabbing your hand as he began to lead you towards the sliding glass doors that led to his backyard. A red head girl made a low whistle towards the two of you, causing Steve to lightly smack her on the side of the head as he passed her. "Shut it, Carol."

The air was cold as the two of you stepped outside, summer breeze gently flowing through the layers of your clothes. You breathed into your hands, rubbing them together in hope that warmth met you. He led you towards that same side of the house where you first met, the memories from that first evening flooding back even more as your bedroom windows sat above the two of you.

Steve pulled a near empty carton of cigarettes out of his back pocket, opening it to pull one out. Placing it to his lips, he lit it, taking a deep inhale as the tobacco hit his lungs. His shoulders dragged in relief, as he exhaled, smoke swirling in the air around him.

"So, where've you been, princess?" Steve questioned, passing the cigarette to you as you looked around the backyard. It was much bigger than what you could see from your bedroom window.

"I could ask the same for you, Harrington. I've been around," you looked towards your bedroom window, the light still being on, just as you left it, and the window ajar as your curtains were slowly drifting out into the wind.

"Oh, you know, here, there," he wiggled his eyebrows at you, stepping closer to you as he welcomed the cigarette out of your hands. "Why stay home, when the world is at your fingertips?"

Rolling your eyes at him, you watched as his mouth parted, allowing smoke to flood in. He watched you under hooded eyes, tongue darting out to trace over his bottom lip. Your heart skipped a beat, ringing present in your ears.

"You could make yourself sound like a real pretentious douchebag sometimes, Harrington," your tongue mimicked his own, a quick glance at his plump lips.

A slow smile came across his lips, "You're into that, though?"

You shook your head, losing all words as he stepped closer to you. His hand came to rest at the wall behind you, his broad shape towering over yours as he looked down at you. The hand with the cigarette rested under your chin, pushing your head up so your eyeline paralleled his own.

"Then why are you here, princess?"

You fluttered your eyes shut as he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours as you felt his breath over you. The soft touch of skin had your heart racing, the only thing in your senses was the scent of Steve, tobacco and cinnamon.

Parting your lips with his tongue, Steve pushed his figure into yours, mouth covering yours. He tasted sweet, like cherry cola as his tongue found its way into your mouth. Your fingers fisted at the front of his sweater, pulling him further into you.

A breathy moan escaped him as he pressed you into the wall, his leg parting yours as you leaned up on your toes to reach his mouth. You felt him flick the cigarette off somewhere to your left, his now free hand resting in your hair to bring you in closer.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, a low grunt coming from his mouth as your hand dropped to his lower abdomen, lightly rubbing at the area as you dared to press lower. His hand dropped from your hair, resting at your waist as he pushed the material of your sweater up, exposing the tiniest amount of skin.

You gasped into his mouth, as you felt his fingers brush the skin there.

"Really, Skipper?"

Eddie's voice had you jumping away from Steve, your body pressing into the brick of his house as he reluctantly took a step backward. He looked smug, thumb coming up to swipe at the wetness of his bottom lip. You brushed your hair into place, yanking down the rise of your sweater.

Steve let out a laugh, shaking his head as you hurried over towards Eddie's side. Eddie was looking at Steve in disgust, eyes squinted low as he reached up to wrap his arm around your shoulder. The cool leather of Eddie's arm contrasted the warm cashmere of Steve's sweater, you noted, it felt off.

"We gotta go," Eddie muttered, dragging you away from the side of the house. You felt like a little kid being chastised by your father, embarrassment replacing any other emotion you felt previously.

Eddie led you through the house, arm on your shoulder as Steve followed behind you two. You didn't know what to say as you avoided the curious gazes of a few teenagers in the living room. Their eyes were red with intoxication, the thick smell of marijuana filling the room.

Eddie swung open the front door, urging you out as he sighed heavily, the dramatics beginning to come.

"Eddie, don't start," you breathed, rolling your eyes as he gaped at you.

"You fucking kissed, Harrington, Yn," he flailed his arms around, aluminum tin swinging around with them. "Steve! Steve Harrington!"

"It's not that big of a deal, Eddie," you blushed, chewing on your thumb nail as he continued to shout Steve's name at you.

"Oh, but it is, princess," Eddie mocked Steve's nickname to you, rolling his eyes as he huffed at you. The front door was still wide open, if he didn't keep his voice down, you were sure he was going to hear you. "You don't know him like I do, Yn. Steve isn't--he's not that type of person."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" You rose to your defense, irritation beginning to pool in the pit of your stomach.

"Just believe me when I say it, Yn. He's just-" Eddie took a deep breath, rushing a hand through his long curly hair. He seemed to hear something that moment, ear tilting towards the open door as you stood impatient. "Just listen."

"Listen to what?"

"Listen!" He shouted to you, pointing in the direction of the house. You could hear whistles in the background, small cheers from the various teenagers in the house.

You could hear Steve's voice amongst the others.

"Finally, you got your hands on the newbie." Your heart dropped, not recognizing the voice. Meeting Eddie's eyes, his dark brown were filled with a stone cold emotion.

Steve's laugh echoed through the room, "Tommy, shut up."

"Before you know it, Tommy, all you're going to hear is 'Oh, Steve, yes, yes, yes!" the same high pitch squeal from the red head from before was mocking the tone of your own voice. Her laughter drowned out the sound of your own heart beat in your ears. "She'll cave like every other girl in this town. Remind me, Steve, how did I escape the Harrington charm?"

Eddie tugged at your shoulder, urging you to move from the scene back to the comfort of his beat down van.

"Come on, you don't need to hear the rest of it," he muttered, shaking his head as he took a few steps down the entry way. You shook your head, feet planted, hoping once more that Steve would come to your defense, even though you had no reason to believe so. He had left you hanging up on your first meeting, disappointment becoming your best friend.

"I don't even know her name. Hanging with 'The Freak' Munson, don't think it matters."

Those words from Steve were all you needed to hear before you were storming down the path, Eddie's hand loose in your own as you dragged him down the driveway. The clicking of your shoes on the pavement echoed through the air, Eddie quickly behind you as he was the one that struggled to keep up this time around.

You pulled at the door handle of the van, lips pressed in a thin line as Eddie took his time unlocking it. Swinging your body in, you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to make eye contact.

"Look, Yn," Eddie began, key hovering over the ignition. "Your house is right there, if you want to just..."

"Just go, Eddie. I don't want to be here right now."

You turned your body towards the window, ignoring the silence that filled the air. Sucking your teeth, you pressed your forehead against the cool glass, closing your eyes. This time around, you could forget about Steve, he wasn't that type of person as Eddie had put it, whatever type of person you thought he was. That much was clear.

"Mom, I look ridiculous."

You pulled at the pink dress you wore, its itchiness scratching at your neck. The billowing sleeves screaming at you as you took a glance at yourself in the reflection of the car door.

Your mom was standing next to you, adjusting her earrings as she leaned over to look at herself in the passenger side mirror. She rubbed her ring finger over her red lipstick, sucking at her teeth as she made sure her teeth were clean. She stood up to look at you, swiveling around to place her hands on your shoulders.

Giving you a once over, she hummed, pinching your cheek.

"You need just a little color in your cheeks, and you're perfect," she made a kissy face towards you, smiling in her infamous 'fake-rich' smile, as you called it. "Doesn't she look perfect, honey?"

Your dad hummed in response, locking the car as he made his way around the vehicle. "You look beautiful, darling."

Rolling your eyes, you looked down at the kitten heels on your feet.

"Why doesn't my brother have to come to these?" You complained, sighing as your mouth pulled at a few strands of hair that framed your up-do.

"He's hanging out with those kids he met at school. That young boy with the oddball mother, Joyce, I think her name is," your mother smacked at a piece of mint gum, focused on the fly aways that hung around your face. You smacked her hand away, grumbling as she titted at you. "Ah, Yn. Behave."

"I'm not 12, Mom, I don't need to show face at these events."

"I do realize this, darling. But if you ever want to make friends, how do you think it'll happen?" She turned away from you, following your father as she made her way across the pavement. You reluctantly followed in her footsteps, stiff in your movements as your feet hurt from the heels.

"I do have friends." Your face flushed a deep red.

"Uh uh, Yn. That one boy does not count, I do not want you hanging around him anymore," your mom continued, hand coming up to fluff up the back of her hair. She constantly adjusted herself, worried about the whispers of other stay at home moms and gossip mills of people her age. "Ever since I walked in on the two of you doing Lord knows what-"

"Mom!"

"You were doing what now?" Your father raised an eyebrow in your direction, your eyes avoiding his strict gaze.

Your mom ignored him, patting at his arm as she stepped in front of him, making her way up a driveway.

"We had clothes on, you're so embarrassing," you grumbled, crossing your arms as she turned to knock on a front door. She turned towards you, knocking your arms down as you rolled your eyes once again.

"Barely, darling. I don't like to think about it, it gives me premature wrinkles," she quipped, attitude dropping as the door swung open. "Mrs. Hargrove! Lovely to see you!"

You made a face, mocking her fake excitement as your parents stepped into the house. Immediately, you were met with the scent of flower scented perfume, cigarette smoke, and champagne. It was a soiree of adults around Hawkins and their teenagers they had dragged out, celebrating the middle of summer as the more unwelcoming months sat lingering in the distance.

You kept close to their sides, taking a glass of champagne in open arms as Mrs. Hargrove offered you all a few glasses. In public settings like this, you were 'allowed' to drink as long as you kept it to a few glasses.

Time passed by slowly, you introducing yourself to a few families, fake laughing at their jokes, lying to their faces about questions of college, and promising to come over their places, in which you knew you would never end up baking them that ever famous cherry pie your father raved about.

Escaping your mother’s side had you letting out a breath of fresh air, finding solace in the foyer where a tray of champagne flutes sat. A few groups of couples stood around having conversation that didn’t pay you any attention.

You felt a hand pull at your elbow, knocking you back slightly as you reached for your third glass of champagne that night. Looking at the person, you raised your eyebrow in confusion.

It was a blond with long, curly hair, a split in his eyebrow and a light dusting of facial hair over his face. His silver earring caught your eye, tucked deep in the curls that hung around his face.

"Want something a little stronger?" He questioned, flashing you a glimpse of a flask in his pocket. You looked around quickly, corners of your mouth quirking up as he wiggled his eyebrows to you.

"You're going to get us in trouble," you laughed, lowering your glass as he poured some of the contents in it. He glanced around as he poured, winking at you before putting it back in his pocket.

"From the looks of it, you like a bit of trouble," he smiled, grin wide as he showed his pearly white teeth towards you. He chewed on a piece of gum, tongue darting out every now and then. He shot out a hand towards you, waiting for your grasp. "Billy."

You took it, not breaking eye contact as it felt firm in your grasp. "Yn."

"New girl, right?"

You nodded, fighting the eye roll that came at the words. Ever since your last interaction with Steve, you couldn't stand the words to describe you. It had been nearly half a year since you came, so you figured these words would have warned off by now.

"Me too," Billy sighed, shoulders square as confidence exuded off of him. "My family just moved to this shit hole last month. You know, welcome party and all."

You hummed, agreeing with him as he described the state of the small town. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't your favorite. It was just like any other fake mid-town American city you had visited before.

Taking a sip out of your flute, you grimaced at the taste, the strong liquor overpowering the softness of the champagne. It earned a laugh from Billy, his cologne wafting off of him. The urge to find out more about this boy piquing your curiosity.

Before you could say anything, a hand came to snake around your shoulders. Snapping your head, your heart sank, that ever familiar scent of cinnamon and tobacco covering you. Steve smiled down at you, cockiness in his movements.

"Hey, princess," he kissed the air in your direction before settling his eyes on Billy. Immediately, you saw the change in demeanor, two alpha males seemingly in an attempt to intimidate one another.

"What are you doing here, Harrington?" Billy straightened up, voice low as he addressed the teen. Steve licked his lips, tightening his arm around you.

"What? Invitations cut off at the Harrington home?" Steve questioned, rolling his eyes at the blond in front of him. You pushed at Steve's side, heart fluttering at the way his grip tightened on your shoulder as you did so. His scent was overwhelming, cologne making you nearly lightheaded.

"Why don't you go fuck off elsewhere, Harrington, find someone else to bother," Billy stepped closer to the two of you, your alarm bells going off as you realized this stand off was a little more personal than you. Your eyes widened as Steve's smile dropped from his face, arm coming off of your shoulder as he stepped closer to Billy.

"Make me, Hargrove."

The two of them stood in a silent stand off, searching each other's eyes as no one dared to make a move. You stood back, admiring the view of the two men. You had to admit they were attractive, their display of dominance having you slightly blushing. Taking a sip of the strong concoction in your hands, you eyed the two men, waiting to see who would cave first.

You didn't have to wait long, your mom intercepting herself.

"Oh, Billy, sweetheart. I think your mom needs something in the kitchen," she smiled, patting at his back as he broke eye contact from Steve. The confidence that flowed off him earlier was broken, anger filling his blue eyes.

"She's not my mom," he mumbled, shoving Steve out of the way as he pushed past the two of you.

Your mom frowned, eyes trailing his path. "What an angry, handsome young man."

Steve snorted, his own gaze following the direction in which Billy made his way. Your mom reached over to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Smacking at her hand, you mouthed 'mooomm' at her, embarrassed if Steve had noticed.

"You're the young Harrington boy," your mother beamed at him, hand reaching up to brush against the single curl that hung over his forehead. Steve's height even towered over her, his head ducking down to meet her grasp. You flushed even further at that gesture, your hand coming up to rest at the heat of your forehead.

"And you must be Yn's sister, nice to finally meet you," Steve grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. Your mom was blushing at this point, the Harrington charm having its effect on her.

You rolled her eyes at the two of them, your mom swatting at his chest as he laughed politely. Tuning them out, you took another swig of your glass, fighting the grimace as Steve attempted to flirt with your mom.

He had your mom laughing, giggling like a school girl at his comments about her beauty. It was like you weren't even there, your mom forgetting she was a married woman as Steve charmed her.

"Yn!" Your attention was brought back to the conversation, your mom's voice drunk off of Steve's attention. "Why didn't you tell me you had dropped that goth boy for Steve here?"

You were confused, eyes flitting back and forth between the two. You had obviously missed a part of the conversation, key information that had you wondering. Steve brought a hand to your waist, pulling you into him. You stiffened in his arms, hand coming up to rest at his chest as you managed to keep a little distance between the two of you.

"What are you talking about?"

"Steve! He said he was taking you out tomorrow night!" Your mom gushed, clasping her hands together at her chest as she looked between the two of you. You knew she wasn't excited for his words or the fact that it was Steve, she was excited if it meant you didn't associate yourself with Eddie anymore. She never had a strong affliction for his long hair or his rock music or loud van that pulled up too late in the middle of the night.

"He is?"

"I am, princess, remember?" Steve questioned, rubbing small circles on your lower back. Your knees almost buckled under you as goosebumps stretched over your body. His eyes glanced at your mouth briefly, not going unnoticed.

"No, refresh my memory, Harrington." You shot back, irritated at the reaction your body had.

"Yn." You heard your mom's voice warn you about your tone. You ignored it, focusing on the tall boy in front of you.

"Me, you, tomorrow night. 7 pm, if it's alright, Mrs. Yln?" He briefly addressed your mom, gaze shooting to see her eager nod. Returning his eyes to you, he began to smile. "There's that new movie out that I know you've been dying to see. You couldn't tell me enough about it."

"Oh, is that right?" You kept your words short as Steve's hand dipped lower on your waist. His fingertips brushed over the top of the curve of your ass, earning a small gasp out of you.

"That's right, sweetheart," his eyes wrinkled at the corners as he smiled down at you, dragging his fingers even lower. His gaze didn't falter as he waited for a reaction out of you.

"Aren't you two the cutest. Little love birds," your mom enthused, reaching up with both hands to pinch at your cheeks. She turned on her heel, walking away from the pair of you to engage with a couple a few feet behind her.

As soon as she was lost in the crowd, you pushed Steve away from you, ignoring his laugh as you stormed towards the front door. You needed to be away from him, he was an ass, lying to your mom like that, lying to you like that. You made your way out of the door, fresh air hitting your hot, flushed face.

Letting out a choked exhale, you closed your eyes, running your hands through your hair. You ripped out the clip that held it up, shaking it out as you caught your breath. Your arousal at the earlier situation pooled in your belly, heart beating fast as you were met with conflicting emotions.

"Yn?"

Swiveling around, Steve was standing behind you, hands tucked into his pockets.

"You're such an ass, Harrington."

He shook his head, looking down at his feet as you glared at him. Continuing your words, you couldn't help, but want to hate him in the moment.

"What the hell was that? All that lovey dovey shit in there? Scaring off Billy?"

Steve's eyes shot up in your direction, face turning up at your questions.

"Billy's a real piece of work, Yn. You don't want anything to do with him," he said, dragging his eyes over your chest. You looked down, pulling up the collar of your dress as it dipped down, exposing a little too much of your breast bone. He wasn't helping his case much.

His words reminded you of your conversation with Eddie that night, his warning of the type of person Steve was.

"Like you aren't? Because I want something to do with you," you retorted sarcastically, beginning to walk towards the end of the driveway. Steve's footsteps trailed behind you, irritating you even further before you huffed and leaned against a random car. He stepped in your space, shoes almost brushing your heels as you looked up at him.

He made a quick glance in the direction of the house before leaning in, pressing his mouth to yours. His hands found your hips, hoisting you up on the hood of the car before finding his place between your hips. Moaning into the grasp, you were caught off guard.

Your mouth moved against his, hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck as you pulled him against you.

Pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Wear something pretty tomorrow, princess," he pressed a quick kiss to your mouth before pulling you completely away, making his way towards the house.

You sat there dumbstruck, cool metal of the car seeping through the material of your dress. Lips tingling, lower belly wanting more, you squeezed your eyes shut, thinking about how stupid you would be if you believed Harrington for the third time in a row.

Eddie’s voice was low on the phone as you sat in your towel, window wide open as you felt the cool air of the night makes its way in. Madonna played on the stereo in the back, her voice blending with the sound of chirping crickets.

"You sure you can't come over tonight?"

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you listened to his whine.

"No, I can't, I'm under house arrest," you complained, rolling your eyes as you flipped onto your back. The phone cord wrapped around your wrist, your free hand coming up to twirl at it.

A static-filled voice came through the phone line, you recognizing it as your moms, "No, she can't go tonight, Edward."

Heat filled your cheeks as embarrassment pooled in your chest. You pulled the phone away from your ear, covering the end.

"Mom! Get off the phone!" You screamed, hearing your mom scream something back at you from downstairs. The phone line clicked as Eddie laughed, a deep chuckle echoing through your ears.

"She really hates me, doesn't she," Eddie said through his laughter. You closed your eyes, tightening the towel around your chest.

"No," You lied, gritting your teeth. Eddie didn't need to see you to hear the blatant lack of truth in your words.

"You're such a liar, Yn. I recognize hate when I see it," he said, you could hear the eye roll in his words. You tried not to think of his words, the mention of hate being a word he was so so familiar with.

"She just doesn't like your tattoos," you said, stretching your limbs out across your bed. Your towel peaked open slightly, exposing your upper thigh. The air felt cool against your skin, urging your eyes shut as you relaxed into your sheets. "And maybe your van or your long hair-"

"Or the music or the trailer or the drugs," he continued, laughing as he heard your giggle through the line. You heard something at your window, distracting you from Eddie's continuation of his speech.

Before you knew it, a mop of hair popped up at the open window, Steve's brown eyes glancing around your room. You gasped, sitting up as you gripped onto the thin towel that covered your body.

"You okay, Yn?" Eddie's voice brought you back to the phone, your eyes focused on Steve falling through your window. He hit the ground with a thud, a low groan escaping him as the wind gets slightly knocked out of him. "Yn?"

"I gotta go, Eddie." You said, pulling the phone away from your ear. You heard his rushed, 'wait, who is that?' before you put the receiver on the hook.

Your fingers gripped your towel, squeezing your legs together as Steve rose to his feet.

"What are you doing, Steve!" Your voice was low as you heard your mother making her way up the stairs. Eyes trained on the door, Steve followed your gaze, rushing over to lock it quickly. The knob jiggled, your mother's concerned voice sounding through the door.

"Honey? What was that? Are you okay?"

Steve had his palm pressed to the wood, eyes wide as he looked at you.

"I'm fine! Just dropped my ... bag?" You said, flipping Steve off as he furrowed his brow at you. He mouthed, 'really?' in your direction.

‘Shut. Up.’ You mouthed at him, ignoring the way he looked at you incredulously.

"That Edward kid better not be in there!" Your mom yelled, doorknob jiggling again.

"Mom!" You screamed back, closing your eyes in frustration.

"I mean it, Yn!" She said before you heard her footsteps walk away from the door. Steve waited a few beats, before turning to you, hands on his hips. His eyes roamed your body, the air feeling a little too cold as you realized you were just in your towel.

"Well, well," he said, smirk toying at his lips.

"What are you doing here, Harrington?" You avoided eye contact with him, standing up to grab the closest piece of clothing you could drape over your body. You opened your closet door, blocking the view of him as you slipped the item over your body. It was a sun dress, albeit on the smaller side as you meant to return it next week.

Stepping out from behind the door, you rubbed the towel against your damp hair, cheeks flushed.

"I said 7 pm, remember?" He looked at his watch, wrist raising up as he tapped on the small screen. He pursed his lips at you, eyebrows raising as you realized it was a quarter past the time.

"I didn't think you were serious," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as your nipples began to harden in the cool breeze of the room. Steve's eyes followed, slowly dragging his eyes away to return to your face.

You sat on the edge of your bed, tightening your frame as Steve made his way to sit next to you.

"I always keep my promises, Yn," He whispered, hand coming up to rest at your thigh. You gasped as you looked at him, barely noticing the bruise forming underneath his right eye. Your thumb came up to brush against it, his hand stopping your movements just as you made contact with the skin.

"What happened?" Your voice was a low whisper as he held eye contact, a more solemn look on his face. You could recognize a specific look in his eyes, something he tried to cover up with his confidence and flirtatious advances.

"Don't worry about me, princess," he muttered, leaning into you. His scent filled your airways as his lips kissed you. His mouth was soft, making you melt on the spot as he licked into your mouth.

Moaning softly, you welcomed his touch, feeling the way his fingers tangled into your hair. His tongue ran over yours, lapping inside of your mouth as your breath became more and more heavy.

He pulled away, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. Arching your neck back, your hand came to curl up at his hair, fingers digging into his scalp, eliciting a moan out of the man.

"Steve," you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as his mouth made a trail of marks down your jugular. Each touch felt like heaven's kiss, warm breath soothing the harsh marks he made. He pulled away from you, you pouted at him, dropping your gaze to the plump, redness of his mouth.

"I think that's the first time you called me my name, princess," he whispered into the air, hand coming to cradle the back of your head. A soft smile, different from his cocky smirk, crossed his face. He looked nice like that, you figured.

Returning his mouth to yours, he pushed you down on the mattress, towering over you as he maintained his assault to your mouth. The kiss became more rushed, Steve panting into your mouth as he hovered over you, hand slowly pushing up the material further up your thigh.

His fingers danced at the crease of your groin, your legs opening wider before you could even think about it.

"So eager, princess," He muttered against your mouth, reveling in the way you moaned his name. His fingers ran up the length of your slit, his smile at the wetness he was met with. "Already?"

"Shut up, Harrington," you grumbled, rolling your eyes at him. His eyebrows raised at you, his mouth dropping open to mirror yours as he pressed a finger inside. Holding eye contact, you moaned at the feeling of him inside you, his thick digit sending shock waves through you.

"I know you love it, princess."

His words added fuel to the fire, his finger moving deep within you as he searched for that sweet spot inside of you. Not taking long to find it, your back arched up into him, a loud moan escaping you.

"Shhh," he said, leaning on his elbow to press a hand to your mouth. Your face twisted up in pleasure as he fingered you, another digit pressing at your entrance as you opened up for him.

"Don't want mommy coming up here and finding you like this," he continued his taunts, your eyes fluttering shut as his fingers hit that pleasure point over and over. Whiteness pooled through your system, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

As his fingers stretched you out, you felt him rut against your thigh, thick jean-covered bulge urging more wetness out of you. The idea of him being turned on by this was bringing you closer to the edge than his fingers were.

His thumb came up to rub at your clit, a breathy sigh against his palm escaping. Your thighs were shaking at his point, his fingers quickening as he realized how close you were.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" He questioned, smirk coming back to watch the look on your face. You nodded rapidly, mewling under his touch. Small moans came out of you, hips moving in sync with his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"Bet you want to cum on me, huh, sweetheart? Feel fucked out against my cock, baby?"

He pressed you, bringing you closer and closer with each thrust of his fingers.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, baby. Make you forget all about that Munson kid," he whispered against your ear, voice dripping with arousal as his circled your clit. Your fingers gripped at his forearm, half moon shapes forming as your nails dug in.

"Would you like that, sweetheart?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt the tension building up in your belly, warmth filling you as you came closer to your release. "You want Steve to fill you with his cock? Fuck you until you can barely remember your own name?"

You came with a shout, guttural moan coming out as his arched into his grasp. He laughed as you rode yourself through it, fingers covered in your slick as he pumped them into you the last few times. This man had done nothing to you other than finger you, but you felt like you ran a triathlon.

He sat up on the bed, removing his fingers from you as you sat there, legs open, dress pushed up to your waist. He held eye contact with you as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, tongue darting out as he sucked the digits into his mouth.

You moaned at the filthiness, not believing that Steve was as bold in bed, as he was outside of it. The smile around his lips was condescending as he watched you watch his tongue, lapping up your slick on his hand.

Glancing down his body, he was hard in his jeans, small patch of wet pooling in the front. You reached towards it, fingers just grazing the rough material as you heard a knock in the far distance.

Steve looked over towards your window, your eyes following the movement.

"Steven," His mother's voice was faint, his bedroom window wide open. "Nancy's here!"

You couldn't help but feel like you do this to yourself at this point, irritation not even something you could be bothered with feeling. Steve removed his hand from his mouth, standing up as you readjusted yourself.

"Gotta go, princess," he whispered towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth. It lingered, his hand briefly coming up to rest at your wild hair.

"Don't wait up," he winked at you, swinging his leg over your window sill. Arousal and anticipation pooled in your belly, remnants from earlier.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Harrington," You muttered, briefly wondering how much trouble you would be in if you just pushed him right off the ledge. He disappeared before you could even think of it further, the curtains fluttering as his hand disappeared out of sight.

He was going to be the death of you.

You had distanced yourself from the Harrington boy, not wanting to fall victim to his flirting again after the incident in your bedroom. Summer nights spent inside of your bedroom passed the time as your mom insisted you weren’t grounded, just not allowed to go out. You didn’t even know what you were under house arrest for, nothing significant enough happening that you would be in trouble for.

Whenever you had asked, she brushed it off, giving you some lame excuse that fell under the ‘more family time’ umbrella.

You hadn’t seen much of Steve lately, his bedroom light off and BMW missing from the driveway. You had heard rumors of him and Nancy being the IT couple around town, Eddie telling you over the phone. You insisted you didn’t care, complaining that he only told you because he wanted to rub it in that Steve “wasn’t that type of guy” even further.

Your little brother even had a life, spending his nights with the younger boys from town, you hearing him speaking on a walkie he had inherited from somewhere.

Tonight was your night to sneak out, finding yourself downtown as you passed by the local theatre.

You are searching for a store to buy your cigarettes from, the previous clerk you went to insisting that there had been a new law pushed urging 21 and over only. The lack of nicotine had you itching, mouth watering at every scent of the drug that passed you.

“Hey, new girl!” You heard a familiar voice behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Turning around, you recognized Tommy, his stupid, freckled face, smiling at you. Behind him, Carol and Steve stood, his arm around a young brunette you recognized to be known as Nancy.

You glanced up towards the night sky, wondering why you had never gotten into religion. Maybe then there would be something that would listen to you.

“New girl,” he taunted again, stepping closer to you. Only a few feet away, you could see all of the groups eyes on you, wondering where Tommy was going with his calls.

“Tommy,” you greeted him, hands shoving into your coat as you looked for an escape route. He took a step closer to you, urging you to come closer. You noticed a cigarette in his hand, your eyes flicking down to his grasp as your addiction took over any logical sense in your mind.

Taking a step towards the group, you nodded a greeting at the girls, avoiding Steve’s eye line all together. You had nothing to say to him, not even a greeting as he left you high and dry on your last interaction.

You had been successful avoided him for the rest of the summer, you definitely weren’t going to start now a week before school starts again.

“Long time no see, sweet thing,” Tommy’s nick name for you had you cringing, his annoying voice not even doing a portion of what Steve had done for you. You shook your head, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the memory. It had been almost two months since you last heard him call you that.

“I’ve been around,” you said, squaring your shoulders as you eyed the tobacco in Tommy’s fingers.

“Still hang out with that freak kid?” He asked you, slapping his fist against his palm as he questioned you. You quirked an eyebrow, wondering what he was getting at.

“What kid?” You asked, knowing exactly who he was talking about. You knew where this was going, but didn’t have the energy to play along with his game.

“Munson, the freak, devil worshiper, whatever you wanna call it.”

His laugh was loud in the air as Carol followed, giggling into her jacket as both Steve and Nancy looked uncomfortable.

“What about it, Tommy?” You sighed, wanting him to get straight to the point. His laughter came to an end, looking for Carol for confirmation before his next question.

“What do I have to do to get a little something from him?”

You raised an eyebrow, dragging your eyes over his freckled face. Nodding, a smile crossed your face.

“Oh, Eddie doesn’t swing that way. He’ll pass,” you smirked, hearing the way that Steve snorted at your comment. Glancing in his direction, you couldn’t help but notice the way Nancy held her gaze on you, unfaltered.

“No, dumbass,” Tommy rolled his eyes, snapping at Steve who immediately quieted down. “I meant weed.”

“I mean, I guess I could make a call,” you looked down at your feet, shifting your weight side to side as you debated your options. You had no obligations to this man, but you felt the need to do a favor if it meant helping out Steve in the same breath.

“Perfect, you know where Steve lives-”

“She does?” Nancy’s voice was soft as she questioned the open air. Nobody answered even though the answer of you two being neighbors was simple.

“-so just come by and drop it off when you’re done making that run.” Tommy was casual in his orders, barking them off as if he was used to running things.

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “And when do I answer you?”

“I think you’ll do it if you even want a chance of a social life next year, babe.”

His threat seemed empty to you, not intimidated by the chance of your ‘social score’ being ruined. Eddie was the first friend you made in Hawkins, it was ruined before it even happened, and everyone knew that.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in his direction, “I don’t even have a way of getting there and back.”

“I’ll take you.”

Steve’s voice caused all of you to look at him, Nancy taking a step back to look at her boyfriend. Blushing, you didn’t know how to answer.

“Go ride with them, Nance. And I’ll meet you back over there,” he coolly replied, taking a step in your direction. She opened her mouth a couple of times, seemingly embarrassed at the way she had been tossed to the side.

“Steve, w-what?” She asked, confusion written all over her features.

“I’ll be back,” he said, stepping into her as you felt uncomfortable at the interaction. He looked like he was going to kiss her for a second, only to pat a hand on her cheek before stepping in your direction.

A hand was pressed to the small of your waist as he led you to the maroon colored car. It was a few streets down, the group of teens behind you getting smaller as you watched Nancy with her pair of eyes on you. You felt guilty, even if you hadn’t done anything to her.

“You’re even a dick to your girlfriend, Harrington,” you said, as he opened the passenger door for you. You took a look at him before sliding in, tucking your feet in as the door slammed behind you. He made his way to the drivers seat, settling in as he smirked at you.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replied, key pressing into the ignition.

“You might want to tell her that,” you quipped, head turning towards the window as he took off down the street. The lights of downtown faded in the background as you made your way towards the desolate part of Hawkins.

You were confused as more and more trees appeared, the way to Eddie’s trailer becoming more and more clear.

“How do you know where he lives?”

Steve glanced at you, turning down the stereo so he could hear you better. You repeated the question, eyes trained on the trees becoming more sparse as you approached the lot.

It might have been the first time you saw Steve blush, “Oh, Nance’s litt- Nancy’s little brother’s here all the time, playing a dumb board game or something. I drive them sometimes when they don’t have a ride. Your brother’s there too, sometimes.”

You rose an eyebrow at the slip of the little nickname, humming as you turned towards the window. Trailers began to pass you, Eddie’s appearing with his van parked right out front.

“She’s so your girlfriend, Harrington,” you muttered, getting out of the car before you could hear him say anything. You didn’t want to linger on the thought that Steve had been taken by someone, a truly good girl, no matter how much you liked to pretend you were. No connection had truly been made between you, but you did enjoy that cat and mouse chase you had going.

You made your way up to the stairs, knuckles rapping at the door. Eddie appeared, confused as he stood there in a tight black t-shirt, exposing the bottom of his stomach.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, not even saying hello. His eyes squinted as he noticed the headlights of a car pointed in your direction. “Is that- is that fucking Steve?”

You grumbled, pushing him back into the trailer as you shut the door behind you. You felt Steve’s eyes on the two of you, you didn’t want him to see the interaction.

“I thought you couldn’t come out. House arrest or some other bullshit,” Eddie complained, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat down on the couch. You shrugged, eyes trained on everything else but the man in front of you. “And yet you’re here with Steve fucking Harrington.”

Eyes widening at the harshness in his words, you scratched behind your ear.

“We need weed,” you said, avoiding his statements. Eddie shushed you, finger pointing to his ear. “I didn’t even say it that loud, dimwit, I just need some.”

Eddie pursed his lips at you, staring, unmoving as you mirrored his stance. Hip cocked out, you placed a hand on your hip, tapping your toes against the floor.

“Why would I give Harrington some of my stuff?” He asked, defensive even as he stood up to make his way to his room. He was grabbing the tin anyways, making his way out back to where you stood.

“Because you love me and want good things for me,” you said, but it came out more like a question. Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbing a random baggie before shoving it in your grasp.

A smile crossing your face, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you, Munson.” He face filled with color as he glanced down at the floor.

You turned around to make your way out, Eddie’s hand darting out to grab you.

“I’m doing this for you, okay? Not Harrington, not Tommy H, not anyone else, okay?” He asked, eyes set deep into you as you nodded along to his words. The serious expression in his face made you want to cry, he had never been so stoic around you. “Whatever you’re doing, just … I warned you, okay? Please be careful.”

“Always will be,” you muttered, watching as his eyes searched yours once more before dropping to the products in his hand. He didn’t say anything else, so you took that opportunity to run out of that trailer, making your way back to the beemer that sat in front of the property.

Steve jumped as you made your way into the car, singing along to some random song of the radio. He raised an eyebrow to you, questioning if you got the stuff. You pulled it out of your pocket, showing him the large amount he had given you.

“Holy shit, Munson,” he laughed, shaking his head as he started his car. He high-tailed it out of there, car speeding over the empty streets as he made his way towards population.

The drive had you thinking, wondering what the hell you were doing in the front seat of this car. Steve’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, the rhythmic noises urging you to think of the reality of the situation.

Him and you would never work out, he was always doing something, somebody, never gave you a considerate time of the day. You were lucky if you got more than 20 minutes with the asshole.

He couldn’t be thinking of you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that he did whenever he left his bedroom window open.

“Yn?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, his hand waving in front of your face. He was pulled into his driveway, another car, one you recognized as Tommy’s, parked next to it. You heard shouting coming from the backyard, the splashing of a pool as Carols voice screamed.

“Sorry, just … thinking,” you muttered, grabbing the bag off of your lap to hand to Steve. He looked confused as you reached for your seatbelt, clicking it off of you as you reached for the door handle.

“You’re not coming in?” He asked you, voice a lot softer than you ever remember it being. Your hand stopped on the handle as you turned to face him. You weren’t sure what he was getting at.

“I can’t?” You asked, voice careful considering your next words. “Nancy’s here? And I’m sure Tommy and Carol want me dead.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head at your answer.

“They don’t hate you, and Nance is not my girlfriend,” he said, hand coming out to rest at your thigh. His thumb dipped onto the inner muscle, butterflies flowing through your stomach. “Just come in, for a little bit.”

You shook your head, noticing the way he leaned closer to you. You felt his breath against your lips, the scent of spearmint gum coming from him.

“Just a little bit,” he whispered, pressing a small kiss to your lips. You leaned into it, hand reaching across to rest on his own leg.

Parting from you, he took a small breath.

“Or we could maybe have a little fun here?” He asked, running a finger to the heat between your legs. The material of your dress was pushed up as his fingertips danced over the material of your underwear.

Your legs opened, inviting him in as he rubbed circles over your heat, watching the way your underwear became stained with your wetness. A whimper escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut as he began to massage your sex.

“What’s wrong with a little fun?” He whispered, pulling back your underwear at the waistband, just to let go, smirking at the way you jumped when it snapped at your skin. “Nancy doesn’t have to know everything.”

Your face dropped as you pushed his hand off of you, straightening your clothes as you felt a sting at the back of your eye.

“Woah, Yn,” he said, putting his hand up in surrender as you pulled your jacket over your frame, shielding the exposed skin your dress had to offer. “What happened?”

Crossing your legs, you didn’t dare look at the Harrington boy.

“Is that what this is?” You questioned, hearing Eddie’s words in your mind from earlier. Steve sputtered, confused at the sudden change in mood.

“What are you talking about?” Apprehension clear in his tone, he tried touching you again, only to be smacked away.

“Am I just a distraction for you whenever you’re bored?” You began to raise your voice, annoyance prickling at your tone. “Whenever you want something a little different from Nancy?”

Steve sighed, pinching his nose bridge as he processed your words. Silence lingered in the air for a moment, the only sounds present were the distant ones of the teenagers in the backyard.

“Did you honestly think it was anything more?”

His words had you snapping your head in his direction. You couldn’t believe his words, jaw dropping as he stared at you.

“W-what?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, Eddie’s face appearing in the back of your mind. His words were crystal clear now, the false hope of Steve Harrington tarnishing your ideals of him. You knew he was with the brunette girl, you knew he was in a relationship, you had heard it all summer. Even as he denied it earlier, you felt it inside of you that they were together.

“I’m sorry if you thought it was anything more,” he answered you, uncomfortably adjusting his hair. This would be the moment where he pretended like he had been loyal to his girlfriend the entire time. “I think I’m, like, with Nancy now.”

You rolled your eyes at him, not choosing to answer as you stormed out of the car. You slammed the door shut, crossing the lawn to your own house, not caring that you were knocking on the front door, even if you had snuck out earlier. Your mom answered, confused at you presenting yourself, when you should’ve been in your room the entire night.

“Yn? What’s going on?” She asked, glancing behind you to see if she saw anyone. If she saw Steve, half way out of his car, staring in your direction, she didn’t say anything, instead inviting you in as the tears began to come.

She didn’t say anything as you threw yourself in the house, closing the door behind you before you hugged her, letting out a tear as you buried your head in her arms. Your mom was confused, but her motherly instinct kicks in, silent as she was wrapping her arms around you as you sobbed.

You didn’t want Eddie to be right, but he had been the entire time. Admitting to being with Nancy wasn’t the worst part of it all after denying it all night, it was just how he had made you feel important even if it was for a split second. Deep down, you knew he wasn’t to be true in his words, but for the moment, you liked to pretend. He slipped into the role so easily, it made you feel like it was natural, him being the missing puzzle piece inside of you.

Steve wasn’t the person you had thought him to be, he was much worse.

The school year had began, three months and now deep into the winter season, and you had kept your distance even further from everyone else. Eddie had been bothered by it at first, wondering why you were even ghosting him when it came to your isolation. He knew it was Steve related, but he didn’t press the situation, choosing to give your space as you needed. He knew you would come back around eventually.

You heard rocks hitting your window at night as you kept it closed, Steve’s own window ajar as he hung half way out of it. The only response you had was to turn up your stereo, ignoring him as you felt your story was over. Being a pawn in his game wasn’t the way that you wanted to live your life in this town, waiting for the school season to be over until you could make it to college.

You chose to sulk in your room, realizing the self loathing and isolation weren’t going to get you anywhere, but you could pretend as long as it brought you inner peace. You shouldn’t be this upset over someone like him, but you couldn’t help it.

Steve's window across the way was lit up, curtains drawn as shadowed figures moved behind it. You crossed the distance of your bedroom floor, closing the journal that you scribbled in. Two shadows danced in the swaying of the pulled curtains, you figured it was Steve with Nancy, a normal occurrence you saw in the late hours of the night. His window was cracked open, the curtains being sucked out of the opening as the harsh weather made its claim over your part of town.

Just as you went to turn around, you saw a hand strike up, hitting the smaller one next to it. Gasping, you covered your mouth, not believing the sight in front of you. How could Steve hit Nancy like that? You didn't realize he was that type of person, an asshole in every aspect of his life.

The smaller figure fell out of view of the window, presumably on the bed as you saw a small bounce of the shadow. You chose to run out of the room, nearly knocking down your mom as you descended the stairs.

"Honey, what's going on?" She called out to you, but you ignored it, throwing open the front door as you hurried across the lawns. You couldn't waste any time, pounding your fist against the wooden double doors.

"Nancy?" You called out, fist rapidly pounding. All of the Harrington cars were in the driveway, you knew they had to be home by the way each light on the first floor was on. Nobody answered, your fist began to hurt with the force of each blow to the door.

Your face was flushed as it flew open, Steve's mom standing there with her perfect, chestnut hair, styled down to her shoulders. She held a dishrag in her hands, wiping wetness off of it as she looked you up and down, curious.

"Oh, hello, Miss Yn. Is everything okay, darling?" She asked you, peaking her head out to glance around you. She looked for something as you took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say.

"I just- your son," you took a few deep gasps, trying to look around her for signs of the Wheeler girl. "Is Nancy okay?"

She pursed her lips, hand coming up to rest at her hip. You saw a spitting image of Steve in that moment, now knowing where he got it from.

"Uh, Nancy?"

"I saw- She, uh... She fell," you breathed, head shaking as you struggled over your own thoughts. "I don't know what I saw."

You felt crazy as Mrs. Harrington took a look at you. Her gaze slowly traveled over your body, her head nodding slowly as she glanced briefly behind her. She seemed at the same loss of words as you.

"Nancy's not here, darling," She said, beginning to close the door. "You should go home."

Your hand shot out, stopping the wood from closing. The woman gasped, shocked at your bravery in doing so.

"No!" Taking a step towards the home, you couldn't just leave it as that. You were in the doorway at this point, craning your neck to look behind her as you searched for the brunette. "I saw her."

"Honey, I don't know what you saw, but you need to go-"

"Yn?" Steve appeared behind her suddenly, confusion draped over his eyes. A small gasp escaped your mouth as you realized you had the situation so, so wrong.

His eye was yet again bruised, a small cut on his mouth as he ducked his face towards the floor. His body was covered by his mom as he stood behind her, hand coming up to grip the frame of the door. Mrs. Harrington took a look back at her son, not phased by the injuries on his face.

"Steven, go back to your room," she said, shaking her head as placed a hand on his cheek. He flinched away from it, eyes not leaving you as he moved around her. She protested, annoyed at the fact he followed you outside, stepping out of the warmth of the home. "Steven! Before your father-"

"I'll be back," he said, hands on you as he slowly pushed you away from the entrance. He spared a look back at her as his hand found yours. "Please, don't tell him."

The older woman looked at him in his eyes, a silent conversation occurring between the two of them. Glancing at your clasped hands, she took one look behind her before nodding, closing the door with a soft thud.

"Steve? What's going on?" You asked, feeling the warmth of his hand as he led you towards his car. He shushed you, pushing you inside as he unlocked it. The smell of old leather and tobacco invaded your senses, fear shaking your bones as you did not know what to take from the situation. You watched as he settled into the driver's seat, key in ignition before pulling out onto the main road.

Silence overtook the two of you, the only sounds being the small beginnings of the pitter-patter of rain hitting the windshield. The look on the boy's face made him look so young at this moment, his big, brown eyes blinking away the stinging of tears, hand coming up every now and then to touch the red on his lip.

"Steve?"

He didn't answer you, instead pulling over to the side of the road as deep throes of trees surrounded you. He rested his head in his hands, fingers running over his face as the rain continued to grow heavy.

Your hand came to rest at his back, uncertainty in your movements as you weren't sure what you were doing here.

"Steve?" You tried once again, his gaze finally meeting yours, lashes wet with tears. The bruise over his eye had swelled at this point, his fingers coming up to shield the majority of the injury from your wandering look. You moved your hand to grab his, leaning over the center console. It left his face as your grip tightened, fingers intertwining in the darkness of the car.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he muttered, looking down at your chin as he dropped eye contact. The Harrington you once knew was gone in this moment, replaced by a younger version who seemed scared of even himself.

"How long has he...?

Your voice trailed off as he shook his head at you, your question answering itself.

"You don't deserve that. No one does, you shouldn't have to deal with that."

Steve's laughter cut off the rest of your words, he looked up at the roof of the car, shaking his head.

"Little miss perfect, telling me how to deal with this," he tapped his knuckle on the driver's window, other hand dancing on the steering wheel. Heat was on your cheeks.

"I'm just trying to help, Harrington."

He nodded, eyes flitting in your direction as you shrank down in the seat.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly said, hand coming out to rest at your knee. "I... he-he wasn't always like this. It's whenever he drinks too much, and in case, you haven't noticed, I'm not the best as staying silent."

Your hand covered his in your knee, rubbing in small circles as his grip tightened. The warmth flowed through your body, small shock waves of electricity tingling at your spine.

You snorted at his comment, rolling your eyes at the memory of all the little quips Steve had given you since you met him.

"I promise I'm okay, it's not as bad as it looks," he continued, turning his body towards you as you leaned into him. His hand came to rest at your cheek, thumb rubbing at the skin on your cheekbone. "I'm okay, princess. I promise."

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but Steve hadn't been the most trust worthy person you had met in the town. This time, his lying benefited the situation, you weren't sure if he had lied for his own sake, or for yours.

He leaned in slowly, lips hovering over yours for a moment, before they lightly pressed in. A slight copper taste of blood was on his lips, masking the mint taste he so often had. You nipped at his lip, earning a hiss from him as he pulled away slightly.

"Watch it, princess," he laughed into your mouth, fingers lacing in your hair as he pulled you into him. You nodded, breathless sigh opening your mouth, letting his tongue find dominance over yours.

Suddenly, you saw the Wheeler girl, her brown hair against Steve's shoulder, arms wrapped around him in your memory. Pulling away, you placed a hand on his chest, elbow resting on the center console.

"Wh-what about Nancy?" You said, licking the taste of Steve off of your lips. His eyes traced your tongue's movement, his own tongue darting out as he attempted to lean in again.

"She dumped me," he shrugged, glancing up at you.

"Steve!" You exclaimed, eyes widening at his admission. This boy was hurting in more ways than one, all of it being dumped on you on this unexpecting night.

He shook his head, eyes rolling. "She said my mind was too busy on someone else."

His voice was low as he spoke to you, features dark. Heart kicking up a few notches, the hand on his chest began to pull at the fabric, exposing a few hairs by his collarbone.

"I was too distracted by you," he whispered into the air, mouth returning to yours as his thumb parted your lips. His tongue was warm and wet, gliding over the muscle of yours as he leaned over you. The sound of the leather crushed under you, Steve halfway out of his seat as passion was exchanged in the kiss.

"Get in the back, sweetheart," he muttered against your mouth, pressing small kisses to you. You leaned your head back, moaning at the way his wet mouth began to suck and lick at your neck.

"I'm not going to fuck you, Harrington," you rolled your eyes in pleasure, pants coming out of your lips. He nipped at the skin harshly, leaving teeth marks at the plump skin.

He unbuckled the seat belt that strapped you in, guiding it so it didn't harm you as it slid back into place. He reached down, patting at your ass as he urged you to crawl over the seats.

"It's okay," he said, voice low as his hand grazed over your hip. "I'm going to fuck you, sweetheart."

His words sent heat straight to your core, you jumped up at his words, hearing his laughter as you crawled into the back, ridding yourself of your shirt before he could utter the words. He followed you movements, long limbs tripping over himself as he struggled to manage his height in the back. He settled his weight over you, hips planting over yours as he returned his mouth to its previous place, sucking at the junction of your neck.

His hands found your waist, fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before working on his own clothes. The windows began to fog up, small squeaks of the BMW echoing into the rain of the night.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you, baby?" He said, pulling his jeans off of him before crossing his arms at his waist, hunched over to pull off the material of his button up. Your fingers went up to graze over his chest, feeling the dusting of hair under your touch.

The lack of light in the car allowed you no mercy, the glint of dimmed moonlight catching his eye. Your mouth was dropped open, feeling his heavy weight per you as his clothed manhood rubbed over your core.

Returning his mouth to your neck, he began to kiss down the expanse of your skin, goosebumps in its wake. You gripped his tendrils of hair between your fingers, moaning as he pushed you up the seat.

Your head was pressed against the glass, eyes closed in bliss as he pressed small kisses to the space below your belly button. His breath was hot, tongue darting out to lick against the pubic bone, his finger tips stretched over the plane of skin.

Your underwear was pulled down, your hips being ushered upwards as the material slid down your thighs. A kiss was pressed to your clit, your thighs opening as a gasp escaped your mouth, head smacking against the glass once more.

"Look at me, princess," you heard Steve whisper into the night, you shaking your head as your eyes were squeezed shut. You felt him breathe against the heat between your legs, Steve pressing another kiss to you.

"Sweetheart..." He warned, moving to sit up in the vehicle. Before he could make a move, you shot open your eyes, looking down into his dark brown. A smirk was present on his face, eyes filled with arousal as he nodded in approval at the eye contact.

His tongue darted out to lick at you, running languidly as it dipped between your folds. You mewled under his touch, struggling to keep your eyes open as he continued to please you.

His face grew more and more wet, his tongue dipping in and out of your sex as he maintained eye contact. Hand leaving your hip, he pressed a finger to your entrance, dipping it in as a shout escaped you. One of your hands pawed at the window, hips moving against his face as your chased the pleasure he was giving you.

"Steve," you drawled out, grip tight in his hair as you pulled his face further into you. He sucked at your clit, pumping a finger in and out of you at a steady pace.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he whispered against you, slopping up your wetness as he moved his head side to side. White began to cloud your vision, another finger slipping into you as he picked up the pace.

The spot inside of you ached so good, being hit repeatedly as his fingers curled inside of you.

"Steve, I'm gonna-"

He removed himself from you, fingers still moving, paces slower. You whined, the white hot feeling leaving your gut. A smirk covered his face as he leaned up to kiss you, chin wet from your slick.

"Not yet, sweetheart," his kiss was sweet, the taste of you and Steve mixing together as his fingers slowly curled inside of you. It was enough to tease you, keeping you on the edge of your orgasm, wanting more of him in every way possible.

"Steve, please. I need- I need-"

Your words were rambling, as you pulled him into you, fingers scratching at his back. His gaze was almost mocking, eyebrows raised as he took in the pleasure on your face.

"What do you need?" He asked, daring to press a third digit to your dripping entrance. You arched into the touch, feeling the way it poked at you. The burn was harsh, pleasure tickling at your spine, earning another wave of wetness to pool at his fingers.

"I need you, Steve."

"How bad do you need me?" He asked, pushing in the digit even further. Your eyes rolled back, breaking the stare between the two of you. Steve angled your downward, hovering over you as your hair fanned out below you.

His teasing made you even more sloppy, whimpers spilling out of your mouth, fingers clawing at his skin, wetness pressing at the corners of your mouth.

"So bad, Steve." Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, his fingers leaving your heat as he settled between your thighs. One of his hands hooked under the curve of your knee, angling it upwards as your foot draped over the back of the leather seats.

He kneeled over you, pulling down his own underwear as he took a hold of himself. Pumping slowly over his length, his head prodded at your entrance, teasing you as you fluttered around him.

"I don't think I heard you, sweetheart."

You huffed at him, trying to angle your hips up to ease his way in. A hand shot out, pushing you back down into the seat.

"You're such an ass, Harrington."

"And yet you're still here," he laughed, pressing further against you as he began to push into you. You stretched around him, hands shooting up to grip at anything around you as he moaned deeply.

His breath grew short, small pants escaping his lips as his hips stuttered, pressing his full length into you. Forehead pressed against yours, he leaned down to kiss you, moaning helplessly into your mouth.

Steve was big, his cock nudged deep inside of you, aching as it pressed against your cervix.

He slowly rolled his hips inside of you, cock nudging deeper and deeper as you groaned, hands gripping the globe of his ass. Rearing his hips back, he moaned before snapping them back in, the entirety of the car shaking with the force of it.

He urged animalistic moans out of you, red scratches on his skin as his teeth left bite marks on your skin.

"Feel so good, baby," he moaned, licking over bites marks that he left. The sound of slapping skin echoed through the car, humidity leaving your skin damp.

"So fucking good."

He began a string of words of encouragement, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You felt a feeling like no other bubbling in your core, pressure that felt like exploding as he fucked into you.

So pretty, princess.

You feel so good around me, look what you're-fuck, look what you're doing to me.

Gonna cum so deep inside of you, sweetheart.

This pussy's all mine, baby? All mine.

You moaned at his words, his thrusts becoming more sloppy as your wetness became a slip and slide that he struggled to keep up with. It came to a point where you only felt his head hitting against your sweet spot, blinding white pleasure clouding your mind.

Steve moaned loud, you felt a burst of his warm release inside of you, filling you up as he rammed inside of you.

"Cum for me, princess," he moaned, continuing to fuck you even through his own over stimulation. You screamed out loud as you exploded, wetness spurting out of you as he coughed out a loud, shocked laugh, hand reaching down to rub at your clit.

Arching your back, you moaned through it, feeling extremely lightheaded as he massaged you. His seats were a mess, dripping with your own release as you pushed him away from you. Removing himself from you, he sat back, admiring the way you laid there, spent.

"Well, that's a first," he laughed, reaching down to grab his underwear to wipe down the liquid. You blushed, hand coming up to cover the redness at your cheeks.

"Shut up, Harrington," you giggled, breathlessly as you felt him wipe you down. He pulled you up to a sitting position, pulled into his side as you winced at the soreness in your legs.

He frowned, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he rubbed the palms of his hands over your arms.

"You alright, princess?" He whispered into your hairline, covering you with his discarded sweater. You nodded, leaning your head back so you could look into his eyes.

They were filled with a warmer emotion, much different than the previous look he had. His hair fell over his forehead, bed head wild as he scanned your features.

"Does this mean we're friends now?" He asked you, smile tugging at his mouth as his thumb found its way over your cheek. It pushed at your bottom lip, parting your lips as it pressed inside, lightly brushing against your tongue.

It was your turn to laugh, rolling your eyes as you took a good look at him. He was spent, bruised and breathless, hope lingered in his eyes as he awaited your answer.

"You tell me, Steve." You said, pressing a kiss to his mouth again. He moaned again, cock stirring once more as your lips met. You both pulled away to look down at it, the dripping head leaking as it began to harden again.

You laughed, noticing the way his chest began to rise and fall shallowly.

"Fuck, princess," he groaned, head leaning back against the seat. His eyes fluttered shut. "You're going to fucking kill me."

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open.

AN: I love mean!Steve, I am sorry. I promise I'll have him as a sweetheart one of these days. This took forever for me to write, so let me know what you think?

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

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

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you going far?"

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

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

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

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

"You really don't have to…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Late night?"

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

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

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

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

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, rebellion or something else?"

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

"Did it work?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

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

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night," he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You sure?" He asks once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, chef!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chef, your girl is here."

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

"Here you go."

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Chef!"

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

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

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

"You too, Neil!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about your famous pizza?"

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

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

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That rough," you grimace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What good does he have to offer you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's been so fuckin' long.

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

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

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carmen, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

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

The End?

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

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

thank you! bye xx

jake lacy as shane patton in the white lotus: hawaii

primetime emmy award nominee for outstanding supporting actor in a limited series or movie

Spicy links that gave Logan vibes..

Simply a selection of P!rn links, all sourced from twitter, whilst i continue working on a couple new full pieces! (And as a cheeky lil thanks for all the recent love!!)

Masterlist

Warnings?: explicit content, fem reader? cunnilingus, unprotected sex, piv, fingering, mention of nudes? Riding? Cum? Wade mention, threesome mention? Moment of aftercare? Idk man.. Its just alot of prn..

Soft, giggly mornings being woken up by Logans mouth (cunnilingus)

Relaxing and giving each other a hand.. (Also known as mutal masturbation)

Logan making you cum on his tongue pt2 (cunnilingus + hand holding)

Logan just being a tease touchin his girl (+a mirror)

Nice and deep, making his pretty girl feel good (topping from the bottom)

Taking pictures with logan. (Nudes)

Logans desperation breaks through (makeout + cunnilingus)

Making a mess all over his pretty girls pussy (painting you with cum)

Wade cleans up you and logans mess (threesome/cunnilingus)

Aftercare cuddles (happily wrapped in his arms)

BILL SKARSGÅRD as Boy in BOY KILLS WORLD 2023 — dir. Moritz Mohr

Hello! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could write a Spencer Reid x Reader fic based off “prison for life” by Olivia Rodrigo. Spencer has always been in the protector role so i believe it would fit him, please and thank you

PRISON FOR LIFE ; spencer reid

i know i can protect myself, but when you do it for me it’s hot as hell . . .

a/n: your brain is huge this song is so spencer coded

warnings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, unsub / case entirely made up to avoid spoilers, protective!spencer, established relationship, secret relationship, mentions of guns, violence, blood, criminal minds in general

a team. the worst kind of conclusion to draw when you’re narrowing in on an unsub, or two in this case. two family annihilators that would stalk and learn the routines of their victims, the kills were usually quick and ruthless, in and out in a matter of minutes.

only this time, your team had gotten there right in time. derek dragged one unsub out the door while the other bolted down the stairs towards the basement. without thinking, you’re sprinting after him, unknowingly running straight into a trap.

you trip the moment you barrel through the door, flying head first down the flight of stairs and landing on the hard concrete with a hard thud.

dizzily, you get to your feet, clumsily reaching for your gun only to realise you dropped it on your way down. it’s dark, you’re disoriented, and most terrifyingly, you’re not alone down here.

a fact you’re abruptly reminded of when a cord is wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against the chest of the unsub you were hunting. the initial panic urges you to scramble, but your training kicks in and you manage the lodge your elbow right into his ribs making him drop the cable.

the same elbow connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack but he’s not going easily, using the hair at the back of your head as leverage to bash your head against a dust old desk.

the struggle goes on for what feels like hours, and you’re giving as good as you’re getting. with a successful knee to his groin you send the unsub tumbling to the ground, and right as he’s about to lunge at you a metallic click sounds from behind where you stand.

“one more step and i’ll empty my clip”

spencer reid, your favourite coworker who also happens to be your long time boyfriend, has his gun pointed at the unsub with one hand as the other reaches out to pull you behind him protectively.

in a matter of seconds tara is cuffing the dirtbag before you and hauling him up the stairs with the help of jj, leaving you and spencer in the dusty basement.

“I had it under control.”

“It was no problem, darling, honestly, no need to thank me” spencer teases, holstering his gun and taking your face in his hands to fully examine the extent of your injuries “you really think i was just gonna ignore the fact you ran after a killer and didn’t come back within sixty seconds?”

“i’m not some damsel in distress” you groan, letting him examine your face with no resistance “i can protect myself”

“i know.” spencer nods, using his thumb to swipe the blood away from your bottom lip “it’s not gonna stop me protecting you, though. sorry”

he can see through your faux annoyance. spencer knows just as much as you do that you like having him as your protector, it’s ‘his job’ as he put it.

though, his protectiveness has made hiding your relationship that bit trickier.

everyone on the team would take a bullet for each other, there was no doubt about it, but people hotch were beginning to notice that spencer often went above and beyond when it came to your safety.

like when the bau were being targeted, he never left your side, if you were sent to interview a suspect reid was right there with you. even if a joke was made at your expense, it wouldn’t be entertained by spencer.

sometimes you could pass it off as it being because you were a woman, because even though all the women on the team were more than capable, the men on the team had a fierce protective streak for them whether or not they knew.

“you’re so annoying..” you grumble, fighting a small smile.

“mhm” spencer chuckles, pressing a quick, light kiss to your head “i love you too, darling”

“oh!”

a squeak from tara has both of you whipping your heads in her direction, frozen in the mixture of fear and embarrassment that you’d just been caught out.

“well,” tara clears her throat and makes a poor attempt at concealing a grin “we’re all done here when you two are ready.”

Claire Novak + Hugs