#the bear one shot

[inklore]

just a taste

premise: meeting luca after work doesn't usually end up with the two of you in an intense lip lock, both of you knowing once you start it's hard to stop. but that's what offices are for, right?

pairing: luca x (f)reader

word count: 3.1k

contents: literally barely any plot here, oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, coming inside, established relationship, doing it at the workplace, teasing, dirty talk, pet names.

note: i know the bare minimum about this man because i’ve never seen the bear but those tattoos, the accent, the hair?? fill me like an eclair is all i have to say ok!

The cool breeze of the night air almost makes you regret not just heading straight home and slipping under the steam of a nice long shower and grabbing the first blanket you see on the sofa and planting yourself there for the rest of the night. Await your boyfriend's arrival under the comfort of cotton and cushion that he’ll surely plop down next to you on after he’s kicked off his shoes. His cold fingers finding you under the blanket to pull you close to his side, a string of kisses pressed along the side of your neck before finding your lips. The smell of yeast and sugar—embedded in his skin at this point—making you bury your nose into his collarbone. 

But this was a ritual for the both of you. 

You finishing your studies and then meeting him after work. 

The two of you walking home together, barely making it through the threshold of your place before lips and clothes were being pressed together and thrown to the floor. Luca’s soft laugh at needing to shower. Thus always leading to your face pressed into the wall of the shower and Luca’s fingers digging into your hips as he thrust inside of you. 

So that nibble of regret doesn’t last long when you come to a stop in front of his work. The makings of anticipation pull at the corner of your mouth as you grab your phone from your bag and start to text him to let him know you’re out front. 

A text that’s barely on the last word when the breeze of the door is hitting you and making you look up, “you can go in. He's in the back.” a co-worker you’ve met a dozen times, but his name slips your mind as you give him an appreciative smile and thank him as you slip through the doors as he walks out. 

You could enter the kitchen a dozen times—a million, a billion—your nose filling with that sweet aroma, Luca bent over a table, a dish, fingers deep in a ball of dough, the monochromatic uniform making his tattoos stand out on his skin like the most beautiful canvas, and you’d never get over the view. 

Over how your insides react when you see him in his element.

See him doing what he loves. 

It’s like the first time every time. 

Just like the first time he dragged you into the kitchen after your tenth date. Showing you his own version of paradise. His love. His joy. The way his face lit up when your eyes brightened when you bit into the scone he had made—saved—for you. The euphoric sweetness a good dessert can do to one's brainstem is still a scientific mystery to you, but you’d gladly leave the research to the experts if you could experience it forever. 

Taste Luca’s creations forever. 

That memory seems like ages ago. Now well into two years of your relationship. 

Nothing seems to fade with Luca. 

Your first times feeling just as tortuous to your fluttering insides as the tenth or twentieth time around. 

It knocks you off kilter in the best way. 

And when you look over at Luca after dropping off your bag and sweater in an open chair, you can not help but laugh when he finally looks up from cleaning off the surfaces of the metal tables and that stone look of him being in chef mode falls from the creases of his face and his features melt into something soft. 

He doesn’t say anything until his arm is around your midsection, drawing you in. “Hi, beautiful.” He smiles as your lips meet in a long kiss. Kissing you as if he hasn’t seen you in days, as if he has spent the entire day waiting for this moment and this moment alone. “How was your day?” 

“Not as good as it is now,” you tease. Hand in the back of his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours. 

The hum that makes your lips buzz and that lands on your tongue as he backs you up so your back is pressed into the doorframe makes anything you could tell him about what happened in your day lackluster. Incomparable. How could you possibly think of anything worthwhile—how could anything be as worthwhile—as his tongue moving along your bottom lip, his hand at the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing a small circle into your skin? 

It couldn’t.

"Let me finish cleaning up," he smirks. Thumb and pointer reaching for your chin, squeezing it, luring you in for one last kiss before returning to cleaning and leaving you dazed in the doorway.  

And if you didn’t know how seriously Luca takes this, from the ritual of making pastries to maintaining a stern, clean kitchen, you would tell him to hurry. Complaining that it is not fair for him to kiss you like that and then make you wait for him to finish, but the payoff was always worth the wait. And you love Luca’s love for his craft. Love him in this element—watching him and seeing him go into that little part of his brain that makes him go into boss mode. 

The stern gentleness of it all. 

It’s breathtaking to watch.

It’s art.

He’s art. 

So that’s what you do. 

You push off the doorframe and enter further into the kitchen just to watch him. 

“How was your day?” You ask while watching him write on the white board in the corner. 

“Good. We got a new guy who came in.” 

“Is he any good?” 

“Better than he thinks he is.” 

“I bet you brought out his best. You always do.” You smile at him when you watch him shrug off the compliment, not missing the twitch of the corner of his mouth. Ever so modest. 

Wordlessly, he puts the cap back on the marker and sets it against the metal of the board, walking over to one of the refrigerators and pulling out a small bowl of something green and white. 

Something that looks too beautifully crafted to eat, let alone eaten by someone who might not fully understand what went into making something so decadent—something that looks like it would be served to someone with a gold card, not someone who eats boxed mac and cheese for dinner twice a week (which Luca always tries to make fancier than Kraft ever could). 

Luca hands you a spoon, “told him the only critic that mattered was sharing a bed with me.” You make a face, the both of you knowing how outlandish that sounds when the food genius himself is standing in front of you. The critic who mattered to a lot of people more than the girl who was sharing his bed. 

But it still brings a smile to your face. 

“Did he think you were utterly insane for such a statement? I think eating greasy takeout two nights in a row is five star dining.”

He chuckles, “you’re the only critic that matters to me.” His palms come down on the edge of the metal table between you as he leans against it. “The only important one at least. Try it.”

The swoop that runs through you from his words, from his eagerness to hear your thoughts on a dessert you do not even know the name of, but know you will appreciate more than anyone else because it came from someone he admires, makes your cheeks heat up. 

And when it touches your tongue, when that euphoric sweetness overcomes your tastebuds, you don’t think the English dictionary could come in handy with describing the taste. The goodness of it. Compliments, which you know Luca and his fellow chefs have heard many times before and then some. But still bring that artist's joy to their chests when your eyes widen and you look at them in something akin to shock. 

The moan you let out makes him grin.

“Good?”

“Is he single?” 

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” His arms cross over his chest, a playful brow raised.

You take another bite of the dessert, “I think you might want to start looking for another job.”

“And a girlfriend?”

You nod, “with something that tastes this good, I would give him my social security number easily. Oh my god.” You dramatically moan around the spoon, the action doing little to hide the simpering look on your face.

“Here I thought I was the only one who could make you spill such confidential secrets.” Luca strides across the table, coming to stand at your back. His lips pressing against the back of your neck and the top of your shoulder. 

Finding its home where your collarbone meets the junction of your throat, where he lets his warm breath blow against the known sensitivity there, then presses his lips to it. Making your back push into his front, your body melting against him. 

A soft noise lays dormant at the tail end  of your throat, making a ghost of a smirk etch against your skin from his mouth as he murmurs, “and the only one who can make those noises come out of you.”

Your voice is breathy when you say, “so much for being humble.”

"When it’s the truth, I do not need to be humble." His lips trailing to your ear, fingers running up the back of your exposed thighs, pulling up your skirt until they are at the apex of your hip, skating forward and close to your clothed mound. “Am I wrong? Should we see?” 

The spoon in your hand lucky you don’t have superhuman strength because it would be crushed in your grip right now. 

Luca’s fingers splay themselves across your pelvis, toying with the top of your underwear. “Hmm, awfully quiet now. Where’d my mouthy girl go?” An airy chuckle tickles your ear as he lets it out, “humbled are you?” 

There’s a teasing sneer forming on your mouth before it does a 180 and morphs into an ‘o’ as Luca’s fingers push into your underwear, the pad running through the clear as day arousal that’s been making your thighs clench uncomfortably since your kiss in the doorway. 

When the finger moves against your clit there's no covering up the gasps that fall from your lips. Or the way your ass grinds against the erection that’s pressing up against it. 

“Who’s humble now?” He teases. A cheeky grin on his face when he pulls his hand out from your underwear, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Making your cheeks heat even more when you turn to look at him. Your teasing turns needy as you give him that look, the one that always makes him drop whatever he is doing and have his body on yours within seconds. 

You both know that making it home now will feel ten times longer. Ten times more agonizing in the cool air with your warming bodies.

With you soaking your underwear and him hard against his zipper. 

So when he says “office”, all you can do is chew on your bottom lip in eagerness as you make a beeline towards it. Luca closer behind you than you expect when you hear the door shut seconds after you’ve entered and his mouth immediately on yours, your ass hoisted onto the nearest surface. 

Luca’s fingers making quick work to pull down your underwear, your skirt bunched at your hips. You fully expect him to pull himself up from his knees after slipping the lace from your ankle and tossing it to the floor. You expect him to come back up and slide inside of you quick and easy, but instead he’s trailing kisses and bites into your thighs. 

Blue eyes look up into yours, and he must see the need in them—that glint that tells him all you want is for him to be inside of you right now. The heady woes of foreplay just torture at this point. 

His teeth sink harder into your flesh, making you gasp. “I’ve worked hard all day; don’t I deserve a treat? A taste of the best dessert out there.” 

And how could you argue with that?

You can’t.

Not when his tongue runs from the bite mark in your skin to your wetness. Spreading you around him as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your grip on the metal your ass is under hard and tight enough to leave marks against your palm. 

And as crude as it makes you sound, as obscene and cocky as it comes off your lips, you will never hold back from telling Luca that his talent as a chef will never outweigh how good he is with his mouth and cock. 

He’s multi-talented and it’s a blessing and a curse to your insides. 

“Oh, fuck. Luca,” your head hangs between your shoulders. Your fingers in his hair, the heel of your shoe pressed against his back—his apron long gone, leaving him in that navy blue—his fingers digging into the side of your thighs as he keeps you against his mouth. 

The mouth that’s switching between sucking your clit between his lips and rolling his tongue against it. Eating you like you’re the best dessert his tongue has ever had the pleasure of tasting. 

It never takes him long to get you there. To make your chest heave and your nerve endings light up, as if they are about to make you panic from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that is completely taking over your body. 

His fingers have created beautiful, mouth watering food, just as they’ve made you completely lose your mind. Your legs shaking around his head. Your back involuntarily bows until it hits the metal surface of the desk you’re perched on. 

It’s when he slips two fingers inside of you that you completely lose it. The sob that pulls itself from your lungs feels red-hot in your throat as your fingers grip the strands of his blonde hair as you come against his mouth. Your hips riding out your high. Rolling against his tongue in a languid way, drawing out the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Your body still reeling and alight with that desire-train that still has it wanting more. That heavy ache between your legs that wants to be filled. To be fucked by something bigger and thicker than a finger.

Your mouth comes down on the tabasco tattoo below Luca’s wrist in a gentle kiss, one of your favorites of his, when his hand comes to cup the back of your head to pull you up to him. 

His thumb runs from your cheek to your chin, where he pushes it up, so you’re looking up at him and he’s looking down at you as he stands between your legs. Your nails run along the tattoos along his arms, up his bicep, and to the nape of his neck. A fire burning in his eyes when your fingers run between the strands back there. 

“Tell me,” he says close to your lips. He’s checking in. Seeing if you’re too spent for his cock, seeing if there's more you want. If you want to wait until you get home. If you’re ready for him now. 

“It’d be cruel to not fuck me now.” You say it in a half-tease-half-serious tone. 

“Ooh,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “I don’t want to be cruel.” You can feel his other hand move between the two of you, undoing the button of his pants and messing with the zipper until he’s pulling himself out of them, hard and leaking. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she so desperately needs?” 

Luca smirks when you laugh into his mouth, “the worst kind.”

With one last kiss, lick, and nip at your lower lip, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, making your thighs shake. Nails dig into his skull as he soaks up your oversensitivity to coat himself before going lower and slipping inside of you in one slow, fluid motion. 

Your mouth hung open at the stretch, and your breath caught in your lungs. Your foreheads resting against each other as you let your walls accommodate his girth, both of your breaths heavy. The pounding you can feel between your legs—that you’re not sure is coming from him or you or something more poetic and overwhelming like your conjoined bodies aching as one, like a heartbeat aches for a chest cavity when it’s torn from a body. 

The two of you need this. 

Need each other. 

When Luca starts moving, you know the two of you are both completely fucked. Spent and so full of desire that you know your time in this office is just the start of a long night of tangled limbs and wet mouths. 

The sounds you are making against each other's mouth are breathy and intoxicating. His tongue in your mouth swallows every mewl and moan he coaxes from your body with each stroke of his cock. 

His fingers find the back of your head again, not allowing you to even think about leaving his mouth. 

You think you see stars when his palm finds the back of your thigh and pulls your leg higher on his hips. Think you could let this man completely consume you, and you’d still never be satisfied. Never get over how good it feels to feel his hips drive deeper into you, to feel the head of his cock hit that spot inside of you that makes his name roll off your tongue like a prayer. 

“Who’s pussy is it, baby?” 

"Mm'fuck," you are not sure if he is still playing the game of you leaving him for the new chef or if his filthy mouth is attempting to completely destroy you—which is nothing new when he has you coating and tightening around his cock like this. 

When you say his name, when you whine it into his mouth like a pathetic desperation, the erotic noise that it’s met with makes you cling to him tighter. Makes you press yourself closer to him. The movement makes the outside of his pants grind against your clit. 

“So beautiful,” Luca murmurs. The octave of his voice grows lower and choppy with heavy breaths the closer he gets. Neither of you lasts much longer when his pace picks up. The grip the two of you have on each other is hard and rough, enough to tear and leave marks that you’ll later kiss with gentle lips, unlike the passion that’s coming through with the hard kisses your mouths are giving as you both come. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” He breathes into your mouth, twisting your insides even more. 

#luca x reader #will poulter x reader #luca the bear #will poulter smut #luca smut #luca x you #luca the bear x you #the bear #the bear fanfiction #will poulter x you #the bear fx #the bear one shot #will poulter fic #the bear x reader #will poulter #adam warlock smut #luca one shot #the bear imagine

[aestheticaltcow]

Six Months

An attempt at some parenthood angst?

Similarly to the title, this fic has been in my WIP folder for a minute; it went through a handful of edits. I'd like to think this is good enough for y'all.

 Carmy sat in the office staring at the paperwork Sugar needed his signature on; when he saw the date on his phone, it hit him—today marked six months. Six months of parenthood and six months of celibacy, to say Carmy was sexually frustrated, was an understatement. “Hey Carm, did you- are you okay?” Sugar asked when she caught him staring blankly at his phone. He didn’t respond until she put her hand on his shoulder. Her touch snapped him out of his trance. He looked at her before quickly apologizing, “Sorry, what were you sayin'?” Sugar grinned as she patted his shoulder, “You okay, Bear?”

Carmy nodded and straightened up in his desk chair, “Yea- just thinkin’ bout the baby.”

Carmy got home from work late. He quietly slipped his jacket off, and hung it on the coat rack before removing his shoes. Walking down the hallway, he slipped into the nursery, knowing the baby would be asleep. He found it impossible not to be happy in her room. The walls were decorated with vintage floral wallpaper you’d bought off Etsy, it may have been a pain in the ass to put up, but Carmy happily obliged when he saw how happy it had made you. He crept to his baby girl’s crib and felt the day's stress disappear. She was peacefully sleeping in a light pink sleep sack, furiously sucking away on her pacifier. “Sweet dreams, princess,” he whispered. “I love you.” 

The joy of watching his daughter sleep faded away as he approached the askew door to the master bedroom the two of you shared. “I’m home, baby.” Carmy grinned as he walked toward the open closet door, “Hi, Carm.” you called from the bathroom. When he entered the bathroom, you were brushing your teeth. As the mix of salvia and toothpaste residue dripped from your mouth Carmy’s breath hitched- was this enough to get him goin’? He shook his head as he pulled his shirt off and threw it in the laundry hamper before turning on the shower.

“How was work, babe?” you asked before bringing a small cup of mouthwash to your lips. Carmy watched as you swished it around your mouth and spit it into the sink. “Carmy?” you asked again; he swallowed. “Yeah, uh, it was good. Busy,” he answered as you hopped up on the counter. You were desperate for adult interaction after being home with the baby all day. 

“Mia, have a good day?” Carmy questioned. You nodded, “We did some laundry, then had mashed pears for lunch- she did. I had that leftover pasta sauce you made... Read a couple books and went on a walk... Then did her bedtime routine, and I worked on that stupid documentary I was telling you about.” 

As you recounted your day, Carmy nodded, but he was staring at your chest, barely hearing what you said. You’d been wearing one of his old T-shirts. He noticed how prominent your nipples were under the soft, worn-in material. He was captivated by the fullness of your breasts, and he’d do just about anything to touch them again. “Carm, you okay?” you asked, hopping down from the counter; he nodded. “Wanna get in with me?” he asked cocking his head in the direction of the running shower. You giggled, “Maybe next time, bear.”

“Oh fuck-” Carmy grunted as he worked his hand up and down his length. He felt like a teenager again, masturbating in the shower before going to school. However, now, instead of imagining the unrealistic scenarios he’d see in pornos, he had memories of you. Carmy thought back to the last time you’d really touched him. Heavily pregnant, hormonal, begging for his tongue and his cock… he’d expected a shift in your sex life as the two of you adjusted to parenthood, but this long of a dry spell was the last thing he’d expected. Carmy squeezed his eyes closed as he came down the drain.

~

“Good morning, princess.” Carmy cooed as Mia squirmed in her crib, trying to get out of her sleep sack. She spat her pacifier out and let out a gruggle. “So it’s one of those mornings?” he chuckled as he unzipped her. He watched her stretch before carefully picking her up, “See, you’re okay.” he rocked her gently before exiting the nursery and heading downstairs. 

You were making coffee and prepping a bottle for Mia as he entered the kitchen. “You’re off today, right?” Carmy nodded in response before handing you Mia. “You goin’ to work?” he questioned, as he got two mugs from the cabinet. You groaned in response, “Jenny called off, so I have to go in. I’ll be back before bedtime.”

“Well, looks like Mia and I are havin' some Daddy-Daughter time,” you smiled as Carmy gently kissed her head before going to get the milk from the fridge. When you’d met Carmy all those years ago at some trendy Chicago bar, you found him incredibly alluring. His disheveled curls, the mix of some musky cologne and cigarette smoke, the way his T-shirt wrapped around his muscular arms… he’d always been… sexy. But watching him interact with Mia was a different kind of attractive.

Carmy drummed his thumbs on the handlebar of the grocery cart. He scanned the shelf before him as Mia happily made her baby noises as she looked around the aisle. “Okay, princess… they don’t have almond extract. What kind of grocery store doesn’t have fuckin’ almond extract.” Mia put her hands out to Carmy, grabbing at the air. Carmy chuckled and ducked to kiss her cheek.

“Oh my gosh, she’s too precious.” a sickly, sweet feminine voice cooed from behind Carmy. He grinned when he turned his attention to her, “How old is she?” she asked. Carmy got a good look at the woman; she was pretty, but she wasn’t you. “Oh, uh, she’s six months,” he answered as the woman stepped closer. She smelled like cheap vanilla and a mix of flowery scents Carmy couldn’t place. Mia glared at the woman, and Carmy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Selena. I’m in this parenting group. You should stop by.” she smiled as she looked him up and down. The attention made Carmy regret not regularly wearing his wedding ring. “I’m not really the par-” Carmy started to say before Selena cut him off. “I’m not takin’ no as an answer. What’s your number?” she handed him her phone. 

Carmy didn’t know why he gave her his number- could he blame it on feeling uncomfortable? Was that even the right thing to do? It’s not like he’d ever do anything with this woman. He’d never throw away his marriage to you by hooking up with some woman he met at the grocery store. The reality of Carmy's actions didn’t hit him until he was in the checkout line. He gave his phone number to another woman- was that cheating on you? Did doing that in front of his daughter make him a bad father? “Okay, your total is $63.82.” the cashier smiled. Carmy nodded and swiped his card. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t run into Selena again.

~

It had been a couple of weeks since Carmy’s interaction at the grocery store. He’d noticed Selena’s text messages here and there. They seemed innocent until one Friday night, he was working late, you were home with the baby, and Selena had sent Carmy an explicit picture, hoping it would get his attention.

We’re both parents. 

I’m not looking for anything serious, Carmy…

My son is at his Dad’s place

Come over <3

Carmy stared at the messages before his eyes went up to the attached photo. Selena had the hem of her T-shirt between her teeth, showing off her toned stomach. He swallowed as he admired the contrast between her skin and the brightly colored fabric of her lacy underwear. He should block her. He should just delete the messages and block her number. He had a wife and baby at home—he couldn’t make this kind of mistake. He locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket before returning to the kitchen cleanup, “Hey Carm, I can finish this up. Go home.” Sweeps grinned as he attempted to connect his phone to the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. Carmy grinned, “You sure, man?” Sweeps nodded assuringly. “I think I can handle this boss man.” 

You heard Carmy walk into the bedroom that night, “Hey babe!” you called as you put your blowdryer in its designated spot by the sink. As the bathroom door swung open, Carmy’s lips were on yours. The initial shock wore off as Carmy’s tongue invaded your mouth, and his hands pushed under the hem of your sleep shorts to grasp at your ass cheeks. Carmy pulled you closer to him, forcing you onto your tip toes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers delicately tangling in the roots of his hair. The passionate kiss ended when Carmy started to kiss down your jaw. A giggle escaped your mouth as his lips brushed against your earlobe before he nipped at your neck. “Carm-m what got into you?” you croaked as you adjusted your hips against his.

 “I need you, baby,” he muttered, lifting you off the floor. You squealed as he crashed down onto your mattress. He hovered above your body, staring into your eyes. “I need to be inside you, baby.” he swallowed hard as you bit your lip. “Carmyyy,” you giggled as you watched him pull his t-shirt off. You ran a finger down his chest, making him moan softly.

 “Let me make you feel good, baby…” Carmy whispered in your ear as one of his hands found its way into your oversized sleep shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his calloused fingertips graze your ribs. " I-I—" you studdered nervously. “Baby…please.” Carmy quietly asked as his lips brushed against yours. “No.” you whispered as you grabbed his wrist through your shirt, “What?” Carmy questioned as he stood up abruptly, “Did I do something? We haven’t done anything in like six months- clearly I did something wrong. Just tell me so I can fix it!” Carmy raised his voice as his eyebrows knit together in frustration. 

You propped yourself on your elbows and watched as he picked up his shirt from the floor, “Carmen, please don’t yell at me.” you said calmly. You watched as he rolled his eyes and paced before you, “Baby. I want to have sex with you. I need to have sex with you-” Carmy groaned as he pushed his hands over his face into his hair. Your eyes narrowed, “Carmen. I had a baby-”

 “I KNOW! I fucking know! You had my baby, but now you don’t even want to fuckin’ shower with me! I get it- pregnancy was hard, and then giving birth was hard, and now being a mom is hard.” Carmy started staring at the ceiling while he expressed himself. He took a breath and turned to look at you; regret washed over him when he noticed you were on the verge of tears. “Baby, please don’t cry…” he pleaded as he knelt by the bed. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away before he could grab it, “Sorry, I don’t want to fuck you after taking care of your baby all day.” you spat. Carmy closed his eyes and took another breath trying to compose himself before saying something dumb, “How dare I fail to meet my wifely duties.” you angrily laughed as you stood up. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared as Carmy got up. “Baby, I didn’t—" you cut Carmy off with a groan. “Shut up, Carmen. You don’t get to speak to me like that.”

Carmy sighed and stepped closer to you, as he reached out for your hips only for you to slap his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” you glared at him, “Fuck this.” Carmy muttered under his breath as he pulled his shirt back on over his head. “What do you mean ‘fuck this’?” you questioned as Carmy exited the bedroom, “I need air.” Carmy called back to you.

You moved to your bedroom window to see Carmy walking toward his car in the driveway. He got in and pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. 

Send me your address.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x you #carmy smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear fan ficiton #the bear fic #the bear one shot #the bear imagine

[newlynova]

MDNI. you were sent to copenhagen to learn from the best pastry chef. little did you know that he was willing to teach you lessons beyond the realm of baking. 1.1k. cw female masturbation, power imbalance

the sweet aroma of vanilla bean and molasses enveloped you as you tugged the blanket higher upon your body, the warmth and comfort of the soft bed soothing the knots and aches of your muscles.

you had been working nonstop since you're arrival to copenhagen— your working days had consisted of fourteen hours on your feet in the kitchen of your mentor while the rest of your hours were spent nonstop reading and researching various recipes. you had been sent to copenhagen by your boss to learn from his former co-worker and close friend. 

you had been overjoyed, ecstatic even, to learn and work hands-on with such an amazing chef. yet upon your arrival, your excitement had been quickly replaced with dread— not for baking, no. but for the chef himself.

he was closer to you in age than you had expected— a handsome fellow with wavy blonde hair and various tattoos decorating his arms. he was quiet and dedicated yet very assertive in the kitchen. his tone had been dominant and blunt since he began his lessons with you, unable to hold his tongue while providing clear yet merciless feedback on your baking. he never yelled at you, though, refraining from doing so out of respect for your person, an action you rarely saw in your profession.

life after work had not been much better since you had been forced to stay with him— the rate of hotels and local bed n' breakfasts having been far too high for you to able to afford both a flight ticket and hotel arrangement for your trip. luckily, he had offered you his bedroom, allowing some divide between your personal life and his own.

and, as you lay there in your temporary boss's bed that night, your mind began to wander against better judgment. it had been far too long since you had any relief, far too long since you had felt an ounce of euphoria. hours upon hours of working had taken a toll on you, you thought as your hands drifted beneath the fabric of your large pajama shirt, you deserved this.

without another thought, your hands began to tweak your pebbled nipples, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds as heat pooled at the base of your cunt. you rolled your head to the side, cheek pressed flat into your chef luca's pillow in a poor attempt to muffle your moans. one hand began to drift down, trailing lightly over the length of your stomach before slipping under the covers of your pajama shorts. your mind drifted to the sleeping chef on the other side of the wall.

you thought of his strong and tattooed arms. the sight of his tattoo sleeves had been an object of your desire, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as the idea of tracing the outline of the illustrations with your tongue flashed through your mind. your mind then fixated on his large hands— those long and girthy fingers making your cunt flutter around emptiness. you pondered on how they would feel buried deep into your cunt, if they were as skilled with toying with a woman's pussy as they were crafting orgasm-inducing baked goods.

the light of the bedroom flickered on as your fingers slipped into your wet slit, your walls clenching around your far-too-small index and middle fingers as the bright warm light blinded you. your cheeks grew hot as you made eye contact with chef luca, your mouth dry and muscles stiff. 

at that moment you realized how inappropriate your actions were— here you were stuffing your cunt full at the idea of sleeping with your boss while lying in his bed. you were almost positive that he was going to kick you out at this point. you wouldn't blame him either— you much rather have a pervert sleep on the streets than sleep just a few mere feet away from you.

"i— luca— i can explain." you rushed out, retracting your hand from the depths of your walls not quickly enough. you couldn't help the rush of heat to your cheeks nor the clench of your cunt at the sight of his relaxed posture. wait, relaxed? why was he so relaxed?

"you look like you've seen a ghost, love," luca smirked, the thickness of his british accent ever present. he crossed his arms over his chest, biceps flexing through the thin grey shirt he had donned. with his legs crossed at the ankles and his body leaning against the door frame, he continued to taunt you with a knowing look in his eyes. 

"don't stop on my account, pretty girl," he readjusted the grip on his arms, your eyes shamelessly drifting down to the tent growing in his plaid pajama pants. "i thought i had heard a noise and figured i'd check on you— glad i did now," he stated.

"have i been working you too hard, darling? body too sore and in need of relief that you felt the need to touch yourself," he raised a questioning eyebrow. "in my bed?"

you were too stunned to speak, your mind going blank as you processed the situation. you couldn't help but get wetter at the prospect of your boss finding amusement in your situation.

"pull the blankets down." luca ordered sternly, your hands moving quickly to follow his instructions. your body was performing on autopilot, all sense of self-esteem having gone out the window. "remove your shirt." he then instructed.

the cold air nipped at your chest, your nipples hardening even further under the weight of his gaze and the frosty atmosphere. "what were you thinking about while you touched yourself, hm?" luca questioned as he pushed his body off the door frame. his steps were slow and calculated, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he crawled into the bed space in front of you. "were you imagining this? imagining me walking in— catching you?" he taunted, fingertips brushing over the bare skin of your ankle. 

within the span of a second, luca's fingertips had wrapped around the width of your ankle, tugging your body close to him and pinning you beneath his weight. he had situated his body between your legs, eyes fixed on you like a predator. any words had been lost to you, not that you would be able to find the right words to say anyway. like always, luca had left you speechless.

"tell me, pretty girl," luca's body hovered above you, hands pinned to the bed by either side of your head while he trapped you between his legs. his eyes grazed over your bare chest, drinking in the delectable sight of your breasts rising and falling with each heavy breath. 

"do you want me to teach you another lesson?" he asked, one of his hands shifting to cup the underside of your breast. he squeezed at the plump flesh, expertly kneading at the fat of your breast like it was made of dough.

"yes, chef."

#˚ ༘♡ 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #꒰ luca ꒱ #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear x reader #the bear x you #the bear x fem reader #the bear fanfiction #luca x reader #will poulter x reader #luca the bear #will poulter smut #luca smut #luca x you #luca the bear x you #will poulter x you #the bear one shot #will poulter fic #luca one shot

[loveforcarmen]

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙏𝙀 𝙏𝙀𝙀

- carmen berzatto has an unexpected visitor at his apartment late at night.

carmen berzatto x oc!coworker | • one shot

NOTE: im turning this into a series on here and my wattpad (@littlesadcowgirl)

- carmen opened the door to find sloppy eyed margaret, “maggie” as he called her, standing outside of his apartment.

“you lost?” he stood there with a blank expression on his face.

she sighed before answering, “i don’t have time for your sarcasm, carmen.” margaret rubbed her temples in an attempt to ward off an incoming migraine.

“where you coming from?” carmen asked, glancing at her outfit. margaret wore a small, black mini dress paired with a pair of red, heeled boots. he stood slightly annoyed as she took her time to answer.

“a party.” she motioned to her outfit, “was it not obvious?” she did a small twirl, but almost tripped due to the alcohol in her system.

“yeah, you’re right. it was obvious.” carmen agreed, not wanting to deal with a drunk woman right now.

margaret’s smile suddenly dropped before she spoke, “my friends ditched me.” she could feel herself getting upset and started to pick at her fingernail subconsciously.

there was a long pause between the 2 before carmen sighed, stepping to the side. margaret mouthed the words, “thank you”, as she walked in. carmen nodded his head, kicking the door closed with his foot.

margaret began to put her things on the coffee table in front of the couch, neatly arranging her bag and coat.

“you can sleep in my bed. i’ll take the couch.” he said, leaning against the counter.

“i couldn’t ask that of you.” her lip pointed downwards

“i offered, it’s no big deal.” carmen dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

he motioned for margaret to follow him down the hall and to the room. as she trailed behind him, she noticed that he absolutely no decor on his walls. no pictures, paintings, nothing.

“you can set your stuff down, i’ll get you a change of clothes for the night.” carmen pointed to the bed, as he walked to his dresser.

“yes chef.” margaret joked, but immediately wished she could swallow her words. why the hell would she say that?

carmen was glad his back was turned because her stupid comment almost got a genuine smile out of him.

he dug through his drawer and eventually settled on a pair of boxers and one of his many white t-shirts. he turned around and handed the clothes to margaret.

she raised an eyebrow, holding up the boxers. carmen gave a playful eye roll, “they’re clean.”

he pointed to the door on their right, “bathroom is over there. i’ll be making the bed so holler if you need something, ok?”

margaret nodded her head with a soft smile then turned on her heel to leave. carmen kept his eyes trained on her for even a second, then went back to his bed-making duties.

margaret changed quickly in the bathroom, folding her dress and neatly setting it to the side with her boots.

carmen knocked on the door with a sharp *rapp* of his knuckles. “yo, you good in there…” he paused waiting for her to answer.

she opened the door quickly, catching carmen off guard. “yep.” she said, smoothing the white tee down.

carmen felt a pit forming in his stomach at the sight of margaret in one of his beloved white tees. he cleared his throat to clear his feelings, “um the bed is made. i set your bag and coat to the side on the nightstand.”

“thanks carmen.” she replied, getting into bed immediately.

“yeah no problem..” he trailed off.

he scratched his head tousling his dirty blonde curls, “i’ll go get you a glass of water.” he excused himself and went to the kitchen.

he returned quickly with the glass of water, setting it down gently. margaret looked up at him, appreciating his kindness, which was not often shown especially in the kitchen.

“thank you carmen, truly.”

“don’t mention it.”

he rubbed the back of his neck before adding, “if you need to puke, please run to bathroom”

margaret let out a soft laugh, “got’cha.” she winked. carmen nodded his head then began to walk out of the room.

he turned around, walking back to the bedside. margaret looked over at him, confused. “roll over on your side.” he said.

“why?”

“i don’t need you to drown in your own puke, smartass.” he answered, helping her roll over on her side. “there ya go.” he situated the blanket so it was comfortable on her.

margaret gave him a thumbs up, looking at him through her half-lidded eyes. he returned the thumbs up, walking to the doorway of the bedroom.

“goodnight carmy.” margaret whispered.

carmen flicked the light off, “goodnight maggie.” he closed the door and went to prepare the couch for the night.

SOMETIME IN THE EARLY MORNING

carmen woke up to the usually brigade of bad dreams that plagued him every night. he got up to get himself a glass of water, making sure to walk quietly since margaret was sleeping just down the hall.

he filled his cup up, downing it and filling it up again. he set it down, then made his way to margaret’s room. he quietly opened the door, the hinges making a slight *creak*

margret stirred but did not wake up. he grabbed her glass then left the room to fill it up. as he waited for it to fill up, he ran his fingers through his curls out of habit. a stress habit. why was he stressed about her being here?

he faded back into reality at the sight of the glass overflowing, the water trickling into the sink. he groaned, shutting off the sink and drying his hand.

he grabbed the glass, then returned back to the bedroom. he gently set the glass down then looked at margaret once before he left.

her lips were slightly parted as she peacefully slept. she was still on her side. good girl, he thought. she clutched the blanket tightly with her fist, pulling it to her chest while in her sleep.

carmen turned to leave when he stubbed his toe on the nightstand, causing a picture frame to fall over that was resting on the nightstand.

“fuck.” he said under his breath, grabbing his foot and squeezing it.

“carmen?” margaret mumbled, slowly waking up.

carmen let out a strained “yeah” in response as he held his foot. margaret smiled at him, even though he couldn’t see it in the darkness of the room.

“what are you doing?” she asked, sitting up.

carmen let out a big sigh before answer, his toe still throbbing, “i was refilling your water.”

“oh, alright.” she gave a curt nod, still knowing he couldn’t really see her.

“yup.”

her nose stung as she began to speak, a sign that she was tearing up. “i just wanted to thank you again for just being nice to me tonight.” her glossy eyes flicked to carmen’s silhouette.

“hey hey, it’s fine. it’s really no big deal.” he reassured her quickly, “i don’t know why you’re getting emotional.”

“cause i’m drunk.” she said bluntly, throwing her hands up. she paused again before speaking, “you’re just so…” she paused again.

carmen hung onto her last words, waiting for what she had to say.

“just so…stern.” she said, laying back down. “i’m not used to seeing ‘nice carmen’ ever. even outside of the kitchen.” carmen heard her lay back down and took that as his que to leave.

“it’s my job to be stern. compare what i’ve done to what you’ve done. i don’t mean it in an insulting way but just an observation.” he tried to give a light chuckle to lighten up the mood but he instantly regretted his word choice as it came out of his mouth.

“wow.” margaret said quietly as she turned back to her side.

carmen wanted to opened his mouth to fix the damage he’d unintentionally caused but it stayed shut.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that, maggie.” he finally said as he quietly retreated from the room and back to the couch.

he huffed as he sat back down and readjusted the blanket. “why the fuck would you say that?” he scolded to himself.

-

NOTE: this is my first time writing so please let me know what you liked and where i need to improve!! thank you!

much love,

marlowe

#the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #the bear fandom #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto headcanons #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto one shot #oneshot #the bear one shot #hulu #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x fem!reader #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto one shot #carmy x nyc chef

[mayfieldss]

Girl dinner - Carmen Berzatto

Content Warnings: THIS IS MY MEAL. I CALL IT GIRL DINNER ✨️GIRLLLL DINNNER✨️

Inspired by this post I saw by @thebearer (i hope you don't mind me adding to the concept)

"What the fuck is girl dinner?" Carmy sounds more than frustrated, and confused as he stares down at you, sat comfortably on the couch with your choice of meal. It's an apalling assortment of things from his point of view, though your wide smile shows you think the opposite.

"This is girl dinner." You wave down at your food before stabbing a fork into the meal, eyes drifting to the tv.

"No, no, no, I can't let you eat that." Carmy seems a little distraught as you make eye contact with him, putting more of the dish you prepared into your mouth, chewing slowly as though to make the point 'but I'm eating it anyway.'

"Fuck, please stop with the girl dinner." You love how he's adopted the phrase himself, reaching down to pull the plate away from you, though you dodge him well.

"You eat peanut butter and Jelly for dinner almost five nights a week, so don't you dare scold me for this!" You're defensive as you stand with your plate, still spooning the disaster into your mouth. It doesn't taste as good as anything Carmy would make for you, but you're stubborn.

"At least that has substance, just let me make you something—Jesus stop eating it! There's no way that's nutritious at all!"

"Fuck nutrition!" You shout back, sounding almost like a child in your defiance.

"Fuck girl dinner!" Carmy counters expertly, though there's a hint of a laugh within his words. In the phrase coming from both his lips and your own, he finds a sort of hilarity, though the point he's trying to make is a genuine one.

"But I love girl dinner." You raise your brows as if that's the perfect blow, the one that will win you the fight, despite the statements lack of foundation.

"Well, I love you, and I can't let you eat cheese string and oreos—is that a slice of fucking orange?"

"What could you make that's better than this?" It's a stupid question, and one you know that answer to as you gesture down at the plate with one hand.

"Anything, fucking anything!" Carmy runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. "What d'you want, I'll make you something, anything, just stop with girl dinner."

You take the slice of orange and bite into it, eyes locked on Carmen's. "The point of tonight's girl dinner is that I don't want to cook, and I also don't want you to cook."

"That's my fucking job."

"Exactly, you spend all day cooking, i don't want you to have to come home and cook for me too." Your voice is softer now, sweet and soothing, Carmy letting out a sigh at the sound of it.

He moves forward, taking the plate from you and placing it on the stool beside the couch. "Look, I don't mind. I don't mind making you something every once'n a while. You deal with all my shit all the fucking time, it's the least I can do." He takes your hands in his own, pressing his forehead to yours. "Just let me make you something."

"You're ruining the point of girl dinner." You mumble, pressing a short kiss to his lips as Carmy's hands run soothingly up and down your arms.

"Don't care." His mutters back, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen, your other meal long abandoned on the stool to be disposed of later.

Days pass, Carmy is still thinking about it, and when he gets to work, he has to say something to the others. "Caught my girlfriend eating fucking orange slices and oreos for dinner the other night." He mutters whilst searing a steak in prep for a menu change. He glimpes Sydney nodding, and as Fak moves behind him, the man decides to speak.

"Girl dinner, good for her."

Carmy turns so fast to face the man that he almost sets his shirt alight on the element, thinking over the utter complexities of the term. "But what the fuck is girl dinner? How do you even know about–never mind."

"You know," Fak begins as Carmy runs a hand over his face in frustration, "this is my meal, I call this girl dinner" He's reciting something though Carmen has no clue where this is going, and when Fak starts singing it all seems to get worse.

He's repeating the phrase, and yet it still means nothing to Carmy as he moves away, leaving Fak to harmonize with Sydney as he picks up the phone.

Pressing call on your contact is like muscle memory, and the sound of the first few rings leaves him impatient, though you pick up eventually.

"Hey," he mutters into the phone, listening to your voice as you parrot the word back.

"Hey, what's up?" You sound preoccupied, and Carmy swears he can hear the closing of a cupboard door, the rustling of a packet of chips.

"Uh, nothing, I just... I wanted to call and ask if you're all good for dinner tonight." He's closed his eyes, leaning against the door of his office as the quiet settles over him. "D'you need anything?"

You answer almost too fast, suspicion creeping through the line with its grasp on your voice. "No, no, I'm good. Dinner's all good."

Carmy catches the tone, a small amused smile wriggling upon his lips. "Cool, so uh, what're you having?" He scared of the answer, if you decide to be honest—which you don't.

"I was thinking tacos, maybe, I haven't decided."

"Nice," Carmy chuckles, "so none of that girl dinner shit? No orange slices and string cheese?" Carmy can almost picture it as the words come to mind, the plate of horrors he'd witnessed not a week before. There's silence over the phone, and Carmy can hear you heave a sigh, loud and final, as you come to terms with your lie. You don't say anything, though, so Carmy fills the space.

"I'm coming home t'night," he whispers into the receiver, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he adjusts his apron. "Me, you and the tacos, okay?"

His voice is so gentle, the affection dripping from the words like honey, and he's truly never spoken to someone with as much care. It scares him sometimes, just how much he loves you.

"Carmy, I make the worst fucking tacos." Your smile is hidden within the sentence, and it reaches Carmy like a wave washing the sand, though you're so far from him right now.

"Yeah, I uh, I know. That's why I'm cooking." The kitchen is starting to get loud outside Carmy's office door, and he knows he has to get out there soon to save whatever is left of the peace.

"You don't have to do that, Carm," you exhale, and he can almost picture you, leaning against the kitchen bench, strands of hair loose that, if he was with you, he would be dying to push back into place.

"I want to." He means it, the words he says. "You're important to me, and I want you to know that. I do."

Carmy doesn't know it, but you're grinning on the other end of the line, blood rushing to your cheeks at the thought of his affection. His love.

"Okay." You whisper, "you're important to me too, Carm."

That means everything to Carmy, and he's so desperate to hold onto this, so desperate to not mess this all up. Not after Claire.

"I love you." It's unusual for him to say it first, but he does this time, and his voice soothes any stress you might have. He can hear you smile when you speak again and knows he'll be thinking about the sound of your words for the rest of the day.

"Love you too, bear, see you tonight."

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @live-love-be-unique

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto drabble #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x fem!reader #carmy the bear #sydney adamu #neil fak #the bear imagines #the bear imagine

[satorustyles]

you can't fall asleep (sukuna x reader one shot)

pairing: sukuna x reader

warnings: none, just so much fluff! and soft sukuna, maybe? he's just not the typical angry and super duper evil dude in this one.

word count: 1,512

GOJO VERSION OF THIS ONE SHOT HERE!

NANAMI VERSION OF THIS ONE SHOT HERE!

It was game night.

It's the one night of the week when you, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara gather in the living room for an endless evening of video games. The PS5 was a present given to the four of you from your ever-loving, mostly annoying sensei Gojo Satoru last Christmas. Since then, it was tradition for the four of you to spend an evening together, with pizza and burgers and a shameless amount of slander against each other.

But tonight was different.

You won't be able to join them because you're sick. Headaches. Nausea. Dry coughs and the flu. It was all because of the most recent mission you've been on alone, and it already took its toll on you. Your three friends insisted on moving game night to a different date, but you didn't want them to postpone further. You've been sick for three days already, and for three nights, they adjusted for you. Tomorrow was the start of a new week, meaning you could likely end your streak of having weekly game nights. And you didn't want that.

"Guys, it's just one night. I won't die if I miss one." You told them with a shaky laugh, the cough in your lungs threatening to bark its way out your throat with every huff of your breath.

"y/n," Yuuji started as he walked over to your weak body on your bed, patting your shoulder gently. He had the most serious, determined look on his face. "I'll win this for you."

You smiled at how adorable he was and decided to play along. "Thank you, Yuuji. You're my hero."

The evening stretched on, and as you stayed on your bed, your friends yelled over each other in triumph and defeat, followed by loud laughs that would jerk you awake. Your head pounded at the loud sounds coming from the living room. Despite the closed door, you could still clearly make out their voices and their stomping across the wooden floor.

It only made your head hurt more.

But you didn't have the heart to get out of bed and ask them to be a little quieter. It's been a long week for everyone, not only for you. Megumi and Yuuji completed a mission before you, and Nobara was sent to accompany Toge after your expedition. It was a busy week for all of you, and game night was a way of easing everyone from their exhaustion.

"Megumi you prick!" Nobara shrieked, and your head pounded at the high-pitched tone. "I'm going to fucking kill you on the next round!"

You sighed to yourself, massaging your temples while your other hand struggled to pull your blanket closer to your chest. It was freezing. Your socks and the thick covers didn't help your case at all.

"That's how a game works, you loser!" Megumi shot back just as loudly. Then thuds. You could picture the two of them on the floor strangling each other.

Oh how you love them so much.

"Shut up, you brats!"

Your heart stopped. Silence followed after the sudden and unexpected outburst.

Despite your current state, it didn't take long for you to recognize Sukuna's voice coming from Yuuji's body. He seemed to have taken over while the other two were arguing.

Considering the abrupt silence, Megumi and Nobara must have also been shocked. The only sound that could be heard was the background music that still played on the screen.

"Not even an ounce of consideration for your poor comrade. Even an old man and a newborn baby would startle awake by your gaudiness!"

Your heart hammered against your chest when you realized that Sukuna was talking about you. Then, footsteps padded across the floor before your door was opened, and you froze in your place, closing your eyes and hoping that your breathing didn't sound too erratic.

"Just cut the act. I know you're awake." Sukuna mumbled next to you and you slightly flinched, surprised that he was immediately by your side. He turned your night lamp on, illuminating the darkness of the room.

You realized there was no point in even pretending. You sighed, opening your eyes and coming face to face with the King of Curses himself, his red eyes staring down at you and his lips curled in a slight smirk. 

"What do you want." You croaked out. Your throat was already dry.

"Here to help you," He replied nonchalantly as if it was the most normal thing to do. "It was about time that brat brought me out. Couldn't even think about helping or at least leaving you a glass of water."

As if on cue, he places a tall glass of water on your bedside table before gesturing for you to sit up. "Have a drink. I brought some painkillers."

You slowly sat up, leaned your back against the headboard and took a pill before popping it in your mouth. Sukuna then handed you the glass, and you were quick to gulp everything down in seconds. The liquid felt satisfying running down your dry throat.

"Thanks." You sighed. You then nodded at the door. "You can let Yuuji out now. I'm sure he wants to play more. You've done enough."

You didn't mean to sound like a jerk. Technically, you were still confused about where you stood with your—friendship? Relationship?—with Sukuna, after Yuuji has been teasing you that Sukuna wouldn't stop talking about you in his head when you first encountered him. He would find ways to take over Yuuji's body, even resorting to bribery and negotiation just to get himself out. He wouldn't admit it himself, but he's been so taken by you that he always craved your presence.

"The brat and I made a deal. He won't let me out for a week starting tomorrow if I could have an evening with you."

Your stomach fluttered. You tried to shrug it off as the occasional nausea that you felt, but deep down, you knew that you had a soft spot for the King of Curses as well.

"I—" You tried to say something after a moment's silence, but Sukuna was already up and going over to the other side of the bed. You could only stare up at him, dumbfounded.

"Move over a little, yeah?" He muttered quietly, and you found yourself obliging. You could only watch as he made himself comfortable next to you, the black markings on his face and shoulders more prominent underneath the light of your lamp. The tight black shirt that Yuuji wore emphasized the muscles on his arms and chest and you could feel the heat slowly creeping up to your neck. You were subconsciously imagining what it would be like if Sukuna had a body of his own.

It would be chaos for everyone.

For you.

"Come on now, don't be shy." Sukuna teased with an amused smile as he stretched one arm over your head, urging you to get closer to him. But you could only stare at him, still processing everything, asking yourself whether or not you had fallen asleep and were already dreaming.

He sighed in defeat before letting his arm wrap around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his body. He then took your arm and let it rest across his stomach, guiding your head to rest on his chest.

"Better?" He whispered. In fact, it was better. The warmth radiating off his body helped alleviate the coldness you felt, and he also took the liberty of pulling the covers above the two of you.

You felt rigid against him and you knew that he thought it as well.

"Come on, you little brat," He sighed, but he sounded fond and soft, unlike his usual, annoyed tone. "Relax yourself. I'm not going to bite you. Unless you want me to, of course..."

He received a weak slap across his stomach and laughed lightly, taking advantage of hugging you closer to him. He let his longer legs intertwine with yours, exuding warmth down your feet and ankles. His hand then reached up to run his fingers through your hair, softly massaging your scalp while his other hand held onto your arm and kept you from pulling away from him.

You've never felt so relaxed tonight. Everything felt so much better, warmer, cozier...

You were finally dozing off, happy that your body found the comfort and peace it sought hours ago. You couldn't even bring yourself to feel so reserved around Sukuna anymore, and you found yourself nuzzling closer to him, rubbing your cheek against his chest.

"Thank you," You mumbled sleepily, your hand sliding underneath his shirt and feeling the warmth of his stomach on your trembling palm. He just exudes so. Much. Warmth.

You felt his lips on your forehead, keeping it there for a long time. His hand rested above yours, just outside the cloth of his shirt.

"Sleep, my darling." He whispered against your skin. "Recover. I'll keep a look out for you tonight."

It was safe to say that you didn't want the evening to end. 

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna one shot #sukuna fluff #sukuna au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #bear writes

[shewrites7]

The First Step

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary - The first thing you do when you get back to your hometown of Chicago is pay Carmen, your oldest friend and maybe more than that, a visit at The Beef. When you land yourself a job there, the more he sees of you, the more he seems to push you away for reasons he isn't yet brave enough to tell you, even if all he wants is to be with you. But if he'd ever known you, he'd know that you weren't going to back down without a fight.

type - one shot (its a long one)

word count [16.6k]

tags: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, slight miscommunication, a little angst, "stop pushing me away", hurt/comfort, and new promises.

warnings: swearing, mentions of grief/death, panic attack

a/n: check this out also on my ao3! <33

Carmen was tired, to say the least. He'd been working himself to the bone every damn day for the past few months, trying to get The Beef to a good, stable place. Somehow, as time went by, he'd only managed to dig himself a deeper grave. With the money they owed to Cicero, he knew, deep down, that the restaurant was, for lack of a better word, fucked.

But he kept holding on. He couldn't let go of it. He'd wonder, in the depths of night, why he was fighting so hard for this place when he could easily sell it to Cicero. If, maybe, he was holding onto someone. He didn't amuse the thought. He physically couldn't.

So he threw himself deeper into his work. Deeper into making The Beef a reputable place, with a professional working staff and high-quality food. It didn't matter that the others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He didn't have the time to worry about that. He didn't have time for much of anything, which is why Sydney had been pushing for new hires. She'd said that they needed more hands in the kitchen, more workers up front, more of everything. They should be desperate.

That's why she'd spent hours putting up posters for new hires on what felt like practically every block of Chicago within a mile radius from the restaurant. And that's why you'd happened to stumble upon one of them while walking to a favorite pizza place of yours that you'd loved as a kid. It was one of the first things you'd planned on doing ever since you'd gotten back into the city. That and meeting up with some old friends who you'd missed with an ache in your chest. So, seeing the poster clinging to the utility pole saying that The Beef was hiring had your heart skip a little beat at the prospect of not only getting a job but seeing the people who had basically been your family growing up again.

It was a Friday morning when you'd stopped by The Beef, the rusted white sign sticking out like a sore thumb. A rush of aromas wafted against your nose when you walked in, and the front door made a jingling sound that was almost nostalgic.

No one was at the front register. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all, only hear some muffled voices coming from the kitchen in the back. The voices grew louder as seconds went by, and you could tell they were shouts. The kitchen door then flew open, finally revealing the argument going on between two people, one being an unfamiliar woman in an apron, and the other being none other than Richie Jerimovich.

"Richie, I swear to God-"

"I already told you," came the booming voice of Richie, neither of them noticing your presence at the door. "Your foo foo plans for this place are not gonna fly, Sweetheart!"

With the way Richie was talking to her, you could see the woman's patience wearing thin as she rested a hand on her temple with shut eyes as he carried on. It was only when she reopened her eyes a few moments later that she noticed your presence.

"Hi," you said, making your way over to her. "I saw your poster, the one about looking for new hires-"

"Right, right." She offered a strained smile, stress seeming to stay with her. "I'm Sydney, you must be one of the job applicants?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"A job applicant?" Richie's voice boomed through the room, his voice always projecting ten times louder than need be. You had to admit, you missed it. "F that bullshit, that's fucking Mars Bar!"

Sydney's eyebrows lowered at the shouted nickname, the one that the Berzattos had gifted you years ago after your favorite candy as a kid. You granted Richie a smile, him finally noticing you. "Nice to see you too, Richie."

He marched around the counter to engulf you in a bear-like hug that had you letting out a chuckled gasp from the impact, arms wrapping tightly around your back. He let go in a beat and slammed his hands down on the counter in excitement, always loud.

"Just wait till Carmy hears about his favorite girl being back, I swear to God."

Something fluttered through you at the mention of that name. Carmen's name. With a whirlwind of thoughts sifting through your mind, you almost missed the other name that Richie had called you, aside from Mars Bar. Carmy's favorite girl.

-----

Richie had barged into the kitchen with full vigor, slamming open the swinging door dangerously close to a nearby Tina.

"Cousin!" He moved through the different chefs' stations until he got to Carmen's, who was wrapped up in prepping and quite frankly had learned to tune out the sound of Richie's yelling for his own health. "Yo, Cousin!"

Richie boisterously grabbed a hold of Carmen's shoulders, rocking him a little and moving his hand that wielded a knife, cutting diagonally into beef he'd been pre-slicing.

"Shit," Carmen cursed, irritation forming. "What the hell is it, Cousin?"

Richie just laughed, a mind never paid to Carmen's annoyance. "Yea, you're pissed at me now, Carmy, but you're gonna think I'm pulling your dick when I tell you who's at the fucking register right now."

With a forever-present dull headache, Carmen sighed and shifted his focus to him, putting down his knife on the counter. He gestured a hand out to him. "Who's at the register, Rich-"

"The fucking love of your life, that's who!"

Richie gave Carmen a playful punch in the arm, but he remained unphased, a frown etched on his features. "See, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a love of my-"

"Two words, Cousin. Mars Bar."

Richie was right. Those two words really did do something to him.

"She- ... she's here?"

He rubbed his jaw, brain short-circuiting for a second as he tried to make sense of Richie's words. His eyes bore into Richie's never-serious ones, trying to grasp onto whether or not he was, just this one time. If he was messing with him, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.

"Yes, bro!" Yelled Richie, patting him on the back. "I swear to you. She's here, and hot as balls, too."

He squinted his eyes at him with a twinge of disgust, slightly shoving him to the side to get towards the door. He still didn't know if he believed it. You'd been traveling abroad on some grant that he, to be honest, didn't know much about. But you were doing great things. He couldn't guess why you'd come back to The Beef, of all places.

When he saw you through the window, he was lucky he was hidden behind the safety of the kitchen door because he couldn't control the way his body and mind froze at the sight of you. He took in the way your smile beamed out into the room as you spoke with Sydney, warm and unignorable, and he could've sworn something changed in the chemical makeup of his brain. Something that had his eyes widening and his feet planted in their place.

"What'd I tell you?" Richie's voice from behind him knocked him out of his trance. There was a smug, amused edge to his voice. "Now go and talk to her."

Carmen put a hand out, shooing him away. "I will. I just," he stopped, trailing off as he took in the way you truly seemed to glow after all the time spent away. He liked how it looked on you.

"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous now, Carm." Richie put his arms on Carmen's shoulders.

"Shut the fuck up." He shoved Richie off of him with a grimace, but his eyes never left you, jaw clenching as he followed your movements. "I'm not."

The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He ignored the feeling, determined, and took in a breath before opening the kitchen door to the front of the restaurant, to where you stood.

At the sound of the door swinging open you finally turned your attention to him, lips coming to part with a subtle inhale that somehow left you feeling breathless.

"Carmen." You said his name with a grin, eyes lighting up, heart picking up its pace in your chest. You ran over for a quick, thoughtless hug that left his body partly on fire when you pulled away just as fast.

"Mars Bar." He uttered the old nickname endearingly, his voice cracking at the end of his words for some reason. He cleared his throat. "You're uh- you're here. In Chicago."

"Woah," Richie interrupted, coming in from behind, boisterous. "We've got a genius in The Beef, everybody!"

Sydney snorted from somewhere in the distance, but you couldn't even laugh because you'd been too busy staring at the way Carmen ran his hand through his golden hair that had been unruly since you were practically kids and still was.

"Yeah," you breathed, cringing at how awkward your voice sounded to your own ears. "I'm here."

The two of you held onto each other's gazes for a beat too long, scanning over the other wordlessly, taking in the changes that the years apart had brought.

"Well, uh," Carmen started, licking his lip to find strings of coherent words. "Do you wanna come into the office? Catch up?"

You nodded with a pleased tug of your lips. "Yeah, sure Carmen."

He nodded too and led the way, arm delicately resting on your upper back for a second in a way that left his fingertips buzzing, alive.

You entered the room after he did, the desk and walls littered with papers and sticky notes of different colors, an overload to the senses. It was stuffy, even with the door left open.

Before he turned to face you, he clumsily sorted some papers that'd been sitting on a wooden chair into stacks and pushed them onto the highest shelf above his desk so you could sit down, his white t-shirt slightly tugging upwards as he reached. Your eyes subtly followed the movement, eyes glancing steadily over a part of his lower abdomen that you felt alarmed at even sneaking a peak. That and the muscles that showed clearly from the short sleeves of his shirt.

God, you'd only been back in Chicago for a few days and your mind was already doing that thing it always did when you were around Carmen, like it didn't have the ability to think straight or act rationally when he was around.

"So, uh," Carmen started, turning his focus back to being one hundred percent on you. It became hard to concentrate when he did that, because he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen and you found over the years that they'd always had more than just one emotion swimming around in them. As you looked into them now, you still came up short in identifying them.

"What are you doing back in Chicago?" He looked at you like you were a puzzle, one he couldn't give up on solving. "Did the studies abroad finally start to bore you?"

"Yeah, they did," you joked, looking down at your lap. "Not really much to do in Europe compared to this place, you know?"

Carmen let out a wisp of a laugh, nodding, while also noting somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he'd laughed in at least a few days. Your presence could always do that to him; Put him at ease when nothing else truly could.

"And, of course, I could only go so long being separated from the Berzattos."

He laughed again. That made twice. "Oh yeah?"

You nodded, playful in your words.

"I mean it." You did.

You let a comfortable silence nestle between the two of you, feeling the upward tug of your lips that you could only blame on Carmen. The thought left something alighted in your chest

"Seriously though." You say up a little straighter in your seat. "I guess the real reason I stopped by was because I was wondering if I could help out around here for a little while, now that I'm back home."

At this, the smile that had been resting on Carmen's face began to weaken.

"What?" His forehead creased, eyes dancing across your face with curiosity and disguised panic of his own.

Sensing his change in mood, you hurriedly continued. "I'll be home for a while and, you know, I just figured me getting a job here would be convenient and-"

"No."

You stopped mid-sentence, zeroing in on the man before you. "No?"

He had one hand leaning against the desk, the other's fingertips pressed to his forehead, head cast down, eyes evading yours.

"No, I- I'm sorry, Mars. We're ... we're not hiring right now. We don't need any new workers." At that, you frowned, taking in the tension in Carmen's stance and the tightness in his voice.

"I know The Beef is hiring right now, Carm." You gave him a disbelieving look. "In fact, I got the idea to work here from the flyers Sydney put up everywhere, so don't try and tell me you're not looking for new job applicants." You took a step closer to him, sensing something wrong and confused as to why he would lie, but he only seemed to be growing more agitated, shifting his posture upwards and no longer leaning on the table.

"That was a mistake, alright? I didn't ask her to do that. The Beef is doing perfectly fine, we don't need any extra help." Something sour was rotting in the undertones of his voice, the way he said the word help as if the thought of it was repellent.

"I didn't mean anything by asking. I ... I know you guys are doing fine, probably great even, I was just thinking that maybe I could-"

"We don't need any new fucking hires, Mars." He slammed his hand down on the desk, his tone raising so abruptly that it had you taking a step back in surprise.

When you looked up at him with alarm in your eyes, immediately his eyes began to soften, regret flooding through them. You held his gaze until those same eyes became taken over with this sudden guilt, almost sadness, flickering downwards towards his hands that moved to rest on his office desk, away from you.

You took a second to scan over the desk that was littered with papers and unsigned documents. It wasn't like Carmen to be unorganized, you knew that much. He had to be in a bad place to have his office look like this. Or, rather, Mikey's old office.

The room was a sensory overload, every inch of it a reminder of Mikey. Anyone would go crazy spending their days in here. Especially if that someone had been his little brother.

Carmen rubbed his hands over his face. You took a step next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder that lit aflame from the heat he gave off.

"For what it's worth," you started softly, and Carmen had to fight a shiver at how close your voice was to him. "I miss Mikey too."

He didn't make any movement to turn towards you, his jaw clenched and eyes still staring downwards. He didn't know what made you feel like you had to say that to him. He didn't need to look at you, though, to know you truly meant it.

"You can't work here," he said, his voice sounding defeated and a little far away. "I'm sorry."

Something restless in your heart was determined to make you fight back, figure out why Carmen was refusing you without a good reason. But something else inside of you softened at the way Carmen wouldn't meet your eyes, seeming guilt-stricken, and decided to back down. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder gave him a final squeeze.

You took your leave for the office door without Carmen moving an inch.

"Bye, Carm." Your voice was unfairly soft towards him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness that thrummed from your heart. "It was nice seeing you." You paused. "I've missed you."

Before he could turn to say goodbye, somehow communicate the 'I've missed you too' that he'd been meaning to express since he'd seen you, you had already turned down the hallway, out of sight. He knew for sure, then, that you didn't deserve that response from him. But he just didn't know how to tell you. How to explain without sounding ridiculous why alarms sounded in his brain at the thought of you working at The Beef.

He'd always known that you were destined for more than just the life you'd shared with him as kids, where you scored straight A's and were one of the top in your class. When you'd left for college while he stayed put, he didn't even let himself miss you, because he'd just wanted what was best for you. And when you furthered your studies even after college, traveling abroad, he knew that was the life you were meant for. To see you stopping all of that to work at The Beef, the place where his brother's dreams had become nothing but dead ends as time went on, wouldn't settle right inside of him.

Worst of all, he had visions of you working in the kitchen, behind the scenes where tensions were constantly overwhelming, of him losing his cool in front of you and you seeing a side of him he tried to keep you far away from. You'd always known the youngest brother Carmy, the world-class chef Carmy, the one who was at his best around you. He couldn't imagine what he would do if suddenly he revealed the Carmy he tried to hide; the Carmy who worked at The Beef, a bundle of unstable frustration who was barely hanging on, the Carmy who still didn't know how to live life without Mikey but who melted from your touch, who wanted more from the girl who'd been at his side for so many years as nothing but a friend, and a great one. He couldn't risk losing that.

Especially not with the condition of The Beef at the moment, which needed his full focus. Having you around would definitely not allow for that. So he convinced himself that this was for your own good. For his own good.

When you rounded the corner back out into the front of the restaurant, Richie was still there behind the counter, holding a phone to his ear.

You smiled at him a little tiredly and silently waved goodbye, walking towards the door.

Richie frowned, removing his focus from the phone call. "Where the hell are you leaving to so fast?" You spun around. "Don't tell me Carmy scared you off already."

You laughed awkwardly and thought of what to say, but must have taken too long to answer because Richie's face was already contorting with an over-the-top grimace.

"What'd that moron say to you, huh?"

You put a hand out, trying to calm him. "Richie, it's nothing, really-"

He was already stalking off towards the office, muttering something about 'killing Carmen'. You shook your head to yourself, because you knew how headstrong both of them were, and turned towards the exit. And, as you finally opened the glass door to leave, you could hear yelling and shouted vulgar words coming from the office. You didn't stay long enough to listen.

You didn't know what to think when it happened. You'd been sitting at home all weekend, alone, and honestly truly bored and wondering if coming back home was the right choice when your phone started ringing. You checked the screen and it was an unknown caller, but boredom had you picking it up anyway.

Mars Bar!

"Hello? Who is this?"

It's me.

"..."

Richie.

"Ohh ... right. How did you get my number again?"

I asked around. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be telling you that you're gonna start work tomorrow.

"What? Start work? Where?"

At The Beef. C'mon Mars catch up with me here.

"Sorry, I'm just ... confused. Carmen told me you guys weren't hiring and that he couldn't give me a job?"

Oh, that. Don't worry about Carmy. I set that moron straight.

"What are you saying?"

I'm saying, you got the job kid!

"Richie, are you fucking with me right now?"

No! Why does everyone always think I'm fucking with them? I'm fucking serious hon.

"Okay, okay! I ... I believe you. I think."

You better! Carmy is really fucking stoked to have you work here, I mean it.

"He ... he is?"

Sure! So I better see your ass Monday morning, capeesh?

"Y-yea I guess so."

Your heart really should not have fluttered the way it did when Richie told you that Carmen was supposedly excited to see you. He hadn't sounded like it when you'd brought it up to him. In fact, he seemed strangely opposed to the idea, like you'd hit a sensitive area.

You weren't sure if you could really believe Richie. Like you'd always known, Carmen was stubborn as hell. The change of heart was unexpected, to say the least. You didn't know what to think. You still didn't know, as you walked through the front entrance of The Beef the next day, ready to start work. The only person to greet you at the front was Richie, standing behind the counter, per usual.

"Cousin!" He gestured you over. You greeted him back and rounded the corner to stand behind the counter next to him, unused to the feeling after spending years on the other side of it.

Richie spent at most two minutes giving you a rundown of what you'd be doing at The Beef, merely distracted by some yelling in the kitchen. The brief directions consisted mostly of taking orders and ringing a bell. A real challenge.

"Yeah, so that's basically it." He gave you a pat on the back and your front almost hit the counter at the impact.

"No paperwork or formalities or anything?" You were almost suspicious of the fast speed at which this had all happened. Richie whipped his head around like you'd stated something crazy.

"Formalities? C'mon, what are we, the fucking White House? This is a family business, Cousin."

He patted you on the shoulder roughly. "Thanks, Richie," you said, both slightly amused and slightly unnerved. You tapped your fingers on the marble countertop, trying to seem casual. "Where's um ... where's Carmy?"

Richie scratched his head. "He's, uh, he's busy. He'll be out soon. Don't you worry, shortcake." He gave you a wink that you didn't know what to do with and turned back towards the kitchen. You were gonna have to talk to him about those nicknames in the workplace sooner or later.

You called out to him before he left into the kitchen, hesitant. "You're sure Carmen said he wants me to work here, right?"

Your eyes bore into Richie's for a moment, and it was almost like you could see the thoughts in his head visibly swarming about. His shoulder raised. "Well, he didn't exactly say he wanted you to, but anyone with fucking eyes can see that he wants you-"

"Richie!" Your jaw hung open in utter annoyance and bafflement. He frowned at you.

"What?"

You almost scoffed. "Did Carmen really not say it was okay for me to work here?" You looked around, bewildered. "Does he even know I'm here?"

Richie gestured his hands out to you. "Sure he does!"

You could tell just from his tone what your answer was. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head to yourself. "I'm going in there to talk to him."

"No!" Richie's eyes widened. "No. Just calm down, and I'll talk to him."

You stared at him disbelievingly. He stared back at you challengingly with the confidence only Richie could have. "I'll be back in no time. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

Richie didn't know what he was planning on doing when he opened the door to the kitchen in search of Carmen. He just hoped he wasn't using a knife when he found him.

He turned a few corners before Carmen was in his line of view, hunched over the counter as he worked busily on something Richie couldn't see. He leaned against the counter next to him, watching Carmen as his focus didn't even falter.

"Carm."

He didn't get a reply, just the back of Carmen's head as he focused on reading the piece of paper in front of him, hand braced against the shining surface it lay on.

"Carmy."

The man in question slowly shifted his focus to the man next to him, whose distracting presence had become impossible to ignore. "What? What is it?"

Richie peered down at him. "Promise that you won't get mad."

Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you do?"

"Just promise me you won't fucking blow up at me like you always do."

"Why would I promise that if I don't even know what the hell you did?"

Richie tipped his head back exasperatedly. "Just say you promise!"

"I fucking promise! Okay?" Carmen ran a hand through his hair, moving it again to cross his arms. "Now, what is it?"

Richie paused, kicking out his foot and casually peering down at it with feigned interest. "Mars Bar is outside right now. Again."

Carmen's forehead creased and he looked over at Richie with sudden alarm. "What? Why? Is she okay?"

Richie gave him a knowing look, smug for a moment. "Yeah, she's fine." He shrugged. "I just, um, might have given her a job here up at the register."

Carmen's face was unmoving, his tone raising with poorly hidden anger. "You what?"

"And I might've also told her you really wanted her to work here."

Carmen's eyes scanned Richie's sporadically like he couldn't process his words fast enough. "Wh- Why the fuck would you do that? I already told her no-"

"Yeah, and I told her yes. Because you're an idiot and I'm saving your ass. You're welcome!"

Carmen ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "For what? Fucking me over?"

"I did not fuck you over, Carm, I'm doing this for you!"

Carmen shook his head, anger bleeding its way through his mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I told you, Richie, I don't want her anywhere near this place. I- I thought that was understood."

"No, it was not fucking understood because it was a stupid idea." Carmen let out a scoff as Richie put his hands out to Carmen in a calming gesture. "This is a good thing, trust me."

Carmen sputtered. "How the fuck is it-"

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Carm!" Richie shouted, bravely putting a hand up in front of Carmen's face. He pointed his finger at him which Carmen regarded with annoyance. "You need to stop being a moron and pushing away every single fucking female that tries to come within ten feet of you, alright?"

Carmen's brows furrowed even further, confusion building alongside anger. "I really have no goddamn idea what your point is here, Richie, but this has nothing to do with-"

"Oh spare me, Cousin!" He shouted. "We all know you've had the hots for Mars Bar over there since you were kids, alright?"

Carmen's mouth clamped shut immediately at this, his breathing coming out in fumes. He shook his head back and forth.

"Is this what this whole fucking thing is about, you jagoff?"

"Woah woah woah!" Richie cut in. "I am not the jagoff here, Cousin. I'm helping you out!"

"Richie's right, Carm," cut in Fak from behind, appearing suddenly out of nowhere like he always seemed to.

"Shut the fuck up, Fak!" Carmen held his head in his hand, trying to grab hold of his temper that he could feel slipping out of control. He needed to breathe.

"She can't work here."

Richie raised his arms in a shrug. "Well, you're gonna have to go tell her that yourself."

"I fucking will."

Carmen stormed off towards the kitchen door, ready to tell you yet again that you had to leave, a daunting thought overlooked thanks to adrenaline. Richie chuckled from behind him. "Yeah right, like you're gonna fire her."

Carmen didn't let himself listen to Richie any longer. Fists clenched at his sides, he opened the door and there you were, standing there, looking confused and a little surprised with parted lips.

Richie came up from behind and patted him on the back. "Go on, Carm. Tell her."  You watched as Carmen's jaw clenched.

Carmen really wanted to tell you that you couldn't work here. That you had to go home. That you had to run far away from this place and go back to studying abroad and being more successful than any of them and all of that bullshit. Maybe it was because your eyes were shining a little too bright in the restaurant lighting, or that they looked a little too hopeful as they stared back at him with raised brows, waiting. But he didn't say anything of those things.

"You..." he started. Your eyebrows raised further. His palms suddenly became sweatier. He took a breath in.

"You, um," a beat passed. He licked his lip. "You're gonna need an apron."

Your eyes lit up even more if possible, and he thought his heart would give out. Then, you ran up and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he genuinely questioned if his brain had short-circuited because, by the time he came back to reality, you'd already pulled away and were practically jittering with excitement from in front of him.

"Thank you so much, Carm." Every time you smiled at him in that way he felt himself lose a bit of control. He didn't like the feeling. "You won't regret it."

He smiled back at you because he couldn't not. He wasn't so sure.

Carmen had given you your apron. When he'd handed it to you, you'd brushed fingers and your heart skipped a little beat at the contact. That had been the most eventful thing to occur within the next four days.

You'd done practically nothing at The Beef all week. There'd been a noticeable lack of customers coming into the restaurant to take orders, and those who did oftentimes came in just to see Richie, which had you leaning against the counter waiting and listening to their loud conversations with the man.

It felt like there was some sort of prank being played on you. Surely they wouldn't pay you money for doing absolutely nothing. All the waiting around doing close to nothing made you antsy, frustrated, and confused.

You'd been meaning to address this to Carmen, to ask what you were doing wrong, but getting a hold of him was near impossible. You'd seen so little of Carmen that you couldn't even be sure he came into work most days, the only confirmation being his shouts coming from the kitchen at the others. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you became jealous of them. You'd take Carmen shouting orders at you in the kitchen any day over him saying nothing to you at all. It almost felt like he was avoiding you.

It was a Thursday night, and the antsy feeling inside of you had you staying late at work that night, wiping down tables with an intense amount of fervor.

You'd thought you were the last one in The Beef. It'd been dark for hours, but you had nobody and nothing exciting waiting for you at home, so working a little extra couldn't hurt. And, if it made Carmen notice your position at The Beef at least a little bit, it would be worth it.

As your thoughts drifted to the man, something made a noise from the kitchen, and it became apparent to you that maybe you weren't the only one working late that night.

"Hello?" You'd said aloud, your voice slightly echoing in the vacant restaurant. No response was returned. You slowly went back to scrubbing down a table against the far wall from the kitchen door when it swung open, and there stood Carmen Berzatto in his patchwork wool jacket, looking like seeing you was the last thing he'd expected.

The sight was jarring to you for a number of reasons. You jumped up speedily and tucked the rag you'd been using to clean tables slightly behind you as if he hadn't already seen you using it.

"Mars Bar?" He said, the nickname falling easily from his lips like it was the only one he'd ever known you by. He eyed your tense stance.

"Hey, Carmen." Your smile was just as unnatural. His eyebrows pulled downward at you, eyes squinting and blinking confusedly in the dim lighting like he was fighting sleep.

"What are you doing here so late?" You nibbled at your own lip. Carmen, even from across the room, made sure to follow the movement. You noticed him eye the rag in your hands.

"I was just cleaning off some of the umm ... some of the tables." You didn't know why you sounded so embarrassed. You also didn't know what was going through Carmen's mind as he looked over you, and then over the spotless tables behind you.

"Wow," he began, running a hand through his hair. "You really didn't have to do all this. It's not ... it's not part of your job, you know?" A feeling bitter and stale simmered inside of you.

"I know." You stood up straighter. "Maybe I just wanted to.

You wanted to say more in the moment, tell him all of your frustrations, but you didn't. You just stared back at him and watched as he walked towards where you stood by the tables. You didn't move an inch.

His eyes surveyed the tops of the tables and he marveled at how clean they were. Not just clean, but almost sparkling, even in the low lighting that came from a single overhead lamp and the streetlights from outside.

"You did a great job, Chef."

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally. He'd never called you that before, though you'd heard the name from his lips aimed at others countless times. He noticed your reaction.

"What?" He asked, eyeing you curiously. He leaned back against the table next to you, his beautiful stare almost becoming a little too much for you after a long day. You shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just," you paused, "you've never called me that before."

His expression was slightly confused, slightly amused. "Well," he began, gaze shifting from the ground to you. "Now I do. You work here, don't you?"

The question settled uncomfortably in your chest, and you let out a laugh that sounded just as strained. "Hardly."

Carmen's eyebrows flashed downwards in a quick frown. "What do you mean 'hardly'?" You felt his eyes scanning your face, scanning you. "What's up?"

You went back to rubbing at the corner of a nearby table with your rag if only to distract yourself from Carmen's gaze and the petty way your words sounded coming from your lips.

"I mean," you began. "It feels like I haven't really done much of anything around here, you know?" When he didn't say anything back, you continued. "I've only taken a handful of customer's orders in the past couple of days. And, I know I'm not the best cook in the world but I could definitely help out in the kitchen with something. Maybe I could cut up some stuff, or prep it, or whatever you guys call it. Anything, really."

He didn't say anything right away, and you became horrified that you'd pushed his buttons too many times in the last week with your rants and that he'd finally send you on your way once and for all. Then, you heard something like a laugh come from him. You reeled back.

"Is something funny?" You asked, your tone uncharacteristically sour. He silenced his amusement and looked at you intently.

"You've always been such an overachiever, Mars."

You paused, then shook your head. "Oh please, we all know you're the ambitious one."

"No, not when we were kids," Carmen argued. "I was never great in school. You, on the other hand," he chuckled under his breath. "My mom would have me go check in on you whenever we hadn't heard from you on a night before a test. Make sure you weren't overdosing on coffee and pop."

You swore you could feel your heart beating in your chest at Carmen's revelation and the fondness in his voice.

"You know," Carmen began again, getting lost in memories. "I think my mom used to have this theory I'd marry you one day or something. Said you were the only girl who'd put up with my stubbornness."

Oh my God. Your head was spinning. Why was he saying this? He didn't know what the hell he was doing to you. Or your heartbeat, which was concerningly gaining speed. He never did.

All you could say was, "Oh?"

He laughed some more like this was something casual, something funny. You couldn't help but notice that forever present weight present in his eyes, though. Something he could never seem to shed.

"Yeah, well," Carmen began again, "my mother has also been mentally unstable for years, so." He jokingly trailed off, his voice dying in the silence, along with any butterflies you'd felt. You laughed quietly, even if laughing was the last thing you wanted to do when hearing that.

You felt like you were being suffocated. By him and his blue eyes and his dry, self-deprecating jokes and the small quirk of his lips. You were also getting restless because you'd started off trying to talk with Carmen about your job, and now were getting lost in the haze of your feelings for him which you decided were useless and would get you nowhere. You cast them aside the best you could and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Carmen," you said. His attention focused directly on you. "Did you listen to any of the things I said about working here?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he assured you. "Of course."

"So, will you take them into consideration? Let me do more, Carmen. I can do more."

There was a beat of silence. He fidgeted, like he did when he was a boy and couldn't focus in class, or when he was nervous around a girl he'd liked. Nervous around you.

He wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've given you anything you'd asked for just to see you happy. But he didn't know what the consequences of giving you a more important role at The Beef would achieve. What it might stop you from achieving. What it might do to him. So, he didn't say anything. Not anything direct.

"I know you can, Mars." He exhaled and then put his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We can talk about this more in the morning. Okay?"

His response was like a smack in the face. A sharp pain that left a dull ache. You let a breath out and tried to keep your face from revealing your stubborn frustration. You slowly nodded. "Okay."

Even if you tried to contain your emotions, Carmen could see it. He noticed it in the quick flare of your nostrils as you breathed, in the slight clench of your jaw. Stupidly, he asked, "Is that okay?"

You weren't looking at him. You were looking at your feet. You tapped your foot once. "Yes."

Even more stupidly, he asked, "Are you sure?"

You finally shifted your focus to him and he felt his own jaw clench at the way it sent a rush down his spine.

"Yeah, Carmen." That was the first time he didn't like the way you said his name.

"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder.

"Alright."

You lifted the rag from the table, stood there for a second, and walked towards the counter, where you wrung it out and slapped it down into a bucket full of other dirty rags, and left it there. You didn't feel much like putting it away.

Carmen hadn't moved and just stood there by the tables, watching as you collected your coat from behind the counter and turned off the lights as you walked past.

When he saw you walking towards the door, he rushed to get there first, to open it for you. You beat him to it, opening it yourself. He closed it and locked the door behind him. You both were engulfed by the dull chill of the air right away, and you couldn't help but shiver.

Carmen turned to you. "Let me drive you home." He didn't dare offer you a lighthearted smile or anything of that sort. He didn't think he had it in himself to be lighthearted, anyways.

You gifted him a polite one with a short tug of your lips. "I have a car. Thanks."

Carmen could've smacked himself right there. "Right." He didn't know what was wrong with him. "Sorry." The apology was for more than just his assumption, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify.

"I'll walk you to your car then?" He asked, though you knew no matter what you said he'd make sure you'd get to your car safely either way.

"Okay, yeah."

You both turned to walk to your car, Carmen letting you take the lead for a moment before catching up to walk side by side with you. You were hit with the reality that Carmen Berzatto was walking you to your car, alone with you, at midnight. A small gesture that had your mind buzzing from the contrast between your love for him and your frustration with him. Nobody had come close to making you feel the emotions Carmen made you feel, even if no words were shared between both of you on that short walk. It felt completely silent. Somehow, even if the streets of Chicago were anything but, it felt silent.

Carmen thought about how his life was full of silent moments, never saying what he truly wanted to, to the people he wanted to speak to the most. When he noticed you were cold, even through your jacket, he walked a little closer to you. Whether you noticed it or not, he didn't know, but at least it soothed a small part of his mind that was blaring that night, telling him that he'd fucked up with you. That you deserved better. He couldn't help but think that same thing when he was around you, all the time.

You'd both crossed the street to reach your car in not even a full minute, but the walk had felt eternal to you. When you turned to Carmen to tell him goodnight, he was already looking at you intently. You wanted to ask what he was thinking, but you didn't, and unlocked your car.

"See you in the morning, Carmen," you said, tone unrevealing. He gave you his best neutral smile.

"Yeah. See you, Mars."

You went to open your car door, but this time he beat you to it. Even if he made you angry, he was still Carmen.

You watched as he rounded the front of your car back to the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, soft breathing visible in the cold from the white puffs it made in the air as he breathed.

You gave him one last wave as a goodbye, but by that time he was pretty much out of vision, and then drove away.

He watched your car drive down the street, stop at the light, turn the corner, and then glide out of view.

Immediately, he knew he should've said more on the walk to your car. He should've at least apologized. He didn't tell you that he was sorry for being so shitty. He didn't tell you he appreciated everything you did. He also didn't tell you his car was parked on the opposite end of the street.

And as he walked back to it, crossing The Beef again with its spotless tables, he thought about nothing except you.

The next morning had you waking up with a headache that only worsened when you stepped foot into The Beef. Your coworkers were shouting and blurting out orders in typical kitchen lingo that you honestly didn't fully understand.

There seemed to be an underlying tension simmering in the air that morning that had everyone's voices raised just a little bit more than usual, echoing through to you from your designated spot behind the front counter.

You figured out soon that that tension came from the review of The Beef that had been put in the paper the night before. It was the same topic that had Sydney and Richie arguing back and forth for minutes on end next to you.

"So this is a war on poor people?" You heard Richie ask as you finally tuned back into their yelling. "I see you."

"No," Sydney yelled back. "This is a war on you shutting the fuck up and learning how to use the tablet! The end dude."

"What is the end?"

You turned to your left to see Carmen stride out of the kitchen, looking every bit intense, shoulders hunched and rigid. He glanced at you in some form of a greeting for only a second before putting himself between Richie and Sydney and somewhat settling their argument.

"Are we ready?" He asked them with a rushed tone.

"No!" Sydney snapped, but headed back into the kitchen with Richie, even if you could see she wanted to punch the man in the face.

You turned back around to watch Carmen as he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and started to rush back into the kitchen. You tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't meet your gaze.

"Um, Chef?" You tried to call, reaching out an arm to get his attention just a hair too late, him brushing past you without taking notice of you.

"Carmen?" This time he turned around, head flipping around to focus on you with eyes shot wide in the rush.

"What's up?" He asked, eyes quickly assessing your face. For a second you forgot what you were supposed to be asking.

"Did you, um, think about what I said last night?" He blinked back at you. "You said we'd talk about it in the morning, so, could we maybe talk about it?"

With the way he stared back at you, for a second you could've sworn he'd forgotten what you were talking about. Then, it had clearly dawned on him and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, holding out a hand to his head.

"No, yeah, right." He thought for a second, and then looked around, peeking into the kitchen, attention clearly spread elsewhere.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "Can we just ... talk about this another time?"

You tried not to show your frustration. "Like when?"

"Uh," Carmen started, but he was already backing into the kitchen. A loud clanging noise of pots and pans rang through to the front, and his focus was completely lost. "Who the fuck keeps denting my pans, Chefs?!" He shouted. He threw the kitchen door open and moved to go inside, but not before calling out "We'll talk later, Chef!" and disappearing into the kitchen.

You groaned. "Later," could mean any time between that day and Easter. You didn't want to blame Carmen. You knew he was extremely busy and tended to overwork himself. But something in the back of your mind told you he was avoiding you. You didn't like the feeling.

It'd only been maybe an hour into the day when all hell started to break loose in the kitchen. At least from what you could hear. There was three times as much yelling as usual and people were weaving through the station by the front counter and the kitchen, shouting sandwich orders. Meanwhile, you felt lost and unhelpful, with no direct answer as to what was going on.

You'd spent your time filling up the napkin dispenser and cutting green tape, feeling your uselessness in your bones. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe you were overly ambitious. That didn't change the fact that now it seemed like not just Carmen, but everyone else had gone out of their way to keep you away from the kitchen.

You'd thought about going in there anyway, but thought better of it when listening to the commotion. That was, until you saw Marcus with his bags taking his leave towards the exit, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.

"Woah, Marcus," you called out with furrowed brows. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

He let out a quick breath from his nose that sounded like it was supposed to be a wry laugh. He pointed towards the back. "Anywhere but in that kitchen." You frowned and he shook his head. "He's losing his shit, man."

You were confused and looked to him for more of an explanation, but he was already walking out the door and it didn't seem like he had any plans of coming back. You wanted to ask him "who?", but you had a sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you already knew just who he meant.

That and the loud "Fuck!" that came from the other side of the wall was the last push you needed to finally storm into the litchen. As soon as you walked in, it was a complete overload to your senses. The sounds and smells of sizzling food, the clunky buzzing of timers, and an argument at practically every corner. What had you reeling to a stop, though, was the sight of Carmen shouting truly throat-tearing orders, face turning red with exertion, hair damp from sweat, skin gleaming in the sight.

"Can somebody get me a Sharpie that fucking works?!" he screamed while whipping a Sharpie out of his hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight.

"Woah," you said aloud, not even meaning to say the word but being unable to stop yourself. When you did, Carmen's focus switched onto you in a second and you could see the pure chaos held behind his eyes.

"Wh- what the fuck are you doing in here?"

You frowned at his abruptness. "I just wanted to know what the hell is going on in here-"

"Nothing is going on in here."

Someone laughed from around the corner and about three more timers began to buzz and beep.

"Oh please, I've been hearing screaming for hours and then I see Marcus storming out of here with his things saying you've lost it."

At that, Carmen paused, eyes searching yours intently. "Marcus left?"

"Yeah," you answered steadily, unsure of how exactly he'd react. "It looked like he was quitting."

For a second, it looked like Carmen felt guilty, sad, but then he was fuming and slamming his hands down on the counter.

"Fuck!" He shook his head back and forth like he was rummaging through a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. He shouted again. "Fuck!"

You didn't like the sight before you, or the way Carmen seemed to be losing control of himself, and quickly. "Now can you tell me what the problem is?" You almost pleaded. "I could help."

Carmen hardly bothered to look you in the eyes and strode past you to reach the oven you'd been standing by, lifting the lid of a pot and adjusting the heat at lightning speed.

"You're not seriously ignoring me right now when I'm offering to help-"

He put up a hand. "I told you I'd talk with you later, Mars. Go back to the register."

You scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That's-" you shook your head. "I'm not leaving until I at least know what the fuck is going on."

"You wanna know what the fuck is going on?" Richie shouted out, laughing to himself loudly as he appeared from behind the corner. "Some moron left the pre-order option open on her beloved tablet overnight and now we're 250-something beefs behind schedule!"

Your head was spinning from the news and from the lack of air in the kitchen, but the yelling kept coming.

"Okay, well, the 'moron' is right here and she has a name, thank you," cut in Sydney, livid. "And there is no fucking way you are putting all the blame on me right now, Richie-"

"Who else's fucking fault is it sweetheart?"

"Richie, I swear to God if you call me that one more time-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Carmen's booming voice split the two of them apart. "Shut the fuck up and get back to work!"

They listened and went back to their stations angrily mumbling to themselves. That didn't change the fact that you knew the kitchen was in deep shit and Carmen was one wrong move away from losing his mind. You watched as he stormed around the kitchen to different stations. You'd be an idiot if you just stood at the register waiting for more nonexistent orders.

"Sydney," you called out as she passed by. "What can I do to help?"

She raised the corners of her lips in a slightly surprised smile and thought for a second.

"You can probably start by helping me with peeling these potatoes for now." She handed you a basket filled with potatoes and pointed towards a metal peeler on the counter. You quickly nodded.

"Okay, on it, Chef."

"Great. Oh, and-"

"Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?" yelled Carmen as he rounded the corner behind Sydney. He glanced angrily back and forth between you and the potatoes in your hands.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Chef? I'm getting us some very much necessary extra help."

"We don't need any fucking extra help right now!"

Sydney turned fully to face him. "Carmy what the fuck is your problem right now? Just let her fucking peel some potatoes!"

Carmen was breathing heavily, a vein in his neck visibly contracting."I told you guys she stays out front. I told everyone she's not supposed to-"

"Excuse me?" You asked, cutting in. He was talking about you like you weren't standing right behind Sydney, hearing his every shouted word. "Sydney's right. You need to stop getting so worked up about this!"

Carmen looked like he wanted to scream. To break out into shouts even louder than even those from this morning. You'd only seen Carmen worked up like this a few times before and even then he knew when he was taking things too far.

He didn't say anything back to you and just turned away.

"Someone just get her out of here!" He hollered, to anyone who'd listen. Anyone but you. Somehow, that was even more angering than his yelling.

"Hey!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder back to turn him to face you. He glanced down towards the same shoulder before looking back towards you. You saw something haughty flash behind his eyes as they stared back at you. "Whatever you need to say about me, you can say it to me, Carmen."

He was definitely speaking to you now.

"I need you to stay the fuck out!" He pointed a finger down at you. "You never fucking listen to me! I gave you this job because you fucking asked me to, because Richie fucking asked me to. So how about you finally listen to me and stay the fuck out?!"

You knew everyone had stopped to watch. It was quieter in the kitchen than it had been all morning.

You both stood standing there with heavy breathing. Your mind couldn't think of what to say back in that moment, but a thousand different responses played through your mind. Things you wanted to ask, to shout, to make sure he understood.

Your stare bore into Carmen's own for a few seconds, noticing the anger in them, but also something fragile threatening to shatter and reveal itself. He looked away from you quickly, bracing a hand on the counter.

"Leave, Chef." He said. You didn't need to be asked twice. Not that he was asking.

"Yeah," you laughed under your breath. You untied your apron and left it on the counter. "I definitely will."

He could call you Chef, but he wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen. He could yell at you, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes as you finally left the kitchen.

Another timer went off in the background as Carmen stood there, mulling over what he'd just done in his head; the one thing, most of all, he didn't want to happen.

Sydney shook her head, brushing past him. "Carmen Berzatto, you are a fucking idiot."

He didn't have anything to say, nothing to argue back with. He knew she was right. And as he heard the front door jingle as a sign of you leaving, he also knew just how badly he'd fucked up.

You didn't come to work the next day, or the day after that. Carmen never got to listen for the jingle of the doorbell as you came into work. He didn't get a single glimpse of you, those glimpses that were like caffeine shots, keeping him going every day. He didn't see your warm, familiar eyes that reminded him why he kept going in the first place. This was what he got for trying to keep you at arm's length. For being an asshole. The regret knawed at him painstakingly.

When the first hour went by and you didn't show up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that you wouldn't come into work that day. He had Richie cover the register in your place, an order shouted quickly as he was forced to think about things other than you. And as the day went on, the fact that he didn't know when he'd see you again was a heavy weight that lay in his chest, waiting to be addressed.

You awoke that morning in your apartment, phone lighting up beside you on your bedside table to four missed calls all from the same person. A person you didn't really feel like talking to much.

You checked the time and saw it was almost noon. It wasn't like you to sleep in. And, you hadn't called in sick to work. Not that it mattered.

The next day went the same. You hadn't called in sick that morning either, but you didn't have it in you to care. You didn't even know if you wanted to come back, but there was a twisting feeling inside of you that you knew wouldn't feel release until you settled things with Carmen. The hard part would lay in being upfront with him, not letting him make any excuses, and not letting yourself soften all because he was Carmen Berzatto. A battle between your pride and whatever you felt for him.

Carmen had called you two more times, but soon, the calls stopped coming. Carmen may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was extremely smart. And definitely smart enough to know that calling you repeatedly would get him nowhere, not when he'd been as awful as he had.

You'd spent the day driving around running errands that left you tired with boredom. The sun was setting as you walked back to your own front door, the air crisp and clear from the cold while your mind felt anything but. You reached your front doorstep and unlocked the entrance to your apartment, only to step forward and feel something crunch and mash underneath the heel of your shoe. You lifted your foot and glanced downward.

A candy bar. You peered down further. A Mars Bar.

Something inside of you paused. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe your thoughts. You weren't sure but you could feel it. The now half-smushed candy bar lay on the floor like a bittersweet memory.

You blinked. There was a note. It looked like it had been torn from the corner of something messily. More importantly, there was writing on it, in pencil, words pressed hard into paper.

I'm an asshole. You don't deserve that.

No name, but you knew who it was from. Not a "sorry" in sight, but you knew he was trying. You could almost feel the intent behind the words etched into the paper as you held it. You wanted to be furious still. And you definitely were mad. But maybe not as much. Because you knew Carmen.

You knew he had the temper of someone who'd just lost a brother, of someone who'd grown up in a screaming Berzatto household in the heart of Chicago. You'd never taken his outbursts to heart and you didn't want to now. Besides. You knew, eventually, you'd miss him too much to ignore him.

So much for not giving in to Carmen Berzatto.

You didn't really know what plan you had when you walked back towards your car, sat down, placed the chocolate bar and note in your bag, and drove. You didn't think you had one. You just were aware that your days away from The Beef had been extremely boring and that you wanted to see Carmen. To hear what he had to say to you. Even if it didn't end the way you wanted.

The familiar path to The Beef stretched before you now as an uncertain one. When you got there, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and got out of your car to the sight of the lights off in the front of the restaurant. But, if you knew anything about Carmen, you knew he'd stay late. Your assumption was proven right when you entered through the unlocked door—a slightly concerning fact—and saw the harsh white light of the kitchen flooding through to the rest of the place.

You hesitated to enter, not sure if you really knew what you were doing, but ignored the thoughts plaguing you and walked carefully into the kitchen, waiting at the door when you saw him.

He faced mostly away from the door, from you, hunched over the counter doing something that had his full focus, enough of it that he didn't notice you at first. You saw he had a toothbrush in hand and that he was determinedly scrubbing at the silver countertop surface that already sparkled spotlessly. Clearly, he didn't notice or care.

It felt like you were holding your breath as you watched him, saw how focused he was, how the muscles in his back flexed and churned with each precise movement he made as he scrubbed at a nonexistent stain. Like he held a desire to erase more than just grime.

He did that for what felt like another minute without pause, and you watched the whole time wordlessly, not wanting to break the focus he had and not knowing what to say regardless. Part of you just wanted to watch him, to see how long he could keep at it without noticing you. It wasn't for too long.

He lifted his posture upright and ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply with little exhale as if something weighty was plaguing him. Then, he finally sensed your presence at the doorway, eyes flicking towards you as his moments came to a halt. You watched him part his lips as he thought about what to say.

He shakenly said your name, a fragile plea. The word was soft coming from his lips like he knew it well, but nestled in your brain with surprise as he called you by your real name, not just a nickname. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything at all.

As he looked at you standing in the doorway, he felt exposed, like you could see through any walls he'd tried to build around himself. Words faltered from his brain. His lips parted again as if he was going to say something more, but they shut just as quickly and he ran a hand over his chin. He gestured that hand out to you.

"You uhm- did you get my note?"

You stared back at him for a beat before nodding and reaching into your bag. You held the note out in front of you, the side of your mouth quirking upwards. "Was this Carmen language for 'I'm sorry' ?"

You were half kidding and half serious, a test hidden in your words. The fact weighed on Carmen's brain, his demeanor more nervous than usual, more anxious.

"Yeah, uhm," he scrunched his eyes closed for a half second before walking towards you, taking the note from your hand and reading it to himself again, feeling the warm haze of shame creeping up on him. "Let me translate."

He read it once more. "Well, the 'I'm an asshole,' is pretty verbatim. I'm an asshole, and an idiot, and a bunch of other bad things." He glanced up at you from the paper and was relieved to see that you seemed at least a little amused. He continued. "And the 'You don't deserve that', you see, that's the good part, it translates directly to 'I'm sorry for yelling at you ' and 'it doesn't matter how stressed I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was wrong of me. And ... you're great.' "

Your eyebrows raised. "That's quite the translation."

Carmen laughed to himself breathily, but it held little amusement. "Yeah, I've been told communicating with me is like trying to tame a wild animal."

You smiled. "Who told you that?"

"Sugar."

Your laugh was warm and sounded like home. It was a feeling that left as fast as it came because soon the air between the two of you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The heavy silence lay bare and neither of you decided to fill it right away.

"Carmen."

The way you said his name sent shivers down his spine, a sensation that never ceased to affect him. He nodded at you, eyes studying your face showing that you had his sole attention.

"I know you don't like the idea of me being here. You don't have to try and hide it." His eyes widened as you spoke."But, could you at least tell me why?"

He stared back at you, brows furrowed like he was confused. It was like you could see the gears turning in his brain as he fought to find the right wording, revealed by the stiffening mass of his shoulders that never seemed to relax.

"I don't not like you being here, Mars Bar." He spoke slowly. "I think it's great that you're back in Chicago. I ... We've missed you."

A subtle warmth lay in his gaze, but you couldn't help but feel it was dimmed by whatever emotion he'd been suppressing, the battle evident in flickers in the blue of his eyes.

"I want to believe that, but with the way you've been avoiding me, how can I?"

"Avoiding you- that's," he shook his head, almost seeming incredulous, and you watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "I haven't been trying to avoid you."

You didn't know how he could sound surprised, how you could've interpreted the way he's acted all week as anything else. "Well that's definitely what it's felt like when I tried talking to you all week, and you're just ... I don't know, dismissive."

He rubbed a hand at the nape of his neck, focus pitched somewhere that wasn't at you, jaw tightening slightly. "I just ... it's busy around here trying to bring in enough money, and there have been a lot of different things that have my focus right now," he started, as if he hadn't, time and time again, had to remind himself to stop thinking about you.

"Carmen, I know you're busy but that-," you tried to keep your emotions from showing through your voice, but you were aware of the tinge of frustration that was slipping through. "I know that's only part of it. I just need you to be more transparent with me. I can't read your mind."

He nodded, silently thanking God that you couldn't. He swallowed again and you noticed a tremor in the way he held the note he'd written, a sign of unease that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know." His blue eyes stared into yours, though you could sense the reluctance in his voice. "But I'm not gonna lie and say that I think it's a good idea for you to stay here."

You felt yourself frown, brows tugging downwards in frustration and confusion. "Why?"

His gaze faltered for just a moment, seeming torn, but he was quick to regain his momentum. "This place is ... it's not meant for someone like you."

You squinted at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Someone like me?"

"Yeah, I just mean," he hesitated, hearing the way you repeated his words, like they were meant to insult. "You were supposed to leave here and finish your studies abroad and achieve great things. Things bigger and better than this shit hole. You were gonna-"

"Carmen, stop." You almost scoffed to yourself. "My plans were always to stay close to home. A few months abroad weren't gonna change that." The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the words you both shared, the thoughts never said allowed before. You noticed your breathing was becoming labored as you failed to understand the way Carmen's mind worked, the way he tried to communicate so much by doing so little.

"This whole time you were worried about me supposedly being meant to achieve great things, but what about you?" You let out a stunned laugh. "You're the one who studied with the best of the best, traveled all over, became a world-class chef and everything else, and now you're overworking yourself at this place and refusing help."

"Yeah, well, that part of my life stopped when Mikey gave this place to me as a final fuck you, so."

Your heart twinged not only at the name, but at the way Carmen's eyes flashed with hurt while his words could've cut stone.

"Mikey gave this place to you because he trusted you," you reasoned. You tried to make him come down from wherever he was, to detach himself from the hurt and open up. The hard plane of his shoulders lifted once in a shrug, with a small shake of his head as he stared at the ground.

"Yeah well, he just ended up fucking screwing me over."

Carmen's frustration seeped into his voice, the way he emphasized each word like he wanted to release whatever was simmering under the surface. You wanted to reach out, tell him that he could, but you held yourself back and stood up taller.

"That doesn't mean you should push people away from this place. Push me away. I could help out here. I saw how hectic it was the last time I was here and-"

"That day was a fluke," Carmen cut you off. "It's not usually like that..." his jaw worked. "I'm not usually like that." His words were laced with exasperation and a little bit of shame. You could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"Carmen, I understand. But-"

"I already blew up at you." His voice cut into the air harshly. He looked away, his chest rising as he tried to control rising frustration. "I didn't mean to do that, I don't... I'm not gonna let that happen again." His words were starting to come out in a rush, escaping his control, something you knew never sat well with him.

"Well, that's my choice to make, Carmen, not one that you can make for me."

"Mars, The Beef isn't- you don't want to settle for this place, just trust me."

"How can I trust you when you've done nothing but push me away since I got here?" You heard the tremble that was growing in your own voice, a mix of hurt and anger. "You've told me a million times what I want and don't want. Have you ever stopped to ask me what I wanted? Seen my point of view?"

Carmen's breathing was picking up too, the crystals that were his eyes looking at you with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He ran a hand over his face.

"I've tried to see your point of view."

"Have you?" you snapped back.

"I gave you the job even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went against what I knew just because it was you and I let Richie convince me it was a good idea, and I am fucking done listening to Richie's ideas-" his breathing was becoming uneven as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Hey, Richie's done a lot more to help me since I've gotten back than you have, and a lot more listening!" Now you were yelling, and he was yelling and you didn't like the direction this was going.

"Yeah, well did Richie tell you this place was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt when Mikey gave it to me? Did he tell you we probably couldn't even afford to pay you a decent fucking salary?"

You opened your mouth, expecting to be equipped with a response as fast as the ones that came before, but that didn't happen and you didn't say anything. You let your eyes scan Carmen, searching for a hint that he wasn't serious, but he looked wholeheartedly sincere and angered. In fact, he looked like he was fighting to even breathe steadily.

You looked at him concernedly, taking a step closer, but he just continued, laughing to himself without joy. "He didn't fucking tell you. Of course not."

His breaths were harsh, coming from his nose and lifting his chest repeatedly. His arms slapped down at his sides, hands trembling. "See, that's why I fucking told him I didn't want you anywhere near this crap hole, I fucking told him-"

His yelling stopped. He recoiled, backing up into the counter recklessly, a pot falling behind him with a clang that had you flinching. His vision was pointed downwards towards the ground, but he was frowning so hard you were sure he couldn't see anything at all, hand to his chest, gripping.

"Carmen?" You asked, alarm suddenly overtaking you and washing away whatever anger had been bubbling inside of you. "Wh- are you okay?"

It took him a second to even process what you'd said, another to respond. "I'm fine, I-" you put a hand on his shoulder to brace him, feeling how tense it was, feeling it trying to move with the effort of his shallow breaths. Panic, shame, embarrassment, everything, seemed to claw at his chest, constricting his breathing even more. "I just- fuck, I can't- I can't-"

"You can't breathe," you said, understanding what was going on now with another flash of alarm that you hid, trying to stay calm. He nodded shakily.

"Carmen," you said steadily. To him, the sound of your voice was distant, overshadowed by the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears, muffled the way voices sounded when from underwater. Carmen knew he wasn't underwater. You called his name again, and he did his best to hear it. "You're having a panic attack."

He managed to shake his head again. "I'm fine. I just- shit." His legs practically gave out from underneath him and he braced one hand on the table behind him, one on your shoulder.

The sight of Carmen collapsing to the ground had you wanting to release a sob, but instead, you threw Carmen's arm around you and somehow managed to take two steps towards a bucket that was on the floor against a near wall and got him to sit down on it unsteadily.

You took both of his hands in yours, noticing how his shoulders shook, how the bottom of his neck tinted red from the straining effort to breathe.

"Carmen," you called, kneeling down to his level and giving his hands a squeeze. His vision was blurred, staring downwards, but the hazy sight of his hands wrapped up in yours gave his mind a moment's peace before he was struggling to focus again.

You took a deep breath in, feeling selfish that you even could. "Carm, do your best to look at me." You purposefully slowed your words, spoke softly and clearly, and Carmen heard. You took one hand and rested it by his cheek, hair pooling into your fingers. You brushed it back, and ran your thumb across the rise of his cheekbone, lifting his face to look upwards at you. Even when his mind could hardly form coherent thoughts, your touch still affected him like no one else's.

Once his eyes were on you, you took the hand that was still holding his and placed both on your own chest, covering the area of warm skin close enough to feel your heartbeat. A tremor rolled through him, at your hand, at the way you felt, at your touch.

You. You were here, he thought, and that was a comfort to him in itself.

"Here," you said, pressing down gently but firmly on his hand. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"

Carmen tried, really tried, but his head wasn't focusing no matter what he did. You noticed his struggle right away, like he didn't even have to form words for you to know.

Hurriedly, you took off your jacket and threw it to the ground beside you. Carmen heard the sound of a zipper before his hand was taken in yours again and placed on your chest. This time, the underside of his hand felt warmer, closer to you, to skin.

"How about now?" you asked. His eyes were shut, and he really did his best to focus this time, tune into you, into the way your chest moved up and down beneath his hand, and with it, he heard the soft and steadying rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Yeah, I- I feel it."

You let yourself smile slightly, trying to take slow and deliberate breaths. "Carmen, I need you to do your best to match your breathing with mine." You looked at him and the way his features were scrunching with the effort of trying to listen to you. "Can you do that for me?"

He nodded. He'd do anything for you.

He focused on only his hand, yours, and you. Your chest underneath his palm, warm, and steadying, and alive. He felt it rise once, and fall, all in the time that he let out multiple staggering breaths.

The next time yours rose, he didn't let himself exhale until you did, taking in air from his parted lips and releasing it through his nose, feeling how the air spread thin throughout his body, a good feeling. He did that again, focused on the way his fingertips grazed bare skin, on the sound of your heart beating, in time with his now.

Behind the blank nothingness of his eyelids, scenes played out before him. Visions of his past, echos of familiar voices, spurts of color and light overtaking him.

Then, he thought of you, of the warmth of your gaze, even if he didn't deserve it. The shine of your skin, the way it looked soft even in the harsh light of the kitchen. Thoughts of you, you with him, years ago, months ago, and days, how he'd seen you for the first time in months, standing behind the counter with a smile sweet like the chocolate bars you'd always liked, the one he'd left at your doorstep, a weak attempt at salvaging one of the best relationships he'd ever known. He'd buy a million more if it meant you'd stay with him, by his side, like you'd been for years. Like you were now.

He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he opened his eyes and you were still there, still holding onto him, face looking calm but eyes swirling with emotion. With concern.

He felt fine now, his body having enough strength to support him, but he leaned into you regardless, head sunk down, resting in the place beneath your chin, on your chest. He wanted to get as close to your heartbeat as possible, not just feel it with his hand but surround himself with it.

You brought your hands up to envelop him, one resting on the white cotton covering the hard muscles of his back, rubbing it soothingly, the other coming up to rest in his hair again, gently brushing through the strands closest to the root as if to say I'm here, I have you.

You leaned your own head down to slightly rest on the back of his, mouth brushing against the crown of his head in a way so delicate he wasn't even sure he felt it. But you saw the way he melted into your touch, felt the way the muscles in his back slowly seemed to release tension at each caress. He needed to be held. But he was him, he'd never ask for it. But, you were you, and you'd always know.

You stayed like that for minutes more, though you would've held him all night if he needed it. When he sat back up, the whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and one of his cheeks was gleaming in the light, damp. You didn't comment on it. You didn't say anything at all but stood up from where you knelt and walked towards the counters, peeking underneath them until you found what you needed. You stopped at the sink and returned to your spot in front of Carmen with a plastic deli container filled with water in hand. You offered it to him wordlessly.

"Thank you," he said, taking it from you gingerly, but his voice was hoarse and he felt the red heat of embarrassment as he took large sips of the water, draining it halfway at once. A water droplet escaped from the side of the cup, dripping down his chin, and your eyes followed the movement until you felt guilty about it and stared down at your own hands. The two of you let the silence rest as it was, peaceful and healing, until you felt ready to break it.

"I'm sorry," you said, slightly a surprise for yourself to hear the words from your mouth, but you meant them. Carmen sat back up. "For pushing you to this point. I didn't mean to-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Carmen spoke quietly, voice somehow steady. "It- ... that wasn't your fault. It's happened before, when you weren't here."

You let your eyes scan over his face concernedly because he wasn't looking straight at you and you always felt the need to look after him, even if he wouldn't let you.

"This has happened before?" Carmen gave a weak shrug, like this wasn't something he thought about on his own, something he ever let occupy his focus.

"Something like it."

You made a breathy sound of disbelief. "Shit, Carmen."

So many thoughts were demanding your attention, too many. You wanted to tell him how this wasn't supposed to be a normal occurrence, how not okay it was to ignore his mental well-being. Shake him silly for never caring about the right things, for never caring about himself enough. To give him yet another lecture on letting you help him, on letting anyone help him.

"It wasn't as bad this time." His voice paused all your thoughts. "I think it was because you were here."

You didn't know how to respond, but he finally looked into your eyes and saw how much they spoke for you, how they widened, and then blinked once or twice, shying away. Almost like you were guilty, like you were sad. Something inside of him reminded him that he was probably part of the reason for that, and that ate away at him more deeply than any of his, like you said, panic attacks, ever had.

"I'm sorry, Mars."

Your eyes flicked up to his immediately, intention behind them. "You never need to apologize for having a panic attack, Carmen."

"No, for- for not just that." He paused. "For being an ass. For yelling at you. For not listening to you."

You looked at him wordlessly. You didn't want to say it was okay, because you'd be lying if you said that, if you didn't acknowledge how his words still rang sharply in your head. But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that Carmen certainly made things feel okay when he was calm like this, understanding. Peaceful.

"And I'm sorry for all the shit I gave you about not listening to me."

You let out a quick breath, almost a laugh. "To be fair, I ... didn't."

His heart seemed to swell at even just the hint of laughter that coated your voice.

"Yeah. You don't listen to me." He let the side of his mouth quirk up to match yours. "That's the thing I love about you." Internally he thought, just one of many.

You stared up at him. At the way his eyes seemed to look over your face in adoration. It did something to your heart, pulled on the strings of it, and left it panging in your chest. He noticed right away.

"You alright?" His concern and furrowed brows almost made you want to laugh.

"Yes I'm-," you exhaled. "I'm fine. The real question is, are you alright?" He watched as your eyes flitted all around his face. "To be honest, you don't seem it."

He self-deprecatingly chuckled. "Wow, thanks, Mars."

You shook his arm a little bit, expression disbelieving. "I'm serious."

You thought about how tense he'd been underneath your touch, how tense he'd seemed for the many days that you'd been back home. How that couldn't be healthy for anyone.

"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Carmen." You made sure he was hearing your every word. "Your mental health is important. More important than any job. You have to stop worrying so much about The Beef and start worrying more about you."

He ran a tired hand over his eyes, immediately feeling the urge to look away. "If I didn't put as much as I did into this place, I don't even think it'd still be up and running."

You let the words hang between the both of you for a moment, knowing how important this was to him. It was important to you too.

"I know how much you've done for this place, Carm." You took his hand in yours again. "You care about it a lot, always have. I have too. But you know the toll it's taking on you. That's not good for anyone, and it'll only last so long. And ... that's why I think you should take any help you can get, for now."

As soon as the topic left your lips again, you felt his hand stiffen in your hand, mouth opening to argue, but you held up a hand.

"And before you say anything, I don't care about the full salary, I don't I care about traveling, or 'wasting my potential' or any of that. I care about helping this place, making sure it lasts, for Mikey." You breathed. "And for you. I care about you."

He could feel his own heart start to race in his chest, flustered like he hadn't known you for years, like you weren't one of his oldest friends.

"I care about you too," he said, and the words felt shamefully foreign on his tongue, thinking about how little he'd ever actually said the words. "That's part of why it's hard for me to think about you working here. You mean a shit ton to me. More than anyone else in this damn place."

"You don't mean that." You couldn't stop the way your brows pushed together, looking down at your hand that was holding Carmen's rough and callused ones. "What about Richie, or Fak, or Sydney-"

"They mean a shit ton to me too, but it's ... not the same. You're you."

He looked into your eyes, trying to see if you'd recognized his hints, but he picked up emotions other than the realization. On a frown, on reluctance, on a guarded, shy look.

"I'll always be me, Carmen." You bit at the inside of your cheek, putting off the topic like you weren't important. That was a foreign idea to him. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you not accepting help."

You saw the way his demeanor shifted at your words, a sense of uncomfortableness settling in his bones, revealing itself in the way he sat up straighter. Your grip on his hands was still firm, unwavering, like all you wanted was to make him understand.

"Carmen," you called, but he was already staring at you. "Promise me that you'll let other people take care of you, help you get by. Let me help you."

He was grateful for the way he was positioned, elbows leaning on knees, hands held by yours, because it was stabilizing him, grounding him when he felt like running. He knew that if he wanted to keep you around, keep you by him, he couldn't do that. That didn't change the fact that this was new to him.

"I, um,"

"It doesn't have to all at once." You gave him a smile, a real one, because you knew he was trying. Breaking out of old habits, for you. "One step at a time."

You were back home. Him pushing you away in his head, running, but only in his mind, didn't change that. He didn't want it to. Despite the pull of his mind telling him to hold you at a distance, the push of his heart wanted you. It was drawn to the cradle of your hands, the warmth of your smile.

"I promise."

Your smile grew to a grin that tugged at the sides of your glowing eyes, eyes that sparkled with affection like they held a hidden invitation, a plea for him to let you in. He finally did, and he knew so fully that he would've made that promise to you time and time again if it meant he could have you and see that smile as much as he wanted.

Your fingers brushed the back of his hands as you stood up from where you were kneeling, letting out an exhale that he noticed sounded almost weightless, a change from the burdened way it sounded to him before. The thought put him at ease.

He stood up too, watching you as you retrieved your jacket and put it on, him feeling the urge to help you with even just that. When you focused back on him, the etches of a smile still lingering on your face, it was magnetic. He couldn't look away. You couldn't either.

You stared at the way a hundred different colors danced in the blue of his eyes, a miraculous feat that you'd loved from the start. As you looked at each other, eyes saying more than your mouths had the courage to, your smile grew slowly, heartbeat picking up in your chest.

"Let me walk you to your car," you coaxed, gesturing towards the door. He laughed at the random idea, breaths escaping through his nose.

"What? Why?"

You shrugged, smile and features and everything, warm. "Call it the first step to you fulfilling your promise to me."

Knowing how he'd iced you out, he embraced that warmth. Made it his new home. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."

You gestured for him to follow you, he did, and that was all he had to do. You turned off the lights behind the both of you, locked the door, and didn't ask him to do a thing, just to see the amused look on his face when you smiled at him, his eyes staring back at yours like you were a wonder, something rare to be loved and kept safe.

As you walked back to his car, that was all he could think about. How he'd come across this ray of light in his life that was you, and how you'd stayed by his side, a miraculous idea but he didn't even want to dwell on that too much because it took him away from this moment being shared between the two of you, alone, the cold nipping at your skin but it not mattering because too much had happened that night to care.

The moment seemed to come to an end all too quickly. Carmen had stopped once you'd both reached his car, and you did too. He became aware of the feeling of you next to him, savoring it because he knew it'd end the moment he got into his car.

"Carmy," you said, extending the moment just a little longer. He hummed in response, watching as you stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.

"Can you promise me one more thing?"

He nodded, not missing a beat. " Yeah, anything." Something inside of you fluttered. You cast it aside to hold his gaze.

"Promise me you'll always try and tell me what's going on in your head. No more hiding."

His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating something, a flicker of conflict in them, a vulnerability that you didn't know what to think of. Then, it was gone and you weren't even sure you'd seen it.

"Yeah, I- um," his jaw tightened for a second. "I promise, Mars."

You patted him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that felt phony even to you. "Great ... that's great."

He flashed a closed-mouthed smile and you both stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, not saying a word.

"Goodnight," you told him, because it was what you would've said to anyone else at that moment, ignoring the whispers in your mind telling you something was missing, that Carmen wasn't just anyone else.

Something tugged at him too, nagging him, insisting that he had more to tell you, more to say before the night was really over, before he had to go to work the next day and somehow navigate his day with the new promises he'd made you. But all he said was "Goodnight, Mars," before getting in his car with just a wave goodbye that felt bare and wrong.

You left him one more of your smiles through the passenger window of his car before walking off to wherever you'd parked your own. He was sure he'd felt butterflies. Butterflies.

Only you could do this to him. He'd felt numb, overwhelmed and unsatisfied all the same time for however long, and then you come back to Chicago and suddenly he felt everything, all the time. It was getting to him, clearly, because he found himself opening his car door and stepping out of it, losing control of his body, loosening his grip of rationality all because of you. Because he wanted to see you, needed to. He needed you.

You were a good distance away from his car by the time he'd gotten out of his, but you turned around at the sound of the car door practically slamming. You frowned, noticing Carmen walking towards you.

"Carmen?" you called into the night, confused. He caught up with you, something behind his gaze that had his eyes shimmering. You swore you could feel the delicate movement of his eyes across your face as soon as he was near enough to truly take it in.

He took hold of your hand, fingers interlocking with yours delicately, an electrifying feeling buzzing through you. You let out a small gasp at the contact, vision shooting down at the point at which you both touched, just a hand hold but the contact took your full focus.

"Hey," he said, something like a smile creeping onto his features and you'd never seen him like this, so exhilarated and full of delicate determination. You looked back up into his eyes, and he took a step closer, finally letting himself be pulled by that magnetic force calling him to you that he couldn't resist. He wouldn't, anyway.

"Wh-," you started, meaning to question him but the thought was brushed aside when he leaned inwards, his forehead falling against yours. His curls brushed against the top of your head, and you secretly loved the feeling, becoming breathless.

"You can tell me to stop, Mars." He murmured it so close to you, breath fanning onto your cheek in a distracting but addictive way, and suddenly you were forgetting how to talk. It didn't matter, because you didn't want him to stop. You looked back up at him, and he saw that in your eyes, so he didn't.

His lips brushed against yours, a taste of what he'd been wanting for longer than he could even remember. The feeling it sent throughout him was immobilizing, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, reveling in it.

It was you who closed the distance, pressing your lips to his and letting the dizzying wave from it spread all over you, to the tips of your fingers that immediately reached up to hold his firm shoulders, and to your brain that buzzed in joy and excitement and a bit of something else.

He froze up for a second when he felt your lips crashing into his. Your lips on his felt like the answers to all his problems, and he needed them in a burning, unignorable way. His brows furrowed and his hands reached up to cradle your neck delicately, holding you like you were more valuable than anything he could've bought, anything he could've wished for, could've imagined he could possibly have.

His lips tugged on yours and yours tugged back, a rhythm that felt easy to follow, like the deep thrum of a heartbeat. And when you both finally pulled apart for air, it was like you could still feel that rhythm, because your heartbeats were beating so loudly and in time with each other's that it felt like the moment was never meant to come to an end.

Your foreheads were still connected, and you knew neither of you had it in you to pull away. You felt somehow even more breathless.

"What was that for?" Your voice was soft, hoarse. You swore you saw Carmen's lip quirk upwards.

"I promised to not hide what was going on in my head." Your hands came up to delicately wrap around his biceps, impossibly solid underneath your fingertips. He didn't suppress the shudder that traveled through him. "Call that the first step."

You smiled, this time against his lips, and somehow that beat every single smile you'd ever given him before. It felt like a promise of your own, to share your warmth with him from now on. He liked the idea, a lot. He'd let you do it whenever you wanted, he liked it that much.

He'd let you take care of him whenever you wanted, too. Again and again, until you got sick of him. But he was Carmen Berzatto. You knew you never would.

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #friends to lovers #love confessions #one shot #fiction #romance #carmy needs a hug #mental health #carmy needs therapy #slight angst #x reader #childhood best friends to lovers #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy x reader #jeremy allen white

[ludinusdaleth]

the bear gaze gays

-Critical Role Plays Daggerheart

#critteredit #criticalroleedit #critical role #daggerheart #sam riegel #matthew mercer #marisha ray #mine #queer #bears #gay #i havent seen this full one shot but my friend informed me of this scene and well. #whats a man to do lol #laura bailey

[littlegalerion]

Yeah sex is great, but have you ever heard of:

#what I wanted so badly with halsin #i wanted a 500 year old wood elf that was ready to settle down #it was a long shot but damn I wanted it #astarion would be capable of this too but I believe hes only a little over 200 #ao he wouldnt be mature enough to want this quite yet #this isnt offical lore btw but it was one variation of it during I believe 3.5E or 4E #but damn I wish this still existed #its beautiful #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin #like my halsin romancers....imagine him explaininf this but he says 'i prefer the term soulmate' #'or perhaps just mate...look at you. youve turned this old bear into a wolf ready to begin his own pack.' #18+ only

[aestheticaltcow]

Elementary School

Carmy x Fem!Reader fluff A/N: the teacher x carmy vibe is my hyper fixation; it's a fun troupe.

~

“1-2-3, eyes on me!” “1-2, eyes on you!” you smiled as you heard the 15 little voices respond to your attention-grabbing technique. “Okay, my friends, we need to pick up all of our toys before we go home. After clean up, we’re gonna pick up our backpacks and paintings from art class, then go outside to wait for our adults!” you announced.

“So you’re pickin' your girlfriend up from kindergarten?” Carmy rolled his eyes at Richie’s laughter. “You want Eva to get inta her school? Be fuckin’ nice.” Richie laughed again, shaking his head as the two left the restaurant. “It’s just funny, Cousin. She talks to fuckin’ four-year-olds all day. She talk to ya’ bout your big feelings?” Carmy glared at him as he unclipped his keys from his pants. “Shut the fuck up, Richie.” 

You stared at the whiteboard before you, trying to think of a positive affirmation for the kids to say the following morning when your door swung open. “Hey there, sweetheart,” Richie announced. “Hi, Richie, how you doin’?” you smiled, thankful for the distraction; Carmy was hot on his tail and shot you a smile. “Hey baby, he insisted on comin’.” you laughed and shrugged, “I assume you want to harass Teacher Jackie about gettin' Eva into school here.” Richie shrugged, “Carmy said this is like the best school in Chicago….” you shook your head. “She’s down the hall in room 3. She also just broke up with her boyfriend, so if you flirt a little… might get an interview for next semester's admin.” Richie was intrigued and quickly walked down the hallway, leaving you and Carmy alone. 

“Sorry ‘bout him… how was your day baby?” you shrugged, “No one had any accidents, so that was a good thing.” Carmy nodded and stepped closer to you, resting his hands on your hips, “That’s good.” “I also had the best lunch ever…” Carmy chuckled “Oh really?” you nodded, biting your lip playfully. “Yeah, this guy I know slept over last night- he woke up early, made me breakfast, and packed me lunch… need to thank him tonight…” Carmy shook his head before kissing you softly as you moved your hand to Carmy’s neck, “Dam Cousin, can’t be makin’ out in here.” Richie snarked, resulting in you pulling away from Carmy prematurely. Carmy sighed “Later.” you nodded in confirmation that this wasn’t the end.

#the bear #the bear fan fiction #the bear fan fic #the bear imagine #the bear one shot #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x femreader #richie jerimovich

[leviscolwill]

agora hills [smau]

pairing: joao felix x singer!reader [face claim: tate mcrae]

summary: you said you'd never show off your boyfriend ever again, but that was before you met joao

note: i didn't accent his name even once, sorry joao connoisseurs and other portuguese besties. might contain inaccurate spanish / portuguese translations

tagged: @ceofmercedes <3

now playing agora hills by d*ja cat...

yn.mp3

liked by joaofelix79, madisonbeer and 641,908 others

yn.mp3 greedy out noooow, thank you for all the love lately xx

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ur.bsf oooooh ik he's fuming rn

yn.mp3 idk who you're talking abt 😁

user99 on repeat already 🤭🎧 [this comment was liked by the creator]

joaofelix79 not bad not bad

yn.mp3 obrigado amigo 💃

joaofelix79

liked by gavi, jkeey4 and 804,055 others

joaofelix79 +3 puntos, feliz in mi nueva casa (+3 points, happy in my new home)

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yn.mp3 ew sweaty

joaofelix79 you asked for a post match pic tho ?

yn.mp3 to make fun of your sweaty ass..... no other reason

joaofelix79 right.

barcafan14 welcome home 🫀

hugofelix18 para de te exibir 🙄 (stop showing off)

joaofelix79 não consigo evitar 🤷🏽‍♂️ (i can't help it)

yn.mp3 posted a new story

ur.bsf replied to your story

IS IT WHO I THINK IT IS ⁉️⁉️

yn.mp3

might be idk 🏃‍♀️

ur.bsf

call me when he's gone

if he's leaving your house tonight 🤭

yn.mp3

STOP THIS

he's not staying the night

ur.bsf

that's what they all say

yn.mp3 posted a new story

blaugrana.news

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blaugrana.news joao felix celebrated his el classico goal by pointing at the stands tonight 👀

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user20 omg y'all, y/n's best friend liked

user71 she's might just a barca fan chill out

user64 i connected the dots....

user09 you didn't connect shit

user64 I CONNECTED THE DOTS

yn.mp3 - bali

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yn.mp3 day mode & night mode [tagged: joaofelix79]

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ur.bsf i wanna show you off, i wanna you show off 💽

yn.mp3 i might have to make you sign a nda from now on 😒

ur.bsf sry baby it's my fav 😓

joaofelix79 minha linda namorada 🤍 (my pretty girlfriend)

yn.mp3 amo te ❤️ (i love you)

user64 I KNEW IT AND Y'ALL CALLED ME CRAZY

user27 i thought she said she wouldn't share her relationships online anymore, so quick to switch sides lmao 😶‍🌫️

user08 you should be happy she's feeling confident enough in her new relationship to share it with us !

joaofelix79 - bali

liked by frenkiedejong, rubendias and 810,725 others

joaofelix79 recharging 🔋 [tagged: yn.mp3]

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yn.mp3 thank you to my man 💅

yn.mp3 this frvst picature is drivwibg me isname

joaofelix79 are u okay ??

yn.mp3 no

alejandrobalde no te canses demasiado tio 🤣🤣 (don't get too tired bro)

joaofelix79 no te preocupes por mi 👀 (don't worry about me)

yn.mp3

liked by sabrinacarpenter, sza and 973,016 others

yn.mp3 i wanna brag abt it, i wanna tie the knot, i wanna show u offff..... agora hills is out tonight 🩷

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user09 HELLO ???

joaofelix79 my new favorite song

ur.bsf when he steals my gf away from me 😿 but he has great taste 😻

joaofelix79 your girlfriend ?? 🤣🤣

ur.bsf back the fuck off musty ahh man 🤺

joaofelix79 i just can't wait to piss you off forever 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

yn.mp3 already are

joaofelix79 don't test me

#this had no business taking this long to make #i love my pookie bear joao 🤎 #joao felix #joao felix x reader #joao felix imagine #joao felix one shot #joao felix blurb #joao felix fanfic #joao felix drabble #joao felix fluff #joao felix smau #joao felix x you #joao felix x y/n #football one shot #football fanfic #football fluff #football imagine #football x reader #football x you #football smau #football x y/n #football drabble #football blurb

[loveforcarmen]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 - CH. 6

- 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘰𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 | - 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯

NOTE: lowkey wrote carmen a little ooc in this chapter 🫣

souvenir - boygenius

-

Carmen woke up to a loud pounding on his apartment door, jolting him awake. "What the fuck?" he muttered to himself, sitting up in bed. The door pounded again, with more force against it this time.

He got out of bed quietly, quickly slipping on a t-shirt that was on the floor. Walking towards his apartment door, he grabbed the baseball bat that he kept near the door. He opened the door quickly, bat raised over his shoulder.

"Carmen, what the fuck?" Margaret slurred, taking a step back.

He lowered the bat to his side, throwing his hand up, "What are you doing here? You lost or something?"

She sighed, rubbing her temples in an attempt to ward off an incoming migraine.

"Where are you coming from?" Carmen asked, glancing over her outfit. She wore a small black dress that hugged her body paired with a set of dark red heels. He stood still, slightly annoyed as she took her time to answer his question.

"A party." she motioned to her outfit, "Was it not obvious?" she did a small twirl, almost tripping over her feet due to the alcohol in her system.

"Yeah, you're right. It was obvious." he said, not in the mood to agrue with a drunk woman. They always win, even if they're wrong.

Margaret's smile suddenly dropped, the corners of her mouth turning into a frown. "My friends left me." her voice cracked as she felt herself growing emotional, amplified with her drunken state.

"Where's Sydney? Wasn't she supposed to go with you?"

She felt her bottom lip quiver as she spoke, "She cancelled last minute. Something with her dad." she said, shrugging her shoulders. She wore a sad smile as she backed up, leaning against the wall across from his apartment door.

"You need better friends." Carmen said, still standing in the doorway.

"Guess so." she sighed, picking at her fingernails. There was a long pause between the 2 before Carmen finally huffed, stepping aside to let her in.

She muttered a quiet "thank you" as she walked past him, into the apartment. He nodded his head, kicking the door closed behind them. Margaret set her bag on his coffee table, then carefully took off her shoes.

Settling onto the couch, she started to fall asleep when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She looked up, her head still spinning.

"You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch." Carmen said, leaning over the couch, looking down at her. His hands gripped the couch, his hand close enough to her face to the point where she could study the intricate details of his hand tattoos.

"You don't have to. I don't want your pity." she said, closing her eyes again.

"Trust me, I don't feel pity for you. I just know that couch isn't the most comfortable to sleep on, speaking from experience." He helped her up off the couch, his touch almost featherlight on her arms.

He motioned for her to follow him down the hallway to his bedroom. As she trailed behind him, she noticed that he had absolutely no decor. No pictures, no paintings, no wall shelving. Absolutely nothing.

He opened the door, quickly swiping a pair of pants off his bed and tossing them into his closet. "Just wait there. I'll get you a change of clothes to sleep in." Carmen said as he walked to his dresser.

"Yes chef." she joked, immediately wishing she could take it back. Why would she even say that?

Carmen was glad his back was turned to her, her stupid comment almost pulling a genuine smile out of him. Maybe it was the fact it was early in the morning, so his head was loopy and his sense of humor was warped. Maybe it was the fact that she had no filter right now, her honesty in full effect.

He dug through his drawer, eventually settling on a pair of boxers and one of his many white t-shirts. He turned around, handing the clothes off to Margaret, who sat patiently on his bed.

She raised an eyebrow, holding the boxers out in front of her. Carmen hardly owned any pairs of shorts, so boxers was the best he could settle on. "They're clean." he rolled his eyes, continuing on. "Bathroom is over there. I'll be making the bed if you need anything."

He extended his arm to the door on their right as he walked over to the linen closet by the doorway. Carmen kept his eyes on Margaret a second longer than he intended to as she walked to the bathroom. He pressed his nails into his palms, punishing himself. She was his coworker first, anything else second. He didn't want to change the scenery.

As he changed the bedsheets and blanket, Margaret changed out of her clothes in the bathroom. She neatly folded her dress, setting it on the bathroom counter.

Carmen knocked on the door with a sharp rap of his knuckles, startling her, "Yo, you good in there?" he asked then kept quiet, waiting for answer.

"Yep." she said, opening the door. She smoothed down the white tee, which could practically be considered a dress on her. "I think it might be too tight." she said sarcastically.

He cleared his throat, ignoring her comment, "Bed is made. I grabbed your bag from the coffee table and set it on the nightstand. Just in case you needed something."

"Thanks Carmen." she said, rubbing the back of her neck as she walked to the bed. She let out an intentional whimper, hitting a knot that was in her neck from hours of looking down and cooking. It was quiet enough that someone wouldn't have heard it unless they were really listening.

"Yeah, no problem.." Carmen trailed off, still standing in the doorway. He scratched his knotted curls before walking off, "I'll go get you a glass of water." he excused himself.

He returned with the glass, setting it down gently on the wooden bedside table. Margaret looked up at him, appreciating his kindness. It wasn't outwardly shown to her often, especially in the kitchen. He usually wore a grumpy exterior, more often during the 2 week period after they fought.

"Thank you, Carmy." she said quietly, using his nickname for the first time in awhile. It was her way of showing that forgave him and also her way of apologizing for the past 2 weeks.

"Don't mention it." he rubbed the back of his neck before adding, "If you need to puke, please run to the bathroom."

"Got'cha." she mumbled, already drifting off into the welcoming arms of sleep. Carmen nodded his head, walking out of the bedroom. A feeling pricked him in the back like a needle, causing him to turn over.

"Roll over." Carmen said, walking to the bedside. He gently grabbed her, easily pushing her body on its side.

"Why?" she asked, awake and confused by the sudden action. She didn't even notice his hands holding her bare waist, his touch delicate on her skin.

"Because," he answered as he helped her roll over, "I don't need to drowning in your own puke dumbass." he remarked, stepping away from the bed.

"Oh." Margaret whispered. There was a long pause between them before she spoke again, "Goodnight."

Carmen walked to the doorway, flicking off the soft lamp lighting that had been illuminating the room, "Night Maggie." He shut door, walking to the living room to prepare his makeshift bed for the night.

SOMETIME IN EARLY MORNING

Carmen woke up to the usual brigade of bad dreams that plagued him at night. Getting up to fill up a glass of water, he noticed that he was sweating profusely. There was a line of sweat down the center of his back, transferring the moisture onto his shirt.

He groaned, filling up his cup, downing it then filling it up again. Setting his cup in the sink, he turned to quietly walk down the hallway to the bedroom. He opened the door, which resulted in a low 'creak' from the hinges.

Margaret stirred at the noise but did not wake up. Carmen grabbed her glass, then left room as quietly as he had came in. As he waited for the glass to fill up, he ran his fingers through his hair. A stress habit. Why was he stressed about her being there?

He returned to the bedroom, gently setting the glass back down in its previous spot. He glanced over at Margaret, who was sleeping soundly. Her hair had fallen onto her face, covering her cheeks and eyes.

He turned to leave, the quick turn resulting in him stubbing his toe on the nightstand. The nightstand rattled, causing a picture frame to fall over.

"Fuck." Carmen whisper-yelled, grabbing his foot tightly.

"Carmen?" Margaret groaned, slowly waking up. He let out a strained 'yeah' in response as he held his foot. She sat up, blinking her eyes to adjust to the darkness. "What are you doing?"

Carmen let out a loud huff before answering, "I was refilling your water." he said, his pain beginning to subside.

"Oh..alright." she still gave him a nod, knowing he couldn't see her.

"Yup."

Before she talked, she debated whether she should open her mouth. "I just wanted to thank you for being so nice to be tonight." her nose stung as she spoke, her glossy eyes flicking away from Carmen's silhouette.

"Hey it's fine." he reassured her quickly, "I don't know why you're getting emotional."

"Cause I'm drunk." she said bluntly, throwing her hands up in the air. There was a quick beat before she spoke again, "You're just so.."

Carmen hung onto her last words, waiting for what she was going to say.

"Just..so..stern." she said, laying back down. "I'm not used to seeing outwardly "nice carmen" that often, especially outside of the kitchen."

Her words felt like a slap in the face, leaving him wincing at the sting of aftermath. Is this what she really thought of him? Had he not came to her house to cheer her up? Was that not nice enough for her?

"It's my job to be stern. Compare what I've done to what you've done. It's not an insult just an observation ; stern gets you places." The words seem to fall out of his mouth, unable to catch them before damage was done. He let out a forced chuckle, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Wow." was all she could say. She rolled to her other side, away from him. Gripping the blanket in her fist tightly, she tuned him out.

"I didn't mean it that way." he said quietly. He wanted to say more, he just didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, Maggie."

He retreated back to the living room, closing the bedroom door behind him. He dug his nails into his palm, scolding himself. "Why the fuck would you say that?" he whispered to himself.

MORNING

"Yo!" Carmen yelled from the kitchen, attempting to wake Margaret up.

She grumbled, rubbing her eyes from the beams of light blinding her. Sunlight poured in through the slits in the curtains, creating lines of light on the bed. Looking around the unfamiliar room, Margaret began to grow nervous.

"Jesus christ." she said, quickly shuffling to the bathroom. She looked in the mirror, examining the smudged mascara under eyes. Her hair was a unbrushed mane of blonde curls, which was looking particularly messy today.

"Shit, shit, shit." she said, grabbing her dress from the ground. Throwing the dress over her shoulder, she walked out the room, brushing her finger through her hair as she went.

Carmen was in the kitchen, packing his bag for work she walked out. "You're gonna be late I take it?" he said, not looking up the counter.

"You can take it off my pay, I don't care." she spat, putting on her shoes quickly. He laughed, shaking his head. "You think this is funny?" she said, standing up with her bag.

"Hey, you're the one who decided to go get fucked up on a work night." he said, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

She shot him a glare, sneering as she walked past him. She didn't want to admit that he was right, she didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

She quickly walked down the hallway, wincing with each step she took. Her heels from last night had left blisters on the back of her ankles, "Stupid pieces of shit." she muttered under her breath as she pressed the '1' button in the elevator.

As she waited for the elevator to descend, she scrunched her eyes shut, lightly banging her head against the wall a few times in frustration. Feeling so pathetic for even coming to Carmen's apartment. Why didn't she go to Marcus' house? Hell, even Richie's house?

The elevator dinged, interrupting her thoughts. She walked out of the building, rushing down the few stairs that were at the entrance of the building.

"Did I fucking walk here?" she asked herself breathlessly. She looked around for any sign of her easily identifiable red car. She huffed, trying to find a taxi, but the street was pretty much empty.

"Need a ride?" Carmen said behind her. She balled her fists up at her side, not speaking or turning towards him. "You're gonna be even later to work." he got in his car, turning it on. He began to pull away slowly, maintaining eye contact with her hardened stare.

"Ok, fine. Wait!" she yelled, breaking her facade. She plopped herself into the passenger seat, buckling herself in.

"That's what I thought." Carmen said, pulling away from the curb. Margaret didn't bother making conversation, the comment from early that morning still eating at her.

"I said I was sorry." Carmen said, practically reading her mind through her facial expressions.

She just stared at the window, not acknowledging his apology. She knew it was childish, but that didn't stop her. He pulled up to the front of her apartment, harshly stepping on the brake.

She lurched forward a bit, the seat belt locking in place. Glaring, she unbuckled the seatbelt and got out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride." her words practically frigid with how unenthusiasticlly she spoke. She shut the door, a bit harder than she intended to, then walked away.

"Yup." Carmen said. He rolled the window back as he drove off the the restaurant.

-

"What the fuck happened to you?" Sydney asked as Margaret walked in. Her hood was up, hands shoved deep in her pockets as she sped walked through the kitchen.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Syd." She breathed, setting her belongings into her locker. Tying her apron quickly around her waist, she walked over to her station.

"I took care of your prep." Sydney whispered to her as Carmen walked by. He kept his eyes straight ahead, paying no attention to the 2 girls.

"Oh Sydney.." Margaret faked a pout, then pulled Sydney into a quick hug. "Thank you."

The rest of the day was horrible for Margaret. She was off her game, moving slower than she'd ever moved before. Her hangover was hitting her now, her actions very clearly showing that.

As she cut the bread for the sandwiches, she felt a tight grip on her arm. She looked over, surprised by the sudden touch. It was Carmen, pulling her aside from the kitchen.

"Sweeps! Continue cutting the bread. It'll just be a second!" he called out into the kitchen, then focused his gaze on Margaret. "What's going on?"

She huffed, pulling her arm away from him, "I'm fine." she replied flatly.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a breath to keep himself composed, "You're moving slow as fuck. Why?"

"Chef, I'm fine." she said, walking away from him. Carmen should've fired her right there and then for how she acted. It was unacceptable, but he was low on staff, so firing her would've been a stupid decision. Margaret returned back to her station, thanking Sweeps for taking over.

She was finally allowed her break, which relieved some of her anxiety. She sat at one of the tables in the front since the restaurant was practically dead at that time. Her fork picked at her food, moving it around the plate as she ate. Resting her head on her hand, she robotically ate her late lunch.

Carmen watched her from behind the kitchen ledge, observing her state. Clearly the hangover mixed with her feminine need to be mad over nothing was affecting her greatly. "No." he thought to himself, "She did have some right to be mad at him."

He walked up to her, his breath drawing tighter with each step. Her eyes flicked up to him, pausing her eating. Carmen tossed a folded piece of paper on the table then walked to the kitchen.

She watched him leave, then grabbed the paper. As she opened it, she saw the words scribbled on it, "i'm sorry mags."

She immediately looked at the kitchen to search for Carmen, only to find that he was already staring at her. Without words, his body language asked "Are we good?"

She nodded, then began to clean up her plate and fork. As she walked into the kitchen, Carmen gave her shoulder a tight squeeze, "Thatta girl." he said.

She let out a quiet laugh, then continued through the kitchen. Setting her plates in the dishwasher, she returned to her station to cut bread.

"Chef." Carmen looked over his shoulder, watching her carefully cut the bread.

"Yes chef?" she replied, not looking up from her station.

"Look at me." he said quietly. His voice was low, just loud enough for her to hear.

She glanced up, meeting his gaze. "What?"

"Can you make the grocery list for me?" he asked, hitting his pen against the counter. His gaze was fixed on her doe eyes, never faltering.

She nodded her head, carefully setting down the knife. "Yes chef." She left to retreive a notepad and pen, finding a counter to lean over and write on. She wrote down the obvious basics like beef, broth, ingredients for bread, vegetables, etc. Eventually finishing up, she got from her spot and began asking each of the cooks if they had any requests.

.

"We could get some plantains." Tina suggested. She hit the ladle over the side of the pot, knocking some sauce off before she set it in the sink.

Margaret sighed, "Nothing in the menu requires plantains, Tina." she dropped the notepad and pen to her side.

"It was worth a try." Tina shrugged, returning back to her work.

Margaret turned to walk away, but she stopped herself. "What would you even make with plantains that would fit the menu?"

.

"Buttercream." Marcus said, the mixing machine whirring behind him.

"What?" Margaret said loudly, moving closer to him.

The machine hummed wildly, almost sounding like it was going to explode. "I said.." He yelled, then rolled his eyes. He turned around, switching off the machine then turned back to Margaret. "Buttercream. I need buttercream."

"Yes chef." she said as she scribbled on her notepad, walking away.

.

"Um.." Sydney paused, looking at the floor as she racked her brain for ideas. "I'm drawing blanks." she finally said, looking back up at Margaret.

"Well," Margaret closed the notepad, "Just let me know by the end of the day."

She tucked it her back pocket, then walked back over to her station. There was a small loaf of bread sitting on the cutting board, the knife placed next to it. The pile of loaves had dwindled while she was making the list, leaving barely work left to be done.

She picked up the bread in her left hand, holding it in her palm. As she went to cut it with the knife, it went right through the bread, slicing a large gash across her palm.

Someone had already cut the bread, but left it on the board.

"Fuck!" she yelled out. Her heart was racing as she felt her heartbeat in her hand. She grabbed one of the spare towels she kept in her apron pocket, wrapping it around her hand tightly.

Richie looked up from the register, taken aback by her sudden outburst. She never yelled, so it was a rare occasion. "Someone finally got a mouth." he laughed.

"Richie, fuck off!" she yelled back, the adrenaline taking over her body. She breathed heavily, backing up from the bread station.

"Hey, it's ok baby." Tina said from behind her. She unwrapped Margaret's already bloody towel, and replaced it with a clean one. Her hand pulsated, s bleeding heavily. The cut was around the same width as her palm and deep. Of course she had been in high-stress situations before but this was a raw kind of rush.

Carmen came out of his office quick, unaware of what had happened. He walked up to Tina and Margaret, eyes looking down at the bloody towel. His eyes flicked up to her tense face which was scrunched into a panicked expression.

"C'mere." He grabbed her other wrist gently, and guided her to the industrial kitchen sink. He turned the water on, lukewarm water spitting out. Slowly moving her hand under the water, this earned a sharp hiss to escape Margaret's body. "Shh, I know." he said quietly, trying to calm her.

She buried her face into her right shoulder, looking away from her hand. She let out a pained whimper, which caused to Carmen to glance at her. "Relax your hand for me." he calmly ordered, "There we go, unclench it.”

Richie hurried into the kitchen, peeking over Carmen's shoulder, "Margy, what the fuck happened?" he practically yelled, unintentionally shouting into Carmen's ear.

"Richie, shut the fuck up and back the fuck up." he harshly spat over his shoulder.

"Guys!" Tina said, rubbing Margaret's back in circles.

"Sorry sweetheart." Richie replied, taking a step back. Tina walked past him, smacking him upside the head and gave him a "mom" look.

Margaret whined into her shoulder, tears brimming her eyes. Carmen picked up on it, beginning to gently rub her forearm. "Just breathe. You're okay, you're good." he said softly.

She turned to face her hand, watching the water wash away the spilling blood. She could tell the cut was deep by the way the water stung her hand. Glancing at Carmen, she noticed he was still focused on her hand. He was intent on taking care of her, his words soft and his touch gentle. He didn't know exactly what came over him in the moment, but seeing her hurt turned him into a completely different person.

"There we go." he turned the water off, lifting her hand up. He grabbed a new towel from his pocket, wrapping it around her hand. "Let's go to my office, I think there's a first aid kit in there." He could practically hear her heart beating out of his chest.

She nodded, unable to form words, following Carmen to his office. She kept a tight grip on the towel, pressing down on the wound like she had seen in the movies. He pushed the door open, motioning for Margaret to sit down in the chair.

While she sat holding her hand, he rummaged through the filing cabinets until he found the first aid kit. He opened it, looking through the contents, pulling out a thick bandage and some type of wrap.

He leaned against his desk, "Give me your hand." he said as he opened a bottle of sterile saline solution. She listened, carefully unwrapping her hand from the towel.

She winced as she pulled the towel off, holding it awkwardly in her other hand. He carefully took her hand, resting it on his thigh. He squeezed some of the saline solution onto her palm, which coaxed another whimper from her.

"I know, I know." he said, peering down at her. Her eyebrows were knit together tightly, lips formed in a pout as her hand stung from the solution. He set the bottle down, swapping it out for the bandage.

His hands were wrapped around her forearm to keep her steady as he applied the bandage. His brows were pinched together in concentration as he started to wrap her hand. Margaret wanted to thank him in that moment, but she couldn't form the words. She felt almost suffocate, his sudden gentleness hypnotizing her.

Finishing up, he set the kit away, "I'm going to go finish closing with the others, you just wait in here. We'll see how your hand is when I finish closing." he said, leaving Margaret to her own devices in his office.

Margaret spent the last 15 minutes of closing, sitting in his office. Her leg bounced up and down rapidly, as her thoughts consumed her. What if she needed stitches? Did it need to be sewn up? She couldn't afford a hospital bill right now.

"I can't leave you alone for one second, can I?" Carmen's voice interrupted her thoughts.

She laughed quietly, "I mean, I'm okay. It's fine now." she said, playing with her hands.

"It's not okay. I can't afford for my chefs to be making mistakes like this." he motioned to her hand. "Lemme see it." he crouched to the floor, almost eye level with her.

Margaret extended her hand, allowing Carmen to examine it. He sharply inhaled, looking at the bloodied mess under the bandage. "Do you feel lightheaded?" he worriedly asked, eyes scanning over her.

"No, I'm okay." she assured him. He nodded his head response, applying a new bandage and wrapping it up.

"All good?" he asked, pushing himself back into an upright position. Margaret looked up at him, lips twisted into a worried pout. Her teeth chomped down onto her lip, hard, as she nodded her head.

Carmen could see that this had really shook her, clearly not a usual occurrence in her previous cooking jobs. He watched as she stood up, wiping her clammy hand on her apron.

"Thank you." she said quietly. Her big eyes flicked up at him, then away towards the door. She walked past him and to the lockers.

Breathe in.

Flower. Paintbrush. Tabby cat. California. Diner.

Breathe out.

She opened her locker, slowly taking off her apron and hanging it on the hook. As she threw on her jacket, Carmen joined her, opening his own locker.

"Night." Margaret said, walking away.

"Maggie.." Carmen breathed. She subconsciously bit down on her lip, knowing she'd chew through it by the end of the night. A nervous habit that had stuck with her since she was young. "You want to catch dinner sometime this week? You know, as an apology for what I said last night. Well technically this morning." he corrected.

She smiled at the ground, "You don't have to do that Carmen."

"Well I feel like I should." he said quickly after she finished her sentence.

She nodded her head, "I would like that."

END

-

sooo did we like this chapter?? i also apologize for any spelling mistakes because i literally never proofread my stuff 😇

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto headcanons #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy the bear #carmy bear #carmy x reader #the bear one shot #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #the bear headcanon #the bear fandom #the bear

[jadeittic]

MUSE.

“Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me.”

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto + Artist!Fem!Reader

note : a small blurb for my favorite boy again cuz i cant get him out of my mind. lmk if u have any reqs! :)

In a bustling city, where creativity and gastronomy intertwined, there existed a love story that transcended the boundaries of personality. YN, an artist with a whirlwind of emotions, and Carmy, a stoic, introverted chef with an unyielding passion for food, found their lives intertwined in the most unexpected way.

YN’s vibrant art studio was a haven of color and inspiration. Her days were filled with laughter, conversations with her friends, and the rhythmic strokes of her brush. Her artwork, an extension of her expressive soul, captivated the hearts of art enthusiasts from near and far. She reveled in the joy of sharing her passion, breathing life into her canvases with every stroke of her paintbrush.

Carmy, on the other hand, found solace in the realm of flavors and ingredients. His restaurant, The Bear, became a sanctuary where he could let his culinary genius thrive. With unwavering determination, he crafted dishes that were unparalleled in taste and presentation. He poured his heart and soul into every recipe, channeling his stubbornness into creating gastronomic masterpieces.

Their paths crossed one evening at a charity event, where YN’s vibrant artwork adorned the walls, and Carmy’s delectable creations adorned the plates. Drawn to the energy of YN’s presence, Carmy found himself captivated by her contagious laughter and genuine enthusiasm. Despite his introverted nature, he couldn't resist the magnetic pull she had on him.

Intrigued by Carmy’s stoic demeanor and the unwavering confidence in his culinary skills, YN saw beyond his silence. She sensed the passion and dedication radiating from him, much like the flames that danced beneath his pots and pans. YN, with her boundless energy, brought colors to Carmy’s monochromatic world, and he found himself enchanted by her unfiltered comfort for life.

As their love story unfolded, they discovered a beautiful balance in their differences. YN’s enthusiasm coaxed Carmy out of his shell, encouraging him to share his culinary expertise with the world. Meanwhile, Carmy’s calmness and introspection grounded YN’s allowing her to channel her creative energy with focus and purpose.

Together, they embarked on a journey of culinary and artistic exploration. YN’s paintings adorned the walls of The Bear, creating an ambiance that resonated with patrons. In turn, Carmy’s mouthwatering creations became a muse for YN, inspiring her to infuse her art with the flavors and emotions that his dishes had.

Their love grew like a symphony, with each passing day revealing new harmonies and melodies. The pair celebrated each other's successes, finding solace and comfort in their shared devotion to their crafts. Their relationship became a tapestry of passion, understanding, and unwavering support, each embracing the other's uniqueness.

In a city where artistry and culinary genius thrived, YN and Carmy’s love story stood as an evidence to the power of connection beyond personality types. Their journey proved that love can blossom in the unlikeliest of places, uniting two souls whose passions complemented each other, painting a picture of a love story that transcended all boundaries.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fic #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto one shot #carmy berzatto imagines #the bear x reader #the bear imagines #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto angst #jadeittic

[mayfieldss]

Burn the house down with you - Carmen Berzatto

Summary: Getting Carmen to take a break is a hard task, especially when you don't know anything about the kitchen.

AN: please don't burn your houses down I beg

"What the hell is that smell?" It's Carmy's voice, home early from work, and it startles you when his arms find your waist. You're at the stove, pushing around an assortment of vegetables in a pan, and Carmen’s head rests on your shoulder, watching you work with a wrinkled nose.

"That smell is your dinner." turning to look over your shoulder, your lips meet his in a short kiss, that says, "Welcome home," and "I love you" all at once. But he's distracting you from the task at hand, and he knows it.

"Is that so?" his hand runs up your waist to your shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake before it continues its journey down your arm, and with gentle touches his hand comes to rest over yours as you grasp the wooden spoon. "What exactly are you trying to do here?" He doesn't mean it in a negative way, and his tone is gentle, unlike the excessive shouting he's used to at work.

"I am sautéing these vegetables."

"Babe," with his other hand, Carmen reaches round to turn down the heat of the stovetop, "you're burning ‘em." His hand is hard and calloused over your own, and the band aid over his pinkie finger leaves you frowning.

"Cut yourself at work again?" you ask as you move the pan off the heat. You shuffle out of Carmy's hold to the chopping board where the rest of your ingredients await.

"Yeah, fucking dull knives." He follows you, placing his hands on your shoulders as you begin chopping tomatoes. "Let me do it, baby."

You push him back gently and continue chopping away at the contents on the board, feeling his eyes on you as you do so. His gaze is warm, soft, and it's something you can always sense.

"I'm cooking dinner for you this time, not the other way around."

"Why?" Carmy comes up beside you, leaning against the kitchen counter as you work. Watching your hands, analysing every movement you make. He'd taught you how to prep vegetables properly, courtesy of you insisting upon being his sous chef when cooking at home, and he's proud of the way you work, even though you burn almost everything once it's in the pan or oven.

"Because you need a break," Putting down the knife you hold and wiping your hands on the cloth beside you, you turn to face him. "You work too hard Carm. You need to sit down and relax."

"I am relaxed."

"No, Carmy. You're not."

He lets out a long breath, eyes closing as he does, and when he feels your hands, running up and down his biceps, your arms, wrapping him in a tight hug, your lips pressed to his in short, delicate, kisses he can find some semblance of peace. When you go to kiss him again, your nose bumps his in an awkward kind of affection, and he laughs, a sound he only really hears on nights with you.

"Please, just sit down." your forehead is pressed to his, hands on his shoulders as you wait for him. It takes a moment, his eyes opening as he takes you in.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Carmy mimics the gentle furrow of your brows, hands finding home on your waist. "I just want to look at you." And that's exactly what he's doing, looking at you like the stars and the sun have become the singular person before him. Like you're a painting, he just can't get enough of and a song he loves to listen to.

Carmen Berzatto is in love, he thinks, though he doesn't know how to say it.

"You can relax and look at me at the same time, you know." The gentle smile you send is the best thing he's seen all day, your voice the one sound to calm him.

"I am relaxed," his hands running up and down your sides cause you to soften, gentle touches from hard hands. "you relax me."

All you do is chuckle, a soft sound that he can feel in the way your body shifts under his grasp. He's tired, and though there is deep-rooted stress from the struggles of work and the ongoing family drama that arises at least once every week, he finds his own calm somehow. His own version of it, when he's with you.

"Just let me help you." he's staring you down, intent on winning you over, and trying to memorise every detail of you. Every freckle, every crease in your skin. Every part of you that he wishes he could take to work every day, the pieces of you he's glad to come home to, and the entirety of you that he doesn't want to lose.

Somehow this look seems to work, and you cave, forehead pressed to his chest as you groan in agreement. When you raise your gaze to meet his once more, you've got a seriousness behind the irises he loves.

"But you listen here Carmen Berzatto, I am head chef tonight. You are only the assistant to my power."

Carmy can only chuckle as you move back toward your slightly blackened vegetables and the chicken you have prepped to follow suit in the pan. He can't help but admire the way you're doing things, small movements and actions he knows you've done to please and impress him, though you don't admit it. In a way, it's your approach to showing him how much you notice what he does too. You follow things you've seen him do, even though you have no idea what benefit said actions have on the food you're making, and in doing it you let him know you see him. And care about him.

"So, what do you want me to do chef?" He's humouring you, watching as you slide over a packet of fresh bread buns.

"Ideally I would have wanted you to sit down and relax, but your stubborn arse is gonna butter this bread now." You're not mad, though you would like to be. But Carmy has a way of getting under your skin that doesn't make you hate him. In fact, that itch of him crawling through your bloodstream makes you want him all that much more.

"Really? You're limiting me to bread?" he's not really objecting because he already has the butter knife in hand, ready to do what you say whenever you say it, but he'd like to think he has a chance at convincing you to let him do something more.

You don't give him that satisfaction. "Yes, I am limiting you to bread, because that is the least stress-inducing task I can think of giving you right now." You slide the chicken into the pan, the loud sizzle giving you a fright as the butter and oil spits back at you.

There it is again. The smallest and sweetest of laughs leaving Carmy's lips, all thanks to the company you provide. The safe haven that you've somehow become for him.

For the next few minutes, he butters the bread in silence, and you toss about the contents of the pan, with the hope that it might be bearable to eat. But there is something about the quiet that creates tension, and with tension the need to touch. A moment passes as you wash your hands in the sink, Carmy coming over to do the same, though his hands are clean. He's testing the waters, waiting, and wanting to be just that bit closer.

Three gentle kisses to your neck later, each one creeping closer to the sweet spot behind your ear, and you turn around, flicking the water from your wet hands into Carmen's face. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" he tries to play it cool, but there is a part of him that holds the concern, that even though he can hear the teasing in your tone, perhaps you're not interested in his not-so-subtle acts of affection.

There are a heavy few seconds—ones where you stand staring bewildered at the man before you, brows furrowed with the lightest of smiles pulling at your lips, before the tension is lifted, and the weight on Carmen's chest ceases to exist. There's something about your hands in his hair, smoothing it back, tugging at the strands near the nape of his neck. The depth of the kiss that takes his breath away, and the smell of your shampoo that he can take in with you this close to him. There's something about the feel of the back of your thighs in his hands, the awkward, messy bump of your knee against his as he lifts you onto the empty space of the counter. The way the chopping board is knocked to the floor with a loud thump you both ignore, because you're too caught up in each other to care.

It's your hands and his hands, scrambling to find purchase on each other, the lips that crash together, the kiss moving from gentle and sweet to intense and passionate in nothing but a second. Broken breaths and gasps that turn to laughs, Carmy's fingers tracing your shoulders, your face, your lower back. The heat that courses through the room, and the sudden realisation that it's not just the kiss that's hot.

You see it first, out of the corner of your eye, the orange light catching your attention. The black block that had once been your meal, and the smell of smoke that fills your senses now that you're focused on something other than the way your body moves with Carmen's. "Shit!" You push him back, jumping off the bench with a yelp as the flames reach toward you, and it seems to register to Carmy then just how serious the situation is. The pan is on fire, the food pitch black and the flames are beginning to lick at the walls.

"Fuck!" His voice is loud and matches the volume of your screams as he reaches for the stove, daring to turn off the element before leaping to the cupboard where he, luckily, keeps a fire blanket. He got it after many incidents like this on his part, with the sleepwalking and late-night cooking that went horribly wrong. Though he hasn't had an incident like that in a while, he's more than glad he kept the blanket around as he throws it over the fire. The fire alarm beeps loudly overhead and is more than late to the scene as you scramble for a chair to stand on so you can turn it off.

"Holy shit." Carmen moves your way once he's sure the flames have died, hands on your hips as he lifts you down from the chair, pulling you close. "That was fucking insane."

"It's burnt." you mutter, somewhat sad at the turn of events. You'd worked hard on the food after all, and while it might not have been the best meal, you'd hope it might have been semi-enjoyable.

"Yeah, no shit." Carmen presses a kiss to the top of your head, eyes still on the place where the flames had once been. "At least we know it won't give us salmonella. That shit's cooked through."

It makes you chuckle, though you don't find the situation funny at all. There is a large black mark on the wall, the place where the fire had bruised the wallpaper, and you weren't particularly happy about it. After a moment, Carmen speaks again, giving you a tight squeeze before his eyes fall to your figure tucked into his side.

"Do you wanna get takeout?"

Your eyes shift up to look at him, lips upturning in a tired smile. "Definitely."

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto smut #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #carmen berzatto x you #the bear hulu #the bear season 2 #carmen berzatto one shot #carmy berzatto imagines #the bear x reader #the bear imagines #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy the bear #the bear fx fanfiction #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto imagines #the bear #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto smut

[ciaonicole85]

Waiting on my AO3 invite. Here's a one shot Sydcarmy story. Canon compliant. Post season 2. Please excuse the grammar/spelling mistakes. I need season 3 to get here quickly!

Title: Won't You Be My Neighbor

It was her break and for the 89th time in the last three days Sydney reassessed the apartments within 15 minutes walking distance from The Bear. As CDC she no longer wanted to depend on the train should there be some kind of accident, strike, or weather event. There were three that she could afford on her own and many more options if she were willing to become a roommate. She wasn't. If inspiration for a recipe struck her at 2am she wanted to get up and cook if she wanted. She loved the freedom of walking around naked after a shower, picking out her clothes or getting a snack. Most of all she missed turning up her music and dancing like an inflatable tube man in private.

She had sent a message to each leasing office to schedule an appointment next Monday and two of the three had confirmed a 10a and 11a showing. It had been more than 48 hours since she messaged the third so she called. The leasing agent informed her that the specific unit she wanted was no longer available, but they had a gorgeous 2 bedroom for $3800 a month if she was interested. "Okay, now that's just two options" Sydney muttered after getting off the phone.

"Hey mija, what you looking at?" Tina asked sitting down to eat lunch.

"Just apartments. I finally have the funds to move" Sydney answered with a sigh.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to be getting out on your own?"

"Oh, yeah for sure. It's just I'm really picky"

"Well, it doesn't have to be forever. Just make sure to read the reviews. You don't want roaches or bed bugs".

"Oh, I can't stand bugs! My dad still has to kill them for me, but I better get a fly swatter and spray now that I'll be on my own soon."

Break was over and Sydney stood up to resume her duties. First she needed to talk to Natalie about the upcoming private party. A celebrity had reserved the entire restaurant next Thursday evening. The names of all staff members on duty that night had to be submitted ahead of time with signed NDAs. It was all happening so fast and The Bear's debt was likely to be paid less than a year after opening. First there had been a Grio article about her being a rising black chef. That led to Keith Lee, the TikTok restaurant reviewer, raving about his to-go order that included the T-Bone and the Michael cannoli. It went viral and suddenly, they were booked for the next three months with a waiting list. She was working harder than ever, getting paid pretty well, and she deserved a place of her own.

After talking to Natalie, she found Carmy working on her prep.

"Hey, thanks! I can take over that now if you want"

"Actually….it's done. I wanted to take you somewhere for like 30 minutes" he said finishing up and cleaning the station.

Sydney folded her arms, her eyebrows raised high.

"Okay, where are we going?"

"I know you've been looking for a place and I think know the perfect apartment for you. Just a 10 minute walk from here. The landlord gave me the key so I could show you today" Carmy said trying to sound casual, but a deep pink flush rose in his cheeks.

"Why is he being weird?" Sydney thought but simply said "Okay, that's dope."

The Chicago air was soft and warm, the clean sunlight making everything look new. Summer afternoons like this made you forgive the brutal winters here. Carmy directed Sydney when to turn left and right, but refused to tell her where exactly they were going. Soon they were standing in front of his building.

The reason for his weirdness was now perfectly clear to Sydney and she felt so flattered that she had to avoid looking at Carmy when she said "So, there's an open unit in your building?"

"Uh, yeah. The people who lived just above me moved and I, uh, thought you might want to see it".

The apartment was on the fourth floor. Carmy unlocked the door and let Sydney go in first. The walls were freshly painted in "Cloud White" and the oak hardwood floors creaked comfortably under their feet. The layout was the same as Carmy's apartment with plenty of windows to let in natural light and a shockingly large kitchen for a 1 bedroom place in Chicago. As Sydney inspected the appliances and bathroom, she decided that if the rent was going to eat up even half of her check it was worth it. She had always admired Carmy's spacious apartment and with her sense of style she could make hers, a cozy bohemian oasis filled with plants, wall art, and actual furniture (eventually).

Carmy had let her roam around in silence for a few minutes, muttering and emitting tiny sounds of joy to herself. When she met him in the living room again, he said trying not to grin too widely, "If you like it, it's already yours."

"How? I know places like this are snatched up fast" Sydney said her eyes finally able to meet his again.

"The landlords, they're a couple, and their 20th wedding anniversary is coming up. They want reservations at The Bear." Carmy explained, desperately hoping to sound nonchalant about it.

"Oh, that's nice work, Carmy."

Then Sydney squealed and cried "This is just what I wanted!!" and she flung her arms around his shoulders in a wild hug. Carmy commanded his body not to shudder as he hugged her back. She was just wearing a t-shirt and without her usual layers of clothing he felt her delicate frame, her slim shoulder blades imprinting on his fingers.

In a moment Sydney pulled back shly and let her arms fall to her sides, her face burning. She made a mental note: Hugging Carmy. Not a safe activity for those who want to cook along side him using sharp objects or sleep peacefully at night dreaming innocent thoughts.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" Sydney said taking another step back and making another turn around the room.

Carmy nodded and concentrated on not melting into the floorboards.

"You're okay with this? We already spend 60+ hours together at the restaurant every week and now I'd be in your building! And literally living on top of you."

"Yeah, well, I want you to. You deserve everything you want, Syd."

"Then I'll take it! Just a warning though. If you hear someone belting out Kpop and an occasional thud, that's just my weekly one woman concert, which will be over no later than 10pm. I'm not being murdered."

Carm was no longer unable to contain the width of his smile. This girl is so cute, his body physically ached. How would he get through service tonight?

With a happy shake of his head, he replied, "Thank you, for the heads up!"

With that Sydney marched towards the door and exclaimed "Take me to your landlord!"

Carmy floated behind her.

Cue: Maxwell's "Whenever, Wherever, Whatever"

#sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #carmen berzatto #syd adamu #the bear #fanfic #fan fiction #one shot

[satorustyles]

you can't fall asleep (a kento nanami one shot)

a/n: a nanami version of this one shot! thank you to everyone who liked my first post, there's more to come! <3 -bear

pairing: nanami x fem!reader

warnings: implied smut at the end, but mostly just pure fluff

word count: 1,750

gojo version here!

sukuna version here!

Despite Kento’s busy schedule, he was always the last to fall asleep. He would stay up longer finishing paperwork or answering emails, and there would always be a bottle of beer next to him to help him ease his stress. Not only was he a full-time worker, but he was just recently promoted to a higher position. Which meant higher pay. Longer nights.

Ever since he got the promotion he’s been staying up longer than his usual bedtime, signing papers all while checking his laptop for emails. After dinner, you were almost invisible to him, with his attention solely on his remaining work and you had to wait for your time until he was finished–which was around eleven late in the evening.

“You should go ahead, baby.” He had told you, giving you an apologetic kiss on the lips. He still wore the same suit that he had on, minus the coat and the tie. He couldn’t fall asleep knowing he had unread emails and unchecked paperwork.

And you tried to sleep without him, you really did. But the bed was colder and quieter without him, without his strong arms wrapped around your smaller body and having his warm breath tickling your neck, plus the occasional, sleepy kisses you would get when you were close to falling asleep.

You missed cuddling with Kento before bedtime. You missed waking up to his kisses and groggily telling you how much he loves you and would promise to spend the rest of the evening with you, however you wanted.

But the promotion took him away from you.

You sighed frustratedly as you left your bed, padding towards the kitchen where he was still situated on the island counter, faced with piles of paperwork and a bottle of beer. The light from his laptop screen illuminated his tired features, dark circles underneath his eyes, and his blonde hair in a messy state.

“Nami,” You whined, calling him by the nickname you gave him that he immediately loved to hear. His head was quick to snap in your direction. “S’too much work. Come to bed with me.”

He smiled tiredly at you, and your heart ached at the sight of him. You hated how hard he worked every day, barely getting enough rest that he deserved. Whenever you asked him to take a break, he would shake his head and tell you that he was doing this for the both of you. So he could provide for your own needs as well.

And you hated that you couldn’t help him yet. You were still in school, and the least you could do was wake up before him and prepare his breakfast and make him dinner when the evening comes. But you knew that wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He apologized as he stretched his arm out for you, asking you to come to him. “I just have to finish this, okay? I’m almost done.”

You walked towards him and he looked up at your sleepy face, smiling at how adorable you looked. “Gimme a kiss,” He whispered.

You shook your head. “Not until you get in bed with me, Nami. You can just finish that tomorrow.”

He sighed as he stared back at the papers in front of him, the light coming from his laptop screen already straining his eyes. You were right. This was already too much.

“C’mere.” He told you as he pulled you towards his lap and you obliged. You straddled his legs, facing him, while he did his best to clean up his mess and shut off his pc while ensuring you didn’t fall from his lap. “Thank you for reminding me, angel. If you didn’t come out for me I would have stayed for another hour.”

“You’re overworking yourself. This is too much work, even for someone who was just given a promotion. You’re like a working intern who was given all the heavy load.” You were angry. Not at your boyfriend, but at the fact that his company promoted him to a better position but the work given was somehow a downgrade. It was paperwork and meetings all over again. “I mean, I’m not one to judge, and I certainly have no clue what your responsibilities are, but I know better that you shouldn’t be working way past your eight-hour shift. That’s so unfair.”

Kento sighed and you looked up, worried that your words had upset him. But, you were surprised to see him smiling fondly at you.

“I agree. I really was planning on talking to the supervisors about this. Maybe ask if I could get an assistant so that I could have someone divide the workload.” He replied just as his hands held your waist and pulled you closer to him, keeping you from slipping down his khaki pants.

“I miss falling asleep next to you.” You sighed as you stared up at his tired eyes.

“I know, baby.” He cooed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I know you couldn’t fall asleep without someone next to you. I’m sorry. But you’re right, this is unfair.”

His hand rested against your back and pushed you down to his chest, keeping you there as his other hand grabbed his phone from the counter and began dialing someone.

“Who are you calling?” You questioned, struggling to move your head so you could look up at him since his hand was still on your back, his grip strong as he kept you from moving so much.

“Shh, this will be quick love.” He muttered before kissing your forehead quickly. And so you remained silent. You loved how small you felt in Kento’s hold, his strong arms wrapped around you, feeling the way his chest would rise and fall with every breath he took, inhaling the faint smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and how his hand would slowly start rubbing circles behind your back…

You were slowly dozing off.

“Mr. Yamato, good evening,” Kento spoke, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and you could feel the way it vibrated against your head. “Yes, I am aware of the time. I just wanted to call and let you know that I’ll be taking the day off tomorrow.”

Your ears perked up. He’s asking for a day-off? So unlike him.

“With that, I would also like to discuss further a possible assistant you could give me. I know you trust me enough with the position you have bestowed upon me, but it has been taking too much of my free time and my wife doesn’t like how I still work even when I’m at home.”

Your heart jumped. My wife?? His wife? He called you his wife??

You squirmed underneath his hold but his grip was tighter around you, as if silently asking you to stay put.

“Ah yes, of course. We’ll discuss this further the day after tomorrow. Thank you so much, Mr. Yamato. Have a good night.” He then hung up and threw his phone on the counter.

“Now, where were we?” He sighed in relief, his eyes down at you with a cheeky smile and all you could do was stare at him in disbelief.

“You asked for a day off?”

“Why, yes of course.” He replied nonchalantly, his hands on your sides keeping you steady as you moved to sit up and face him properly. “I told you, you were right. My work was getting too much. And the day off would be a quick recovery for me to get more sleep and spend the rest of the day with you.”

You couldn’t even bother to hide the smile on your face as you excitedly leaned in to kiss your boyfriend square on the lips, catching him off-guard but eventually relaxing with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah? Sounds good, right? A day off with my baby girl.” Kento mumbled against your lips, sighing contentedly. “We’ll sleep in, just order takeout for lunch, and you’ll give me cuddles in the afternoon, and maybe have some more fun…”

His kisses began going downwards as his words trailed off, peppering your throat and collarbone with wet kisses and you sighed at the feel of his tongue tickling your skin. Beneath you, you could feel something hard subtly poking your core. 

You knew Kento was getting needy. It’s been a week since you had sex, and there was his promotion to thank for it. You tried your best to avert his attention, even just for an hour, because you knew you could at least help him with his stress just a little. But he was always adamant about finishing his work.

“I’m so sorry I never got to spend more time with you, y/n.” He sighed, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. “I let this promotion get the best of me. I never even bothered considering that you would need me, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and rubbed his back soothingly. “Nothing to be sorry for, Nami. You were just doing your best. I’m just glad you could at least have a day off to yourself and finally talk with your boss about getting an assistant. I’ve been telling you that since Monday,” You told him and he sighed on your shoulder once again, his arms tightening their hold around your waist and pulling you closer to him, as if you would suddenly disappear from him if he loosened his grip.

He suddenly lifted his head, looking you straight in the eyes. Your heart hammered against his chest at the sudden action and the way his brown eyes stared back at you intensely.

“This time, I’ll be making it up to you.” He growled and you gasped at the sudden change of his demeanor. Before you could reply, his lips were on yours once again, his kisses suddenly becoming needier and hungrier as he gripped your thighs and pulled you up with him, taking you to your shared bedroom.

“Kento…” You sighed against his lips, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep yourself from falling from his hold.

“Shhh, let me take care of you this time, angel.” He muttered when you both finally reached your bedroom. He dropped you on the bed with a soft thud and he was immediately on top of you, capturing your wrists and trapping them above your head. 

“Let Nami make it up to you for those days when he's been busy.” He then gripped your lounge shorts and pulled them downwards, and you knew that you weren’t getting any sleep tonight at all.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #jjk #jjk 2 #nanami fluff #nanami one shot #kento x reader #kento x you #kento x y/n #nanami kento one shot #bear writes